The day you visited Uganda Terrence
Howard,
You came to see the lovely monkeys
and the huge flora and fauna in
Kibaale Forest Park,
green butterflies flew through my
bulging African veins knowing the
Hollywood star was on the Pearl of
Africa,
give me some cookie love you
beautiful brown black son of yonder,
I need some cookie love because
the truth comes like a panga,
to soothe the cracks in my soul,
for there is a new brand of vampires
that are eating out the blood of my
Nation,
the empire is crashing.
Terrence,
I honestly can’t fathom where the world
of African Leadership is headed,
while you probably brushed your teeth
in the morning,
to prepare to go into the wild Uganda
Forest to fly with the lovely monkeys,
flying from trunk to trunk,
throwing and catching bananas,
smiling
and laughing with the monkeys,
blissful, the heart is red,
I listened to the stuccatto outside my
rental as the old woman with a shrill
voice cried,
“Bamusse, chairman bamukubye
enyondo!”
He wakes up,
because like the real James Bond,
there is no time to die baby,
so out of the slums and into dem
sneakers baby.
SHIKAMOO Mr. Chairman,
a lovely morning to you sir.
—boil me a hot pot of water for
bathing when l return from jogging—
he told his wife
Slowly running out of the slums of
Kamwokya,
I feel like Lebron James in these
sneakers,
leaving behind the ever-heavily
marijuana-scented little city,
I cross over into Kololo,
upper Kololo is so damn sexy,
hmmm,
the differences between the structures
in the slums of Kamwokya and those
in its nearest town Kololo totally
blow me away,
the abject poverty in the slums is
terrifying yet Kololo shines with
streets of gold,
the houses in upper Kololo are shiny,
yellow and magnificent,
you wonder how the looney marijuana
scented town with its wood houses has
stayed near this big place with glass
houses and palm trees without crumbling
to dust,
thank you ancestors of Kamwokya for
pouring incense on my head and
allowing me to be a leader of this little
city for so long a time.
I’m now swerving unto Yusuf Lule Road,
Gosh, l feel really good,
I have such Godly plans for this town,
I’m so grateful to Jah for getting me out
of bed and onto the road jogging.
My son McKenzie,
I know you were born with HIV/AIDS
and you also happen to come from one
of the places that breeds
‘useless young people,’
but look son,
my assailants have followed me on my
jogging routine,
the losers could not even kill me in my
own home town of Kamwokya,
they did it at Garden City son,
so guess what?
I may die by the hammer today,
I may die by the hand of hate today,
but l was killed at Garden City son…
and what does that say about life son?
It says never pick up a hammer as a form
of action
It says never pick up hate as a form of
action
It says things which start in blood end
in blood
It says l was killed at Garden City
because this is a new Kamwokya,
a new Uganda, a new Africa,
a new youth, a new Justice,
a new leadership, and here we grow son,
that’s the symbolism of my murder,
growth,
even when poor thugs hammer our
formless body to death,
the soul thrives son,
the soul must survive,
so you keep going son,
so you drop that gun son,
learn to fight only with peace and love son.
I’m scared yes,
but if you think l’m going to run away from
my home because of your silly gimmicks of
looting, thuggin and killing,
If you think my soldier soul is gone
because you have killed me with hammer,
oswadde,
oswadde nyo,
nze ndi mazzi mawanvu.
You see brother Terence Howard,
I’m just a scared Ugandan tenant,
besides the hungry-thirsty mosquitoes
from the mwala next to my rental,
I got to hear of the chairman’s death just
as l shifted on my side in bed in the chaos
of the early morning.
On 16th July 2022,
Saturday 6:12 am,
a new day,
SHIKAMOO Mr. Chairman,
a new revolution started at the
stroke of the hammer,
the city thieves splashed your
blue red yellow blood all over
Central Park, Garden City, Jinja Road,
James Kakooza was your name,
a relentless servant of the Kamwokya
community,
a lion among the youths of Kamwokya,
If we are talking about arms,
Kamwokya has lost its right hand.
My name is McKenzie,
a kid living HIV,
I have grown up in Kamwokya and you
have nurtured me into the youth l’m today.
I’m a street hustler,
my name is Nana,
you gave me food during the hard times
of COVID-19.
My name is Allan,
I’m this bad man from Kamwokya,
a rasta and an entrepreneur,
I originate from Kabaale,
you signed the papers that allowed me
to run business in Kamwokya,
you made my stay in Kamwokya so
easy,
now that you are gone,
I feel like l don’t belong here anymore.
Your head bashing against the blunt
hammer of death,
SHIKAMOO Mr. Chairman,
the moon is yellow and the sky is softly
dripping with blue buttons,
every kid, every youth, every middle-aged
man, every old person,
they all line up to see your sweet face
in death.
You left early in the morning for a jog and
at 4 pm of the same day,
we received you in a coffin,
the truth comes like a panga,
I looked down into the coffin expecting to
see a distorted face full of hammer wounds,
but you should have seen yourself in that
coffin comrade,
they washed your face and oiled it with
shea butter from the Tanzanian oceanic
tropics,
black suit, tuxedo and all,
I think you looked pretty brave even when
they confined your Jaguar running legs to
a bus that does not move,
your coffin,
sleep with the angels.
African leaders die like chickens,
from Patrice Lumumba,
all the way to the Islamic-state leader,
Muammar Muhammad Abu-Minyar-al Gaddafi.
You may have died like a chicken,
Justice may never lick those cool buttocks
in your grave in Gomba,
but as l write this,
my shoes are shined,
my bed is shined,
my vinyl records are dust-free,
and candlelight is burning,
I’m on my knees fighting battles
with prayer like the famous
Mother Teresa,
so while they wash away your
red blue yellow blood of courage from the
streets of hate, stupid violence and
dirty politics,
my nerves are failing brother
Terrence Howard,
the war on the conscience of the African
leaders is failing,
and my cry to the ancestors seems to
be a cry in a forest full of thick dense
trees.