Of a brave little girl

My daughter and I are huge fans of Disney movies, the classics and the new (Frozen anybody?!). We have a ritual; I bring home a set of DVD’s, hide the familiar looking ones (she’s obsessed with Simba from lion king, so any movie that has a lion will be watched ad infinitum. I am still recovering from Penguins of Madagascar). So I pick one that she will enjoy and maybe relate to, pick any lessons where we can. The flavour of this month has been Aladdin. We swooned over Jasmine, were mesmerized by the cave of wonders and terrified when Jafar turned into the biggest python we ever saw and promptly ran out of the sitting room. So much so, she now calls it the snake movie.

Evil villain++

In spite of all the dramatics involved (running and hiding during parts with Jafar) she has insisted on watching the movie every night. This behaviour lasted till a few days back. This particular night, we settled in front of the TV to watch our movie as per usual, when it got close to the part where Jafar turns into a snake, she got up and went to the bedroom and returned with her maleficent stick (The staff from Maleficent, she got a makeshift one) so anyways, she stands in the doorway, waits for Jafar to turn and runs towards the TV brandishing her stick. I literally flew to grab her before the stick hit the screen and held her. And there she was fighting to hit the snake in TV with all her might. It was a highly entertaining sight. Luckily, Jafar was turned into a genie and locked away in a lamp soon enough.

I did not think any of it until yesterday when I told a friend this story and when we were done laughing deliriously, he went,”I suppose that took a lot of courage.” And it hit me then what a brave little girl I am raising. She watched Jafar turned several times and ran and hid. Then she decided this one time that she was done running, she was going to do something about it. So she armed herself and prepared to kill the “snake”.  I can’t believe that I am now profoundly inspired by my 3 year old. We face snakes every day, in several aspects of our lives, and we keep running and hiding. It’s about time, we picked up those sticks, looked fear squarely in the eye and killed it.

Bisous.

On naysayers and women who are winning ...

Ola dolls,

This was meant to be a situation update. Alas, that will come when I work up the energy to write properly. Writing is such hard work, who knew?!

Anyways, I was featured in African Woman (Yey!). Read the article here. That brought a lot of positives, I've seen a surge in orders and am sure it's because of that. What I did not anticipate was the negatives. I was shocked and a little disappointed to find out that a group of people think that the store (my dream, my baby, my vision) is a smoke screen. Apparently, I am a doing a lot of hard work laying on my back and that's what's paying for my bills and "lifestyle". What lifestyle I wonder! It's just a mark of how small minded and deeply patriarchal this society is. Because a woman at my age cannot possibly have achieved the things I have (such tiny minuscule achievements at that). What hurts me most is that these are people who have watched me literally pull myself out from the bottom. These are people who I met as a lowly intern and told that I was going to be a CIO. It simply amazes me that it's unfathomable to them that I have spent the past years in their presence evidently working my bottom off and this is what they think of me now.  Ashawo! Abeg! Find another insult.

Oh and no shots fired at my sisters dealing in the flesh trade. I see and respect your hustle. Someone has got to do it. I am quite sure I am not above it. I have a child, so help me God, I'd do anything within my power to fend for her, whoring inclusive. But no, that's not my current line of trade. Sorry to disappoint you all.

Tell em Joseline!

Early this month, I had the pleasure of meeting and spending time with a phenomenal woman. She owns and runs a million dollar company operating in more than 5 countries. She was born and bred in Uganda like me. I was (and still am) in awe of her. How she turned a 2 person operation into this giant of a beast is nothing short of awesome. As we parted ways, my request to her was this; write. Write it all down. For us, the women who are trying to get to where you are.

I spend a lot of my time speaking to and encouraging female entrepreneurs thanks to ZimbaWomen (more on that in the situation update) and the most common attitude towards business or life for that matter is FEAR. Women are afraid. Not cautious (which is a good thing in business). Just plain old fear. We fear to invest our savings. We fear to commit our time. We fear to share our ideas. We fear to formalize. We fear to ask for help. Drat, we fear money!  We are paralyzed by this fear. Thanks to the mentorship program courtesy of Cherie Blair that I am part of, I have been able to interact with quite a lot of women who are at the peak of their entrepreneurial careers and the one thing that all these women have in common is the lack of fear. She wants a contract to supply inventory, she hunts it down, fearlessly. She wants finance, she marches into a bank and asks for millions of dollars. They have realized that doors will not open for them, they have wield an axe and break the door down. Women who win are not afraid!

Here's to all the women I know (myself included) conquering their fear;

Bisous.
S.

Progress Report Numero...: 2 Months 19 Days

Ola Dolls,

You have not been abandoned. I am simply busy. Building a startup is hard. But so is building anything worthwhile. The highs are incredible, the lows even worse. It's like raising a child (and believe me, I know all about this)

So a quick update before I run off to a meet with a UX designer;

- The team has grown from just me to 2. I was overwhelmed and the business was starting to suffer. I have been lucky to find someone who believes in this even more than me maybe. Very very valuable addition to this TBS journey.

-We're overhauling the site design to something super cool and super professional. We're are overwhelmed by the reception from early adopters and we have stopped thinking local. We recently fulfilled an order from Rwanda so word is spreading faster than we had anticipated. We are playing catch up.

-I am now part of 2 prestigious mentor-ship programs; Mara & Cherie Blair. Building that social capital.

-I have marketing help from 2 reknown marketeers. I hope am doing them proud every day. Building a brand is hard work but it has to be done. We want TBS to resonate within this region and it will. Bold, Aggressive and Bullish is our strategy. Watch this space.

-The e-commerce scene is red hot in kampala right now. OLX, Jumia, Kaymu, Cheki and Hellofoods. Can't call it cause it's early days but change is upon us.

-In the midst of this hullabaloo, managed to attend a Unix workshop (My IT skills are my backup plan, can't let them rot) and I am working on another venture.

-I do not sleep. I am cranky. My social life is suffering. I have a wonderful support system. The most has been from a totally unexpected person. Lesson....never ever burn bridges. Ever!!

-I relate this journey to when I just had my baby. The first months were the most difficult, being in and out of hospital. Adjusting to nurturing this other being that is solely dependent on me. TBS is my new baby.

xoxo

I AM A WOMAN'S WOMAN!

I am a woman's woman!I am not a feminist. They are different, I do not demand equality and fair opportunity. I demand more! A woman nurtures life. A woman feeds a nation. When a woman is empowered, her family is empowered. Her entire social circle is empowered. Heck, I believe God is woman. I am proud that all of my initiatives right now involve and are about women. I will happily spend the rest of my life lifting myself and my sisters up. 

There has been a lot of furor all over the place about two women; Desire and Leah. One has been slut shamed and turned into a meme, the other( the equivalent of slut shaming but based on physical appearance. See,there's even no word in the English dictionary to describe what was done). The treatment has been brutal, I can not imagine how they are surviving. I'd need therapy. The professional kind. Scratch that, I'd need to lay in Oprah's bosom for awhile to heal! What has hurt me the most is that the loudest voice in all this noise has been from women. We have abused, slandered and beaten down our sisters.  Why? We women need to stick together in the face of adversity. If we cannot be for each other, who will be. We already have so much working against us. We live in a patriarchal society where we need to break down barriers every single day. Everything we get, we have to work harder than normal for. There is no need to make this work harder for each other.

Anyhow, both released statements soon after the hullabaloo. Leah laughed in the face of this adversity (standing ovation for you, my sister) but on the other hand, Desire has apologized. WHY? My dear Desire, you did nothing wrong! It is your body, your prerogative on whatever you do with it as long as it within the bounds of the law. Your only mistake was to trust a fool but who hasn't. You should not be prosecuted on such baseless terms. That summon to police, hire a good lawyer and tear it up. The person who should suffer is everyone who has distributed those images. You need to take back your power and along with it that of many women,should we be victimized for a crime that is clearly not ours.

 What Father Lokodo is saying in essence is that if I were raped, I would be summoned to police as opposed to my rapist. Lokodo, desire's reputation has been raped repeatedly, by several publications in this country! They and that man who started this storm are the ones who should be summoned. SHAME ON YOU FATHER,for participating in slut shaming. You of all people should know better.

Desire dear(and all my women), I leave you with this;

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou, 1928 - 2014

#UgBloggers7Days Blog Post Numero Six: Ani andooga?!

I don't even know how to begin this quasi post/lamentation/rant. Do you know how you have those really horrible nights, straight from the hottest part of the hideous belly of hell? That make you want to go native ergo the post title. If I could, this entire post would be in Luganda. Alas, I struggle to speak it so writing it is a myth. I just had my second horrible night from hell of the year! Why is the devil working overnight on my account?! Why Lord?! Why this year?! The year that I've clocked in more Sundays than the past five years combined?! Who do I need to appease to correct things? Must I find a one mutula ku ngo (he who seats on a lion)? What? Cause clearly am doing something very wrong?

Current feels.

So here's what happened just a few hours ago. The girls and I have been planning to check out a place called Blue Ice for awhile and we chose this auspicious night to go. Everyone was in high spirits,excited, the works. This was going to be a good good night. We drive to Blue Ice at about 11.30pm. We get there and the place is dead. I could count the people there off one hand. We didn't even get out of our cars. Spirits were dampened but we were relentless. We drove all this way for a good time and a good time was to be had. The closest place next to Blue Ice was Kuddy's. It's new so we figured it'd be a good idea to go check it out. We get there and are happily welcomed by the proprietor. There's a good crowd so we decide to stay. We get a table and order drinks. We chat for an hour and decide to call it a night. We go to our separate cars to leave.

I get to my car and lo and behold, the door at the driver's side is open. I am taken aback cause am pretty sure this damn door was locked when I left. I try to insert the key in the lock (side note:the next car am buying will be those ones with an auto lock thingy as a result of this! You know the ones with a start button. Am done with car keys). The key refuses to get into the lock. I take a closer look and see that it's been tampered with! My heart drops out of my chest to my feet. I think of the stock worth over a million in the car. I get into the car,turn on the light and start to take stock of the damage. The bags I left on back seat. Gone! I run to open the boot, everything's there. Thank Jesus. I ask the friend I was with what I should do, she says we need to inform the owner. So I head back in and politely ask to have a word with the proprietor. She obliges and steps away from her company. I tell her that my car has been vandalized at her premises and my property taken in full view of her guard who was claiming that he'd seen nothing. Hard to believe seeing as I was parked right in front of two (not one, TWO) bright lights. 

Anyhow, she calls a couple of her people and we go back to the car to assess the damage. One of them (small guy) apologizes, says they'll deal with their employee and take care of the damage. I tell them the contents of the bags that were taken and explain that those cannot be recouped, not immediately anyhow but what I really needed sorted ASAP was my lock. I explained that my car is a tool of trade. I cannot possibly go around with a damaged lock. Small guy seems understanding and takes my number, sets an appointment for midday the next day for me to return and sort this out. 

I get into my car to drive away, then comes big guy. He asks me to reverse back into the parking. I do, and ask him what the hell he wants. He asks me to wait as he's called the police and would like for me to wait for them as well. I look at my watch and it's coming to 2 am. My friend whispers to me that this fat dude probably doesn't believe us. Hoooooooooo!!!! All calm and sensibility vacates my brain. I get out of the car, now screaming on top of my lungs about how my car is my business and I could not possibly have driven a car with a damaged lock to their premises just so I can later pretend that it was vandalized there. How much is a lock anyway? I could have lied and said there was a laptop taken or 50 million!! My bags had been taken (containing sentimental items by the way, shoes I'll probably never find again, a sweet sweet outfit for my child) and I didn't want those replaced. I just needed my f**king lock to be fixed! That is all. Plus now it had become a matter of principle. They had a guard. I was parked in their parking lot. I saw no sign anywhere saying parking was at my own risk. My dudu, my baby had been injured and this fat man was standing there thinking I'd lie about that! I wanted to spill blood!

Aaaaarrgggh

So before this small altercation could turn into full blown murder, I jumped back into my car and drove off but not before shouting that they'd best call me tomorrow or wake up to a proper place bashing PROMOTED post on facebook! (Sadly, Idle threats are my cup of tea). I drive to Kiwatule to drop my friend home so I can be on my way home. I play my Tracy Chapman CD cause my soul needed soothing and I needed my blood pressure to return to normal. 

Just as I thought the night could not possibly get any worse. I drive into a police road block. They were holding breathalyzer tests. I parked behind a Noah as the policeman walked up to  my car. He asks me to get out of the car and I oblige. I line up for the test. I am confident cause my last drink had been taken many hours before and all that shouting and venting surely should have worked the alcohol out of my system. Alas no! Immediately after blowing, I see 0%. The policeman presses some button and shows me a blood alcohol level of 0.06. (what's the illegal limit by the way?) Anyhow, now my mind's racing;can I bribe and get away with it? How much would they want as a bribe? F**ck,I remembered I had just 5,000/= left in my wallet! Who can I call to bail me out? My father is going to kill me!! My father is going to kill me! Oh my God, I am going to be in the papers! Oh my God, am going to jail!! I had a full on panic attack in that moment. So the policeman takes the details of the lady who was driving the Noah and starts talking about how he's going to have her car towed to the police station. I am livid. This is really happening! Jail!!

The Noah lady breaks down and starts crying.I see an acquaintance waved down by the police but he doesn't get out of his car, he just slips the policeman something and he's let go. No test. My brain takes that as its cue to start working. In that moment, I decide that I need to do something and do that something quickly. I assess the situation; About 6 police officers. 5000/= can't cover them. All of them on foot. All of them currently engaged with other drivers.No police motorbike. My car strategically parked next to the shortcut to my home. My details not submitted yet. Perfect! The police lady starts walking the Noah lady to her car. I walk beside them as if to support her, get to her car and quickly dash to mine, start it and hightail out of there like a bat out of hell. I was doing 80 K.P.H on a horrible murrum road and hit 100 when I hit the tarmac. My baby flew like she knew mama was in trouble! 

Now here I am in bed, blogging, wondering if am a fugitive, if the loss of my super cool, super pricey phone earlier this year and this incident are related and asking; Why me? Why me Lord?!

#UgBloggers7Days Blog Post Numero Cinq: Dear Miss Rhimes.

Dear Miss Rhimes,

Sher here, avid (more like slightly obsessed) watcher of your shows ; Scandal and How To Get Away With Murder (Chile, that title is a mouthful! Why not something super short and sexy like Murder Inc?! No? Moving on then). I just finished watching the 3rd episode of that last one and now that my blood pressure has returned to normal, I have questions! Ohh so many! But you're a busy woman, producing 3 primetime shows is no mean feat so  I'mma let you finish but I have 3 questions that I gotta ask. (See what I did there?) Then I can live.


Question one: The HAIR. Olivia Pope and Michaela Pratt hair (Annalise is wearing a wig. Nobody got time for that). How do they get that hair? It is not fair for you to send  perfectly laid hair our way without telling us how it got that way. Yet you are fully aware that the black woman's number one struggle is hair! Miss Rhimes,Where is the Olivia Pope hair blog? We need tutorials. We need product reviews. We need Olivia Pope and Michaela Pratt hair!! Perfectly layed like goddess hair.

I need this magic spell! I have suspicions that the secret ingredient is newborn tears. That hair is coiffed!! Damn!!

Question two:Side Piece Activity! Why Miss Rhimes?! Why this bad behaviour?! Miss Pope is a side chick and Ms.Analisse has nookie on the side. Why? We black women are not about that life, are we? That can't be the co-curricular activity that the ONLY black female leads in a primetime show can do. How about psycho serial killer? I see Annalise pulling that off superbly. She's the pro at getting away with murder. Something for you to think about.

Annalise,Ms.Pope,Enough!

Question three: The Oreo Situation. Miss Rhimes,I love that you are bringing diversity to our screens daily. Love it. Absolutely. But (very big but) there's such a thing as diversity overkill *side eye at Glee*

Olivia's first love interest was white. We said OK, lovely, how cute, very fresh. Then you threw in a black dude who didn't last 2 seconds (Poor Edison. Didn't have chance with his big Ole ring. Olivia's a fool.) Then came another white dude. Ahh more diversity. We're cool. It's alright. Then came Annalise and you gave her a white husband?! Why Shonda?! Why?! Is this a theme? Am I missing something here? 

Hmmmnn

And then you went and made Michaela's fiance a down-low dude! Why Miss Rhimes?Why don't you let these women prosper in the love Olympics struggle? We can't win in real life and you're taking it away on TV too. No. We can't have this. Look into your heart and have a storyline where a black woman is happily married. She may kill people for fun in her spare time, have a gambling addiction, be a pimp. But for God's sake let her win at love!  

Miss Rhimes

Bisous.

#UgBloggers7Days Blog Post Numero Quatre: On Sex and the City...

I met (let's call him Jake)a couple of months back and  we'd been doing the should we, shouldn't we dance for awhile. You know, you like a guy but it's still very murky waters in terms of where this "thing" is so your hot for him and you'd let him do anything and everything except it. "It" is for people who you're dating. Exclusively.

So I go out with Jake, New Years night. See, so undefined! I don't even know whether it's a date or not. He just says, "hey come lets hang" and there I go. Short skirt, red lipstick and that delicious strawberry mist he loves. Tottering on heels that'll break my legs if I miss a
step.

But I really like Jake and it's New Years. We kiss at midnight. Ring in 2014. We drive around,  house party one is a bust. We leave. Club Amoeba. His friends are here. We have a little competition at the entrance; who has the best Fred Astaire jump. I win. The one wearing heels. One drink and we're gone. House party two, how come there so many house parties on new years? More drinks, we dance. We dance alot. Intoxicated. High off each other,liquid happiness and prospects of a new year,a clean slate.Hopes of prosperity. It's a good high. Everyone's leaving now.

Jake goes to the car. Lights a J, calls me. I'm still dancing. Gosh,I love dancing. I go to the car. All the windows up, he's hotboxed the car. I get in. A waft of the good herb hits me. He passes the J over and starts the car. He thinks its good night to show me the hand brake turn. See this is when you deliberately  turn sharply reversing the direction of a vehicle by speedily applying the handbrake while turning the steering wheel. I think to myself, we are
going to die. But I don't care. Live fast , die young right. That's the thing about Jake, my demons are friends with his. They dance and call this chaos we create home. I really should not like Jake. But I do.

Jake is driving to his apartment, windows up and we're singing(more like shouting) along to Power Trip-J.Cole and suddenly the car is spinning and I'm screaming on top of my voice,this feels like an orgasm. He spins the car again, I throw my hands in the air cause I see it coming this time and it feels like floating . I turn to look at him and he's looking at me, smiling, awed. We just died.

We get to his apartment. He turns on his big TV and sits, smoking a cigarette. Time to serenade the king.

Disclaimer: This is fiction. New style of writing meant for a commercial project I'm working on. Yay/Nay?! Let me know in the comments.