I've Been Reading About Colonialism

I have been reading about colonialism, in particular, that of Namibia, formerly known by its colonial name, German South West Africa.

My fascination with Alkebulan, Africa's original name, has grown over the years, and increasingly as I grow, where knowledge is on my terms and not on the terms of a curriculm, self-absorbed managers or social media pundits. 

This year 2025, which is undoubtedly one of the most refreshing and invigorating ones yet, with so much exploration of my mind into the unknown while harnessing the gifts that I have, has piqued my curiosity.

The colonialists were calculating. They worked together and brainstormed on how to overrun the wealhiest continent on the planet. They did this by controlling the masses, dominating them in a non-negotiable way and then dehumanised them so much that they did not have any strength to challenge them. 

Those that did challenge them and cause uprisings, were overthrown in brutal attacks, wiping out communities, and overriding cultures, histories and herstories. 

Even when colonialism seemingly ended, there were so many new structures in place that the continent still holds onto. Many argue that colonialism brought technology, political reforms, western education and more. These are indeed important to us today.

The annihilation of peoples, cultures, eradication of languages and the utter maltreatment of people is what is unacceptable. The indescribable cruelty and degradation of humanity is what is unacceptable.

Technology is useful in many ways today. I firmly believe that without colonialism, Alkebulan would still have reached its maximum potential with innovations that the entire world would have travelled to learn about. 

I firmly believe that scientific experiments, novel research and philosophies would have made far reaching impacts, even without colonialism. 

Now that it occurred and it is irreversible, have you noticed that many of the oppressive tacics are still being used today, systemically? Look at the institutions that promise love and everlasting peace, that promise to hold yoiiur hand through thick and thin. In many of them, the moment you voluntarily opt out, they scar you for life. What happened to the faith that practised love?

Have you noticed that there are groups and establishments that oppress women in the same way that colonialists did? They eradicate women from conversations, erode their ideas from meetings and when the women share knowledge or ideas to a process, the women are oppressed further, until some of them actually believe that they are unworthy of important conversation. 

Colonialism dehumanised many communities. Dehumanization continues. People in the same place of employment, people from the same family, people from the same place of faith practise underhand methods to steal, covet, driven by extreme envy.

The word of God has also warned us to stay alert because the devil prowls like a lion, seeking whom to devour. It did not end with colonialism; today many people around us, within our families, neighbourhoods, churches and places of employment are seeking whom to devour. Their targets are usually those who are enviable, those those good deeds are admirable, whom they want to destroy. Their aim is to steal, kill and destroy and theu will manipulate, slander and destroy in every way imaginable.

Unlike the times of colonialism, there are numerous ways of sharing the truth. While brutality exists, so does the truth. I know firsthand that no matter how many times someone may try to ridicule, insult, and diminish another person, this person will always rise.

Like Joseph, the righteous will always thrive. There is something about the light in a person that overrides any darkness. Remember how David conquered the Philistine army? 

Remember how Joseph overcame slander, false accusation, imprisonment, to see his deams come true?

Unlike colonial times, the darkness will not survive, because people are more aware and the oppressed have more leverage. It is easy to identify a person filled with light. The masks of those who pretend to be good, wearing sheep's clothing over their wolfskins, are falling off. We have seen many wicked people fall. Those who on the surface appeared good and yet underneath they worked in the dungeons of despair. Their turn has finally come.

God will not be mocked. 

He is in the business of restoration.

Get ready.

Bless!

Beverley

Do you know Who You Are?

 

In December last year, 2024, I met some of my old girls and old boys from Kampala Parents' for a reunion. When we met, we almost instantly recognised one another-35 years later.

There were only about two whom I needed to be re-introduced to. Does that happen to you? People still look the same. We have often said that about our school teachers, haven't we?

In this photo, Femrite was launching its short story anthology, 'Words from a Granary,' which I had contributed to. That was in 2001, and I had just joined Femrite, where I volunteered for two years.

I wore a gomesi, at that time. I was in my twenties with a waist the circumference of a blueband tin, and anyone would have thought I would dress like Jessica Rabbit, because I could easily have pulled it off.

My only intention was to dress in something which was totally unexpected, which I did. It doesn't require a lot of planning for me to dress the way I do.

It is just an extension of my creative thought process, which is why I become surprised when people try to copy the way other people dress or talk, or even write, as if they do not have their own original thought process.

None of us should struggle to be unique. We just are. Take pride in your unique thoughts and show up with your own salient features-something which should never be a struggle at all. And something where people will say,

"Aha-yes, we are not surprised. This is who you are."

Do you know who you are?

My Brand Permits Me To...

  I had a conversation with Belinda Agnes Namutebi, now pivoting to public health. She told me, not too long ago, that certain elements in my life, may not be suitable for my brand.

I had never looked at personal brands in that way and neither had I ever fretted about them, until the time came when I was required for me to.

One of my distinct brands is to be gracious on social media, towards those who may not deserve my grace. The easy way out of course would be to reduce one's morals and dignity and respond to duplicitous individuals, in the same way that they have treated you. My brand will never permit me to do that. It is almost as if it has a mind on its own. The heart and mind operating at different levels, sort of.

I know many others whom I follow, who also have such high standards of public social media etiquette. They stand for something, and their values are clear. It is easy to notice that they belong to the noble and dignified class of people.

This is hardly about the titles you may have or the number of subscribers or followers, it is more about how you carry yourself and how, when you are seated amongst those who do not share your values, you politely and respectfully walk away without creating a scene.

Besides, there is enough drama on television, which is already well-scripted.

This photo was taken in 2009 during a family holiday to the exquisite Mihingo Lodge, Lake Mburo National Park.

I am The Sulphur That Grows Between The Rocks

 I Was A Teacher That Didn’t Teach

I am not a strong woman.

I am not a rock.

I am the sulphur flower that grows

between the rocks

and stands out 

amongst the irregular biceps and triceps

that created my missteps.

Today, I am that flower that blooms

underneath the heaviness.

The real pandemic was,

a syllabus filled with systemic sensationalism

and a curriculum that encouraged cowardice?

Each time I opened my mouth to speak,

those were only mumblings from manifestations

of a mother of 4 children who needed to eat.

And so I muttered,

Words.

Things.

And gave out faded gold stars from a faded smile.

The children scored As and Bs

and the world applauded them,

because the world likes faded gold stars

and faded smiles

that they can control.

The feisty and friendly children of the world.

International but not intentional.

Parents gawked at me.

The dwarf conifer that couldn’t grow.

I was a teacher that didn’t teach.

My mind was in its own lockdown

Long before the world locked down

And then

  The axis shifted

THE. WORLD. LOCKED. DOWN

They felt what I had felt

Movement without actually moving.

And as the world was locked,

this dwarf conifer

began to stand out amongst the rocks.

Do you see that crevice dweller,

The happy hue underneath the heaviness?

I am the happy hue

The dwarf that grew.

I am a Teacher now

And I start by teaching myself.

I learn how flowers can grow amongst the rocks

I learned how to tolerate droughts

I learned that the worst lockdown

Is when the mind is locked down

And that pandemics are internal.

I am a Teacher.

Creating a curriculum of courage

Synthesizing syllabi from dreams and destiny

Opening young and old minds

to dwell amongst the rocks.

We are not strong women

We are the sulphur flowers amongst the rocks.

                                                                            ……

Copyright:  Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva

'How Deep Is This Pothole?' Book Review of Dr. Ian Clarke's Book, by Beverley

 Dr. Ian Clarke's story, from one of his several books, 'How Deep Is This Pothole?' is such a well-delivered and apt description of the different facets of Uganda and Ireland, through the eyes of an Irish doctor. The story shares about Uganda's concealed troubles within its leadership, it shares the true meaning of  care and determination and also reveals how important it is to develop risk-tolerance.

While the primary plot unravels the unfailing courage of an Irish missionary doctor who travelled from Ireland to Uganda and developed a systematic healthcare programme through building hospitals, training facilities and expertise, the subplots are just as important.

Take for example, that when Ian and his wife Roberta arrived in Luwero, which is a district north of Kampala, with their young children, they were met with the changing and rather tumultuous regimes at the time, creating unprecedented risk. In the 1980s, AIDS was also a rising health challenge with untold of fear, unaccounted for deaths and severe emotional consequences amidst the lack of knowledge around its care.

In addition, Ian had a young family who, while fo rthe most part, they grasped his vision and supported him unreservedly, were still growing and had many questions about their individual lives and how Uganda fit into it.

Ian's story is full of heart and authentic grit. It is easy to tell the difference between a person truly invested into his purposeful journey and potential impact in using his skills to positively impact a place, and those just passing by. 

Reading about how he began building his health systems from Kiwoko to Kampala, is mesmerizing. Negotiations with Government agencies, contractors, health workers and facing the brunt of unscrupulous individuals, that could easil have deterred him but didn't.

In the midst of his resilience in developing a unique healthcare plan for Uganda, Ian was diagnosed with cancer, a battle he endured two times, and here we witness the unrivalled importance of a supportive and understanding partner, which he found in Robbie, his wife.

He began by creating a health plan, and transcended those borders into real estate across borders, by establishing himself in Zanzibar.

The true definition os unstoppable. I learned so much about Uganda and its systems, from Ian' story and I hold deep admiration for those who hold onto their visions  with relentless pursuit.

Published in 2010, Dr. Clarke has broadened his vision, since the books was published, even serving as member of Parliament in Makindye in subsequent years, with his family building their careers in the health industry and real estate.

The book is available on Amazon.

Review by Beverley N Nsengiyunva