2005

This photo was taken in 2005/6. 

I had just left my job at the radio station where I worked for two years. 2005 was also the first time I applied for a Master's scholarship to the U.K. I received another U.K scholarship after applying the second time around, a few years later.

I was a writer, a poet, unabashed and relentless. I wove words like the territotial and fearless honey badger. I preyed on muses and devoured them.

I also swam, wrote stories and loved to travel.

Twenty years later, I added a new name, finally got that Master's scholarship and bore four children. My writing rituals and muses remain unchanged. Still devouring literature and enjoying new scenery.

We do not change who we are. We adjust our behaviour and yet we ultimaely remain the same. Marriage, high income, wealthy status, new titles and more, do not change us. We are who we are. If you feel you are changing, then maybe you're in the wrong environment.

Just enhance who you are, harness your gifts that are already there and let your environment, enable you to blossom. 

Nobody was born a mistake. They may have made regrettable decisions and circumstances delayed their goals. 

Our souls were meant for fulfillment. 

It's a shame to waste the life we've been given.

Bless!

Bev

Ihuoma

 The Power of Words

I used to hate the gap in my teeth, until I read Elechi Amadi's novel, that centred on Ihuoma. The novel was also also part of my book club discussion. 

This was the introduction to my African writers, while I was still in secondary school. Ihuoma the protagonist captivated me, the storytelling was compelling and rich.

Photo taken in 2020.

During my Master's, I wrote a poem titled 'Ihuoma,' as part of my final thesis.  Here is part of the draft.

Ihuoma, you should have walked away

when Elechi Amadi started creating you from the mystery

of African words, long before books mattered,

because the songs were enough.

 

Elechi Amadi, beguiling and masculine,

gave you the blessing and the curse of the gap in your teeth

and named you beautiful.

 

He created you even before you knew

the meaning behind a full moon and harvest,       

when your parents were feasting with the villagers at your birth.

 

Instead of walking away

like the darkness when it meets the sun,

like hunger when it meets a yam feast,

you let Elechi crown you with chapter

upon chapter of his novel.

 

And now, 

it is not your natural charm

nor discerning eyes that matter

nor your ears that can hear a man whispering into your daughter’s ears.

 

It is the gap in your teeth,

the African woman’s jewel and Judas.

 

 

Poem by Beverley N Nsengiunva

A Studio Photograph Beats Any Phone Image

 In 2016, during our second poetry festival in Uganda, we requetsed each participant from the different African countries to submit their bio and photograph.

This is what often happens when you request poets to send their professional photographs. Please avoid this at all costs.

1. They are dressed in regalia that hides their face, in a dimly lit room.
2. A cropped photograph of them on an aeroplane.
3. A photograph of them sharing a stage with others, their back to the camera.
4. Their face hidden behind a microphone stand.
5. Arms spread outward facing the ceiling.

PLEASE ALSO NOTE:
AN IPHONE PHOTO IS NOT THE SAME AS A STUDIO PHOTO. GO TO THE STUDIO AT LEAST ONCE A YEAR.

It is preferred to have a portfolio of photographs, and ensure that there is an updated professional photograph of not less than six months to a year old.

This photo below was taken in 2015; the year I began taking annual professional studio photographs.

Many people kept asking me to send them stories, respond to interviews, to send poetry for magazines and each had to be accompanied by a photograph and bio.

Some people though, have sometimes gone back to old photographs that they find of me on the internet.

I remember there was one particular photograph which a journalist from one of the leading papers in Uganda used every single time.

There are those exceptional cases.

Time for you to go to the studio.

20s, 30s and 40s

 The next time you seek advice on something pertinent to your life, try seeking it from someone in their twenties, thirties and forties and compare the information.

In my thirties

In my forties

It's quite incredible how a decade of experience shapes our knowledge in vastly different ways. It is fascinating to note how our world views shift over a decade in time.

The preoccupations of most people in their twenties differs in colossal amounts, from someone in their forties.

Even within a week, I find myself growing in thought process and reconsidering a few past ideas and values. How much then, can a decade change us?

Just try it. Seek the same advice from these different categories and you'll be amazed at how time and experience, really does create a mindshift.

Bless!

Beverley

Playing

 Playing.

From ages 5 to 8, I was extremely shy in class and wouldn't say a word, until it came to sports and games.

That's when my powers, lit by the electrifying touch of the playground would surge through my veins.

I became The Incredible Bev.

Tearing off my outer clothes and showing my Cape, I'd fly across, charging with exuberance.

I see that happening a lot in Team Building.  The unassuming and inconspicuous participant suddenly flaps their wings and shocks everyone.

There's so much that can be learned from playing games.

Firstly, you learn that all the organisational strategic planning, social etiquette and lessons on self development diminish. Suddenly,  it's all about winning and everyone has their teeth in the game.

When divided in teams, members are quick to discern that the big office talkers are not necessarily the most agile.

People's competitiveness reaches its peak when they demand a rematch.

The stakes are high. Tempers flare.

People reorganise their teams. Winning is a must. Nothing else matters. They will roll in the dust, jump on balloons and run the three-legged race to win.

And that's when the highest form of team Building is seen. No need for a planning meeting. Just let them play games. Let them rehash their primary sports.

Playing.

So much can be learned. In order to win, to reach your goals, sometimes you have to get all hard and give it your all, poise and perfection aside.

Bless!

Beverley

Remembered After 24 years

 Yesterday, 17 February, after supporting a team of public speakers and leaders at a huge meeting under Toastmasters,  one young gentleman, a fine speaker, walked up to me.

"I remember you. You taught me at Makerere College School."

He remembered me after 24 years. A number of the students I taught would actually be in their 30s. Am I proud, or what? I am twirling in my teaching experience. My mentoring, coaching and training experiences and impact have extended beyond borders, an experience which a classroom designation would not have given me. 

And so, even though I have hardly spent time as an official classroom teacher, I have built a dream for myself and others.

For my Advanced level at high school, I studied at Makerere College School, one of the finest schools within Kampala City. I was appointed the Head girl too, from 1996.

After my first degree, during my student teacher practice, I opted to train from there. That was in the years 1999 and 2000.

And this gentleman remembered me. I am content, and curious to know  how my other former students are doing.

My first official teaching job was at Rainbow International School Kampala, in 2001. I taught for one year and that was my initial international teaching experience that thrust me into a diverse and exciting world.

For over 20 years, I've consulted,  having visited over 30 schools in Africa, training both students and teachers in public speaking, designing curricula,  supporting their poetry departments and debating clubs. 

In between,  I worked at a radio station for 2 years and an NGO for 2 years.

This has enabled me to remain constantly aware of my strengths and weaknesses, while building strong networks globally.

Here I am, February 2024. Ready for my year.

Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva

Kampala

Chase The Truth Until The Truth Chases You

 You will chase the truth, until the truth finally chases you

This is me in my twenties. Without children, without  rent to pay or a needy boyfriend to cater to, and yet my twenties were the time when I seemed to carry the greatest burden that I have ever carried in my life. Bullying.

In school, I was never bullied and if I was, for the life of me, I do not remember. I was good at reading, always elected or appointed as a class leader, dormitory leader or head of the school, great at sports and my stage presence was unmatched. Once you have those, school is enjoyable. And so, for the most part, I enjoyed school. In any part of the world, a child who has the above, will enjoy school far more than those who only have academic prowess. And with that, I was never bullied, or if I was, I was unable to recognize it.

In my twenties, life took a turn that stunned me to the core. Being surrounded by Christians my whole life, I was always in safe places, free from scandals and drunk in Jesus. There was only one horrific ordeal, which occurred almost daily. The bullying. I was bullied in my twenties, in a way that was equivalent to hazing.

No matter the faith, environment or organisation, as long as there are people who are deeply insecure, then there will always be bullying.

Why do people bully? They bully those who are different. I have always been different. Even amongst Christians, I just never fit in with those who spent laborious hours gossiping and tearing down precious time with their slander. It made me lonely at times but it created in me a high sense of independence and so I was left out of parties a lot, left out of sleep overs and the like, because I just didn’t fit in.

I was different. In some places where tribe mattered, I would be the only person from the Bamasaaba tribe and always the boldest in the crowd, standing up to people, sometimes Christians twice my age. They were stunned at this inexperienced child, who was not one of them, standing up to challenge them. 

I wasn’t challenging them. I was just pointing out the truth.

That is what made me a target for bullying, because unlike most people in their twenties, I was pursuant of the truth. Deep down, I knew that there would never be a substitute for God. And in everything I did, I sought this truth with every fibre of my being. It was all that mattered. My family did not understand why I was wasting my life away with the things of God and neither did many of my peers. I was bullied in subtle ways, treated like an outcast. I was called a rebel.

I chased the truth so hard like and like a chick, the shell finally cracked and the truth began to chase me.

Twenty years later, I bump into some of my former bullies and I tower over them. Because my foundation was built on what is solid and unbreakable, I see how they crumble. I walk towards them and they still move with uncertainty, with an air of frivolity, vanity and emptiness. 

They still rely on their dwindling fan bases and external validation for truth. Twenty years after. I tower over them and they ask me, how I remained unshakeable.

When I tell them that sometimes difficult situations come my way and I feel like Job, they do not believe me. 

Yet I do face hardships which are unbearable. It will never show because that is not what defines me. I know who I am. That is what defeats any bully, when they meet someone who is secure in who they are.

Deeply fragile, insecure and co-dependent people are scared to stand alone in the crowd because they will disappear. They are afraid to face who they are and work on themselves because they feel worthless.

These bullies are everywhere. As a teenager, I didn’t face bullying. I faced it a lot in my twenties and when I meet my former bullies today, they are miniature versions of their former selves. 

When anyone draws close to their so-called monster, the monster disappears. It is like your eyes are adjusting to the darkness. 

Keep pursuing the truth when you are young and you will enjoy life in colossal amounts when you are older. There is no substitute for the truth.

Bless!

Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva