Alshabab.explosions in my headuganda

Eleventh of seventh

The sirens, the wailing, the football and the bomb. The tale of lives lost for the love of the game. A tale of innocent lives having fun. I don’t even know how to begin this post. Emotionally, physically, and psychologically, people have been hurt. A nation celebrating Africa’s World Cup, a once in a life time opportunity and before they could even watch the winning goal someone decides they should go.

Local media, at the time concentrated on the football, there was no report on the blasts at the time they occurred. A media black-out. Self-imposed I must say as football was sought to be the issue. Not even our national broadcaster. Facebook and Twitter seemed to be the only source of information, as information trickled in. Our Televisions, very good at showing soaps also lacked in providing us with information about the blasts. The sentiment all over the social media is the disappointment in the local coverage. They could not even interrupt regular programming? I do not understand. You surprised? I am not.

As Kampala woke up to the news, it was all sombre. In the taxi’s I used in the morning after the blasts it was all quiet, when the taxi slowly glided down the hill near the National Hospital Mulago, people begun cursing. Near the Mortuary it was the same as people cursed again. No one wanted to talk about the blasts at the Kyadondo Rugby Grounds and the Ethiopian Restaurant. It was a sombre Monday after the horrific events of Sunday.

Each second that ticks, each minute that counts and each hour that we move through, in the back of my mind I tell myself it could have been me. Or you, or even that one. But it wasn’t like that. Whoever who did this probably watched these people slowly glide into deep sleep. Watched human flesh fly around and laughed away. They knew what they were doing. 

We were warned but the bomb blasts were a surprise, shocking, heart breaking and horrific. It happened. We saw it, we heard, looked at inhumane pictures of corpses helplessly resting in those plastic chairs. And who has the answers to explain the 74(number subject to change) dead people? I don’t know.
But there is one more thing, we still stand up, hold our handbags, clutch our briefcases and find our way to survival. We do not give up like that, we do not lay low, but we move forward for the optimism is the light that shines within us. Persistence lives within us.

Our pearl that sits in the middle of the African continent shall forever prevail. And then instead of facing down, we shall look up, look at the times we had enjoyed with our loved ones and we shall decide that those are the moments we want to live. And I shall openly tell that “enemy of love,”
“you have failed, for we still have life.”

 What you have brought to us is fear, and that we will do our best for I know it’s not easy.

On the eleventh of seventh I will though I’ll look to the skies and shout “FOR GOD AND MY COUNTRY.”

5 thoughts on “Eleventh of seventh

  1. “we still stand up, hold our handbags, clutch our briefcases and find our way to survival. We do not give up like that, we do not lay low, but we move forward for the optimism is the light that shines within us. Persistence lives within us.”

    For God and My country

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