Thursday, 17 March 2016

Stay Out of My Womb, Stay Out of My Business.

Something happened on air this morning that totally threw me off.

We were discussing whether or not a parent should compensate a babysitter, or even a friend, if their child breaks something of theirs.  Like a phone, or laptop.  My stance is, if my child broke something belonging to someone I had asked to look after them, I would feel compelled to refund them or at least contribute towards the cost of getting a replacement.

Big mistake, so it would seem.

A female listener called the show.  Sternly, she asked me if I have any children, to which of course I answered in the negative.  She went on to say that the only reason I had that opinion is the fact that I do not have a child, as no mother would ask another mother to pay for something broken by a child. 

(Please note, she ignored the fact that I said I would feel compelled to refund if my child had broken something belonging to someone else.  I didn’t say that I would demand money from someone if their child broke something belonging to me.)

I am rarely rendered speechless.  But I was.  And I’ll tell you why.

I understand that there are many things I can’t comment on when it comes to motherhood.  Like the pain of childbirth, the love a mother has for a child.  The only experience I have of that love is from a child’s perspective.  In this instance however, I do not think the fact that I am not a mother had any bearing on me sharing my opinion on this topic.

I am exhausted by the comments I deal with, almost on the daily, as to my childlessness.  People seem so concerned that I don’t have a child.  Like there is something physically or mentally wrong with me.  Like I am too selfish and ‘precious’ to just get on with it and get pregnant.

‘’Siima, what are you waiting for?  What is the problem? We want a baby! Give us a child!  Ah, you like doing your nails, you can’t handle being a mother.  We want twins!  Why are you wasting our time? We want to see what you’ll look like pregnant!! Just get a baby!’’

There are many reasons I have not had a child yet, none of which I am willing to share here, and none of which I have to tell anyone.  I know I am not the only woman my age that gets such comments regularly. 

I shudder to think of the number of women who have had such insensitive utterings thrown their way, and yet they are physically unable to bear children.


So next time you feel like rubbing some chick’s tummy and asking her when she’s going to ‘use it’, next time you tell a woman YOU feel ‘should have had a baby by now’, next time you ask me why I have puppies instead of ‘just getting a baby’- just don’t.  Stay out of my womb, stay out of my business and mind yours.  I’m not here to have a child for you like you’re going to have anything to do with it,  FFS.

Friday, 12 February 2016

Gratitude List: The Joys of Puppy Love

It's no secret that I absolutely adore dogs.

I brought my two puppies, Zsa Zsa and Pepper, from the farm in Kinoni to Kampala, right after New Years.

It had been a long time coming, lots of preparation and visits to the farm from when they were born in August.  I was especially excited because their mother, Biscuit, has been with us since she was a puppy.  When she gave birth to a litter of 8 puppies, it was a real event in our family.  Our little Biscuit was all grown up!

Biscuit. Just look at that face!


I grew up with dogs being a part of the family, but until now, the responsibility was always with my parents as regards the vet, food etc.

Now it's all on me.

It was a bit daunting at first.  No sooner had the pups been in Kampala for a week and had their appointment with the vet, they fell ill, reacting to the vaccines pumped into their little bodies.  After spending a few days at the vet's (I had NO idea there was a facility in Uganda where dogs could be admitted!!) the pups were back home, happy and healthy.

They have very different personalities.  Zsa Zsa has CRAZY fomo.  As in, she is hyper and boisterous.  Very affectionate.  And the spitting image of her mother.

Zsa Zsa. The calm before the storm.

Pepper on the other hand, is calm and chilled.  Such a laydeee.  She's much smaller than Zsa Zsa but is not to be trifled with.

Pepper.  The eyes. The ears. Pure cuteness.

My Gratitude post today is all about my puppies.  Many people don't understand why I love my dogs so much, which is fine.  It is lovely to get home after a mad day at work and see their little tails wagging.    





Here's to being grateful for pets.  I'm certainly grateful for mine.



Gratitude List: The Awesomeness of Being A Big Sister

I'll never forget the day my brother Baingana was born.

Not so much because I was going to be a big sister (finally!! Someone below me on the sibling food chain!!), but because I had won a bet with my Dad.  He bet on it being another girl, my sisters and I all bet it was going to be a boy.

When we went to the hospital, I was a bit disappointed that we weren't allowed to see my Mum, but I soon forgot all about that when we were taken to the nursery where all the newborn babies were being kept.  Of course we weren't allowed in- my Dad just held me up to the glass and pointed at a baby in the corner (they all looked the same to me- wrapped in blue blankets, with only their little scrunched up faces showing, yelling like their lives depended on it), and said 'There's your brother.''

I was a little underwhelmed, to be honest.  I mean, why couldn't I go in?  I'd washed my face and hands before we went to the hospital.  I'd been so excited to see the baby and thought I'd have something someone to play with instantly.

A few months down the line, my Mum was back home and back on her feet again.  The baby had grown, and was moved into my room, while my sister Asiimwe upgraded to her own room, since Kaine was at boarding school.

It was nice.  At first.

Then the little shit would wake up at all hours, crying and carrying on, and interrupting my blissful, My-Little-Pony dreams.  As in, come on.  I didn't sign up for this!

The final straw was the day my little brother, after being fed, projectile vomited down my back.  Dude took special care NOT to miss my hair.  I call malice aforethought.  I don't care if he was only 8 months old.  He puked on me, then smiled.  Everyone else said it was relief, but I know he was laughing at me.

But I digress.

This is meant to be a Gratitude List.

Don't get me wrong.  I love my brother.  We're all grown up now.  He's a strapping lad, intelligent and funny and capable of eating his weight in food.  Much as our first experience as room mates didn't work out too well, we are now house mates and so far, the place hasn't burned down.

Peace, yo. Now leave me alone.


I'm kidding.  We're good friends, laugh ALOT and have endless conversations about all sorts of things.  I do have to remind him sometimes that I am his BIG SISTER, even if he is taller than me.

This pose just seemed appropriate.


And once in a while, I like to look back to a time when I had this little person looking up to me, thinking I was cool and knew everything about everything.  My biggest regret is that he grew up to be an Arsenal fan.

But you can't have everything.

Here's to being a big sister to a little (big) brother.  It's pretty damn  cool.

Fancy dress Pirates.  Arrr.

Thursday, 11 February 2016

Gratitude List: The Awesomeness of Big Sisters

It’s Day 4 of my Gratitude Week and I have to admit I’m feeling quite pleased with myself, in an extremely non-smug manner.

Not that I didn't think I would make it this far.  One thing I've learnt writing these Gratitude posts is, once you start being grateful for the things in your life, it is so easy to find something to write about and be thankful for.

Today’s Gratitude List is specifically about my sisters.

I am the third of four children, the third of three girls.  (My brother is at the bottom of our sibling food chain and will get his own blog post another day.)

Kaine, Asiimwe and I have a very unique relationship in that for most of our childhood, we were moving around the world due to my father’s job.  Aside from all the usual sibling squabbles- ‘’She’s wearing my sweater!! She pulled my hair!! She’s looking at me!!’’- we HAD to be friends because when you move to a totally new country, new school, you need people who have your back until you eventually make friends and form your own squad.

Squad Goals? Perhaps.

When we would come to Uganda on home leave, usually our cousins would be in school.  So we had to entertain each other because who else are you going to play with?  The cows?  Your grandma?  I think not.

I was always lucky, being the youngest, because I had double protection.  When we were at primary school in Zimbabwe, BOTH my sisters were prefects.  At separate times.  So no one was going to bother me.  The playground, which can often be a place of dread, was a haven, a place I could skip around with no fear and without having to look over my shoulder.  (Things changed when we moved to Sierra Leone and my sisters went to boarding school in England.  But that's a post for another time).

And so it has been, now that we’re all grown up.  I’m still the baby sister, who can be sent to the kitchen, the shop, to do whatever errand our mother has sent us on that no one else wants to do.
That said, I have two defenders, supporters, and a guaranteed squad to look out for me and tell me when I’ve got some toilet paper stuck to my shoe or lipstick on my teeth.

So this is me being grateful for my big sisters, Kainembabazi and Asiimwe.

Big sisters rock.



Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Gratitude List: The Stages of Grief Revisited

This April will mark 2 years since my Dad passed away.

I have to be very honest with you and admit that I'm not quite sure how my Mum, my siblings and I have made it this far.

I've come to understand that grief is a very unique, personal thing.  Everyone will lose a parent, but not everyone will feel it the same way.

Big Bang Theory actress (though I prefer to remember her from Beaches and Blossom) Mayim Bialik lost her father a year after I did, and she put into words something I was struggling to.

"For those of you who have lost a parent, you know how I feel. You tell me you do. For those of you who have lost someone else you were close to, you also tell me you know how I feel. But you don't. Because you're not me losing my Abba."

Read the complete post here: Mayim Bialik Mourns Her Father In Emotional Blogpost

When I read that post, something clicked.  I had been struggling with condolence messages, the fact that some people were avoiding me because they didn't know what to say when they saw me (I didn't mind, actually.  I understood.)

I lost my father, the man whose presence and strength and love and wisdom held my world together. My sisters lost their father.  My brother lost his father.  My mum lost her husband, a man she had been with for more than 40 years.

United in our grief, we were also alone.

To paraphrase Mayim, we are alone in the singularity of our loss. Oh, that line hits me in the solar plexus every single time! The truth in it!!

But I digress!

This was meant to be a Gratitude List post.

I have to be grateful because I am almost at that stage where I can think about my Dad without my heart breaking.  For the longest time, just thinking about him, seeing his picture, seeing other women with their fathers, would leave me an absolute wreck.

I would cry at the simplest things.  I have found myself crying in an airport, at my desk, in the studio and in front of my TV.

The tears still come at random times, of course.  But more and more often, it is because of a happy memory.  Not that the void he left is any smaller.

The other night I had a dream about my Dad.  It was so real- I hugged him, smelt his aftershave, and heard his voice.  He walked into the house, we sat and talked.  And he asked me about my life- how is work?  Oh, I see you finally got puppies.  I hope you're not spoiling them?  And how is your young man?  Is he treating you well?

And then I woke up.  But this time, I wasn't crying.  I actually felt happy, like I'd had a chance to talk to him.  And much as it was a dream, for a brief moment, I had my father back.

So today, I am grateful that I am one step closer to living with my grief, and able to remember my Dad not with tears, but with a smile.



''Because to every thing, there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.''

Tuesday, 9 February 2016

Gratitude List: My Mama

I promised myself that I would write a Gratitude List post for every day this week.

So far so good.

But it's only Day 2 so I shouldn't get ahead of myself.

Today's post is dedicated to my mother.  She brought me into the world and on many occasions has told me that she can take me out of it again.  There is so much I could say about her, but there simply isn't enough space.  So I will just have to keep doing it piece by piece.

One of the many things I love about my mother is how straight-forward she is.  As a teenager I often hated how she would tell you exactly what she thought of your behaviour (much as you deserved a severe telling-off), and how it made her feel when you acted like a complete turd.  ''I am the only person in the world who will tell you the truth! Because I love you!'' *cue juvenile teenage eyeroll*. Ugh, I cringe when I remember myself as a teen.

Now, as an adult, I cherish my relationship with my mother because we are more alike than I ever thought was possible.  I love the fact that we laugh about the same things.  I love that we are both determinedly, unashamedly true to our truest selves. I love it when people tell me how much I look like her.  I used to think they said that because people always used to say my siblings and I all looked like my Dad, so they wanted my Mum to have at least ONE child resemble her.  But the older I get, the more I see how much I look like her.

The last time she was in town, we stayed up way past midnight talking.  It's happened before, of course, just not in a long while.  We cooked together, ate dinner, and didn't move from the table until late! (Apart from me getting up to refill our wine glasses).  And it was one of the best nights ever.

So here's to my mother, for her fierce love, her sense of humour, her constant encouragement and belief in me, and for being the only person in the world who could tell me my butt is as flat as a chapati in such a loving manner.

I am so grateful to have her in my life.






Monday, 8 February 2016

Gratitude List: Manners Never Hurt Nobody.


I usually hate Mondays, not for any particular reason apart from the fact that it's the day that drags me firmly out of weekend mode.  Lately I've been doing everything in my power to stay up-beat on this day, especially seeing as it sets the tone for the rest of my week.

I made up my mind this weekend that I really need to start work on my Gratitude Lists, because I had let them slide a bit.  (That said, I'm going to try and write one every day this week.  Pray for me.)

An incident this morning made me realise that I really should be grateful that my parents taught me manners.  Someone was very rude to me, and I had half a mind to put them in their place but then I thought- no.  Not today.  I am not the one.

You might be wondering why I didn't stand up and tell them off, explain that their foolishness has no place in an office and that they should go take a long walk off a short pier.  Or perhaps dig into my vault of rather colourful language.  Or dispense The Side Eye of Death and be done with it.  There are several reasons, explained below in my Gratitude List: Manners Never Hurt Nobody.


  • No one has ever looked bad by having good manners.  You end up looking far superior to the rude troll showing themselves up.
  • It is less stressful to NOT cuss someone out than to just ignore them.  Even if they do deserve it.
  • You know that awesome feeling of euphoria when you rise above someone else's uncouth behaviour? Isn't that so much better than feeling slightly sick because you've just behaved as badly as they have?
  • I'm not above being petty.  Instead of putting them on blast, you could always just write a blog post, vent from there, and then hope that  maybe they'll read it and know you were talking about them.
  • Headphones were invented to block out people with either droning or high-pitched voices. Why rant and rave at someone when you could just zone out to some music and feel zen?
  • Good manners cost absolutely nothing.  Bad ones, however, could cost you a business deal, a friendship, or even your job.
  • It's just not worth it.  Ever.
Neither are the ulcers and acid reflux you might suffer because they've pissed you off so much.  Find your outlet.  Whether it's music, ice cream, looking at pictures of baby hedgehogs or Google Imaging Idris Elba.  Find your happy place and don't let someone else's rudeness get the better of you.