By Myself

Humans. Human beings. My fellow beings. You can call me what you want; black and ugly but you can’t convince me that the lord don’t love me. At the end of the day more often than not am contented with the work of my hands, the hands that the Lord has allowed me to use. Still, someone somewhere has a problem with that. You call me lucky, why can’t it just be that am blessed?

I have a date with my future as such am a track star running through life chasing my dreams. I zone off sometimes thinking what heaven is and what is hell; if so what happens to a changed man and woman who die in their cells in Uganda’s Luzira and Kenya’s Kamiti? I need no answers to these questions because time will tell since I have a date with my destiny, she is my virtual girl-friend, and she’s more than a girl.

Don’t much good come from me but my work it’s a gift given from God, so ama’ use it. I put a message in my handy work and verbs hope it brightens your day, if times are hard when you read it, see it or feel it then you know you will be A-Ok. My Dad told me, “God’s favorite have a hard time”. Somedays am in public by myself, I think about nothing more but life what else?  My friends can’t understand the new me, that’s understandable. 


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