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Without Bounds

March 07, 2012
3:03
RAGE
» ‎ Without Bounds

I am usually slow to anger. I think what this means is that I have grown adept at burying the hurt. And now this is what happens: each slight, each careless word takes its place in a growing heap until the anger is smoldering and burning and getting ready to shoot off in all directions. [...]
February 16, 2012
7:23
. . .
» ‎ Without Bounds

My Darling Doreen, For a few hours after I heard, I could not stop gasping and laughing – nobody dies of a headache. It couldn’t, couldn’t be true. And then I had relentless flashes of moments with you. Do you remember that first day we met? The first day of S.5 – you had barely [...]
February 01, 2012
22:59
As told to me
» ‎ Without Bounds

I was sitting in the Emergency Room at Queens Hospital, waiting to be called up, when this old African-American male shuffled past me. He was dirty, and he, you know, smelled. He walked unsteadily, jerking his head to the left at an awkward angle, like this, like he had a nervous tick. He walked over [...]
January 31, 2012
10:21
Crazy Eyes
» ‎ Without Bounds

If you’re anything at all like me, then you’re the sort of person who saves up funny/ interesting/ weird stories to tell to your friends over lunch or dinner. I work at one of the student resource centers on campus, and we have all sorts of students come in to ask for help with their [...]
September 18, 2011
19:44
Portrait of My Father
» ‎ Without Bounds

You know how when you’re young you think the sun shines out of your parents’ orifices? For some people this feeling passes when they hit puberty, but for a lucky few, that feeling persists, growing deeper still, because it has become an adult kind of appreciation. My father and I had our fair share of [...]
September 06, 2011
18:12
Senior Year
» ‎ Without Bounds

So…I moved last week, hurriedly, and at night, the last night before school started, because I cannot seem to do things until the very last minute. Thank God for good friends who will rescue your back by helping you lug all the possessions you’ve managed to accumulate over the last three years into the two town [...]
August 27, 2011
3:05
Oh, Irene!
» ‎ Without Bounds

I first processed the news of Hurricane Irene with Ugandan indifference: “Shyaa, mbu hurricane. Me I will just stay inside.” But then my housemate and his friends decided to leave for DC this morning. This was before Bloomberg decided it would be a good idea to evacuate large parts of all the five boroughs. I [...]
August 24, 2011
4:27
Dollar Value
» ‎ Without Bounds

Sometimes you find kindness in unexpected places. You are talking on the phone when you walk into the pizzeria—an international call too, so that you must strain to hear your sister over the crackling line. You order two slices of buffalo chicken pizza. You reach into the fridge and remove a yellow fanta, which you [...]
July 30, 2011
18:27
Kampala Re-union
» ‎ Without Bounds

I saw him standing outside Café Javas in a red plaid shirt and dark blue jeans. He wore white and red sneakers that screamed loudly: “OC!” His face was the same, the same wide eyes staring out from behind the round glasses. He was hunched over what looked like a Ushs. 10,000 MTN airtime card, punching [...]
May 29, 2011
22:55
On Writing
» ‎ Without Bounds

I have discovered, with some horror, over the last few weeks, that I have forgotten how to write. No, this is not one of those moments when I blow things all out of proportion and go on a whining spree. I have lost the patience to write. There have been several scenes that have gripped [...]
March 05, 2011
23:17
Drown
» ‎ Without Bounds

My Papa is dead. Perhaps in saying it, I will begin to believe it. Perhaps in receiving as many messages of condolence, the reality will begin to dawn on me. Me, yes, me—this thing has happened to me. And yet it is not about me at all. It is about my father, who has lost [...]
March 04, 2011
7:38
R.I.P. Papa
» ‎ Without Bounds

I don’t remember him, not really. When he came home to Bukoto, he’d have us down on our knees for fifteen minutes, running his fingers through our short, curly hair, and asking: “Yes, how are you, my grandchildren?” “What did you get in Math?” He was a Math teacher, in his hey-day. He fought in [...]

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