A blog to show my love for Uganda; The Pearl of Africa. Cheers! [this is secondary blog]

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Reblogged from nngwe, Posted by nngwe. Filed under: #kampala #Uganda #photography

The Butchery. Kampala, Uganda.


The Butchery. Kampala, Uganda.

Night in Pader, Uganda (Petr Jan Juračka)

Night in Pader, Uganda ()

Boda bodas, Kampala, Uganda (Toby Neal)

Boda bodas, Kampala, Uganda ()


Uganda held an invite-only Pride parade this weekend, the first since the Anti-Homosexuality Act was overturned. Being gay is still illegal in Uganda, but it is no longer illegal to “promote homosexuality” by associating with other LGBT people or being “gay in public.” Police gave their permission for the event, and there were no protesters. Small steps, huge impact. (via BuzzFeed)


fishing village at Lake George (Uganda)


fishing village at Lake George (Uganda)


“Jeune Afrique” showcases designs by Marianne Fassler, Tart, Rich Mnisi and Morphe, among others, shot by photographer Steve Marais and styled by Jess Lupton.

Models: Aamito, Palesa


Eria Sane Nsubuga

Country: Uganda

Style: Expressionist/ Semi-Abstract


Fun Fact:


Well, I think people should do what they want to do – what they really want to do. What has happened in Uganda is that we feel helpless, we are afraid. You censor yourself. Self-censorship – that’s the first thing. Second thing – if you don’t censor yourself then the galleries will censor you, because they also need money and they can’t risk being hunted down or something. Most Galleries often want to show everything apart from the real issues and for me that’s frustrating. The artists here are afraid, so they use a lot of symbolic in their work. I used to do that as well, but in the end I thought that it wasn’t direct enough, which was finally confirmed to me recently. A lot of my work is getting more direct, because I talk about some personalities in the paintings.


1. Arrogance

2. Christ at Golgotha

3. Taxi moment (Life in public transportation)



6.The Modern Bride (of Chucky)

7. Mind of His Own

More at

insane living


I leap and clap and in ecstasy sway,

To a beat that –they claim -is only in my head,

I scream with delight at the clouds, all so bright,

In yellows and golds and silvers and reds,

And yet they insist the sky is just blue-white.

The sky softly whispers, a quick contradiction,

“Don’t worry,” it says, “they lack your insight,’

A fly buzzing past; a charming quick blurry…

 Of… Thin legs… Neon colors,… Fragile wings.

Whispers  a joke…. I collapse with mirth.

I am filled with happiness, I don’t know why!


The men in white, faces clad in solemn gloom,

Scan me with intensely searching eyes.

Armed with needles and fancy looking tools,

They probe, they pierce, they ask to no end,

Tiring, irritating and never-ending questions,

The women in blue. Ill fitting dresses,

Hand me colored pills and keep a safe distance,

Afraid perhaps of catching happiness?

So I tell them-again- about my husband Mark,

Who sits beside me daily  and makes love to me  at night,

I tell them about…about the twins; they make five today.

The sad men and blue women; sadly shake their heads,

“Your family is no more,” they shamelessly lie,

“You set them ablaze, three years ago,

 In a smoldering fit of rage, that lasted three days.”

My husband beside me, tickled by this remark,

Slides to the floor; laughing, clutching his sides,

A gentle rebuke spills forth from my tongue,

“It isn’t nice, Mark, to laugh at the insane”

 by Dorothie Ayebazibwe (Uganda)

Shortlisted for the Beverley Nambozo Poetry Award 2014