Raymond Mujuni

1 articles

Psalms 119: 50

16 min read3 days ago25 comments788 views

Gerald calls me at 2:46 pm. He calls from one of those numbers I don’t have saved in my phone. I look at it once and look back at the road. It’s not a police ticket I’m willing to catch. Taking a 100k fine for a phone call? From a person whose...

Menu

Raymond Mujuni

Instagram

Un’anima. 📸: @stuart_tibs
I owe it to myself to be happy.
😊☺️
Book 23: Teju uses the character Julius to explain how complex relations are in cities with multiple immigrant identities. He manages, to write well, but also leave his readers rootless. The book is completely American and makes little effort at enabling anyone outside of America understand it. It is, nonetheless, a read. Ps: It might be my bias against fiction that made it less appealing
Leaving this here because if a book emerges from these series of blogs, I hope I remember the quiet start!
Pleased to accept the National Journalism Award For Explanatory Reporting. Onwards, Upwards
Pere Wasswa liked to remind us that “we were the light of the world”. He said it with grace and dignity and a calming assurance. As you’d expect of a catholic priest. Pere Wasswa wasn’t his name. His name was Fr. Vincent Wasswa. He wore a bow moustache that defined his face with neatness. When he wasn’t in his office down the student blocks, he would be in the chapel, on his knees, praying and asking God for intercession in the problems of students. And our problems were many. Some of us had failing grades. Others crush-rejections; Because surely books before boys had been preached enough. Others had money problems. Just 10k debt. It was a lot of money then. Pere Wasswa prayed for all of them and chirpily reminded us “You are the light of the world”. He didn’t know, years on, his own altar boy would have a light hanging over his head. Literally being the light of the world. But there’s an even better light of the world. aiijuganda.org Visit it and be like Pere Wasswa. Intercede
You wrap me in your warm embrace, God 😉
Book 22: Ayaan starts out the story of this book with a visit to the death bed of her father. It’s a somber mood made worse by the fact that she’s not Muslim anymore. Her father wishes for her to keep the faith. To wear a robe. To marry a man rooted in faith. To veil up completely. Ayaan wanted freedom. She quit on her fathers dream - a dream in which he’d gotten her married to a man in Netherlands. Ayaan tactfully writes out her disagreement with her father - and family by extension offering the reader a real raw emotion of relating with siblings and parents. Nomad isn’t the book for thought and academia. It’s a story to understand and find purpose in. Enjoyed reading it off my shelf. On to the next one.

Please note

This is a widgetized sidebar area and you can place any widget here, as you would with the classic WordPress sidebar.