The computer brain

In the 1930s a neurosurgeon named Wilder Graves Penfield discovered, through electrical stimulation of certain areas of the brain, that people can remember some past events and how they made them feel. Penfield concluded that the brain works like a computer with memory banks; it records and stores specific things we see or hear and those memories and feelings are often replayed and relived as vividly as when they first occurred.

What do you feed your mind on?

The memories and emotions stored on the brain can be triggered back to life by a statement or deed, and can affect the rest of our day negatively or positively. Thus a bad history and unpleasant experiences often influence an individual's attitude towards life. The brains of pessimistic people are full of negative data from bad past experiences. 

But with this knowledge you can change that. As a child you probably had no control over what entered your brain, and you are still struggling to cleanse it of all the negative vibes projected onto it. But as an adult, you have control over what is stored on your mind. If you surround yourself with people who are worriers, or who can't speak three words without cussing, your brain will save sad and dirty vibes and before you know it your speech will be depressing and your disposition sour. If your idea of weekend entertainment is watching pornographic movies don't be surprised when you end up raping  your maid. 

Paul the apostle said we can shield the mind from corruption by thinking only on things that are true, honest, just, pure, lovely and of good report; things that are worthy of virtue and praise. Feeding on such uplifting things by choosing carefully who we interact with daily, what we see, read and generally participate in, will enrich the bank memory of our brain so much that it will store and replay memories and feelings as will only orchestrate success, beauty and happiness in our lifestyles and relationships.

Being free again

I was thinking of childhood friendships that had no inhibitions. We walked together hands around each other's shoulders, laughed together in the sun, and shared everything in comradeship whose roots went deep.

It makes me wonder what happens when we grow up. 

Young, free and happy. What happens when we grow up?

Suddenly the distinctions of race and class emerge from the shadows and dictate how we live and who to welcome into our lives. We stop walking together, laughing together and crying together freely as we did when we were young. We build walls around us and retreat in shells like tortoises only emerging inch by inch; growing more suspicious of one another even when there's nothing to be suspicious about. 

We hoard so much when a neighbour is naked and starving, we employ the unqualified haves at the expense of the qualified have-nots. The poor are ostracized from their little plots of land so the rich can build more mega factories. There's no longer dwelling together in love as a people who all have blood flowing through their veins and who all live to die some day. 

The "poet of enslaved humanity" Pablo Neruda said "things keep on happening" and maybe what he called the "rubble that darkens the stones" and "the blackness of nighttime" has  followed us into daytime and settled in our souls otherwise what would compel us to live so selfishly and insensitively like monsters in a jungle.

In one of his literary masterpieces, Joseph Conrad talks about "a land without memories; a land where nothing could survive the coming of the night, where each sunrise like a dazzling act of special creation, was disconnected from the eve and the morrow." To me this is the land of heartlessness with humans turning against fellow humans like wolves that devour each other.

Yet we are called human beings because we have a heart, a conscience to distinguish good from evil, and a will with which we can rise to the greatness of character that makes us live and love like we were created to live and love.

Be real

A man lived with his wife for three years after which he sent her to the U.S. on a shopping spree. She didn't return. The man followed her there only to find her in another home living with another man. She received him and introduced him to her new husband as her houseboy back in Uganda. 

Be the real you and you'll be fine

The man returned crying and went straight to see a marriage counsellor: "Can you imagine my wife called me her houseboy?"

"That's what you were all those years you lived with her; you refused to assert yourself as a man," the counsellor told him. "She found a real man."

It really is true that when you refuse to be a man, people will turn you into a door man. I've discovered that being firm and unpretentious pays dividends. When you are real you might come off as arrogant and it might push some people away but those who stay will love you for it.

My best friend is one of the realest human beings I know. When we were at Campus there was a looker in class that many guys would fall over themselves to please. She would  simply say, "I need airtime" and a guy would pull out 20k and give her. One day at 1pm, she fixed my friend a seductive smile and said, "Ken, you've never bought me lunch."

Ken turned to me and said, "Look at this fake chick begging for free lunches.”

I'll never forget the shock that came to her eyes. No guy had certainly ever told her off like that. I thought she would never speak to us again. To my amazement, she brazenly started chasing Ken while rejecting all the guys who would do anything to please her.

Free to be me

I met a free spirit on a journey to western Uganda. She strode through the aisle like a model straight to the last row on bus and squeezed between me and a woman with two children. Having sat down, she fixed me a cheeky smile and winked at the adorable children on the woman's laps. 

Life's too short; be yourself and enjoy it

She then opened her brown leather handbag. It was the biggest handbag I ever saw; her arms must have iron weight to be able to carry that bag! Guess what she pulled out of that gigantic handbag? A chicken thigh that must have been a maraboustock's, for it was way longer than a normal chicken's. She made the sign of the cross and tore through it ravenously.  How she moved her jaws and smacked her lips! 

She was generous too; she tore off two pieces and gave the two children who had been watching her like a dog keen for a bone from its master's table.

Having eaten, Ms Free Spirit opened her handbag again and pulled out a green bottle with a long neck. She brought it to her mouth and galloped down its contents with wild relish.

The bus was playing a song by Mesach Semakula, and this lady easily sang along. In fact she sang like a balladeer to every Luganda song that followed, word for word. Some people turned to look at her singing and she didn't mind them at all.

I thought to myself, what a free-spirited woman this is! Then I remembered the words of my philosophical friend that "Life is too short, sweet but hard." This lady seems to know this and makes the most of life from the way she strides into the bus to how she munches her chicken and sings her heart out to the songs pumping from the bus stereo.