The fire in Star’s belly

When I was still a little boy my best friend was "Star." Star was a black cat that had been donated by Uncle Emmy to help deal with the menace of rats in our home. One day Star scratched me, drawing blood, and in anger I grabbed it by its little back and threw it high in the air hoping it would fall badly and learn never to scratch me again. I watched as Star came tumbling er somersaulting and landed poetically on its paws. I grabbed it and hurled it again with all my strength. Still, it landed on its paws. I did this till it became evident that no matter how high I threw Star, even doing so with an element of surprise, it would never fall on its back, or badly enough to get hurt.

Thus I nicknamed it Star and my fascination grew when I learned that Star could see through the dark! I discovered this when I was awoken in the middle of the night by some ruckus going on in my room. I switched on my torch only to find Star playing games with a gigantic mouse. It would pull its whiskers with its unfurled claws; tossing it here and there until the poor mouse looked spent and helpless. Then Star would seemingly lose interest and move away. The mouse would attempt its escape but in a microsecond Star would pounce again and the game would go on till the poor mouse ended in Star's belly. 

 I've since seen many fat cats but no matter how many mice Star devoured, and no matter how much milk I served it in the morning it remained a lean little cat I guess because of the endless cat-and-mice games it starred in, and the fire in its belly and in its eyes that drove it on and made it prevail against the biggest and most treacherous creatures including snakes. 

I learned from Star the cat that no one can stop someone who knows who he is and what he's capable of.

A mother’s travail

The labour pains struck suddenly and so intensely that she sat down on the floor groaning and clutching her tummy. "Go get a car," she heaved, panic and pain etched on her face. At 8:30 pm we we were ushered into the maternity wing of the hospital, and as her details were being recorded,  we heard several women in labour wards screaming as the birth pangs hit mercilessly. Every scream gave me a deeper understanding and appreciation of women; what they go through carrying a baby for nine months, and the courage and resilience it takes to finally push that baby out into the world.

By the time our heroine was led into her own room to deliver her child, she was sweating, gritting her teeth, and her face was twisted with untold pain. Soon she was pushing and  screaming like other women. I remembered a friend of mine who had gone through so much pain while giving birth that she had vowed never to get pregnant again.

More screams pierced our ears.  My heart went out to all the women in labour but there was nothing I could do to ease their pain. We could not even be allowed in the labour room to whisper a word of encouragement to our woman, she had to face her pain alone like Jesus at Golgotha. 

Not knowing what else to do, her husband knelt on the hospital floor and prayed loudly and boldly, "Oh God of compassion; God whose breadth and width and length of love is incomparable, have mercy upon my wife and send one of your angels to wear gloves and be in the labour room with her so that she can deliver her baby quickly and painlessly!"

A nurse came out soon after and told my friend that his wife had delivered smoothly, a bouncing baby girl. We were overjoyed beyond measure but from that time my respect for women hit through the roof. You're truly the mothers of the nation, of the world, and deserve nothing but the very best. Happy belated Mothers Day.

The Macron learning curve

Emmanuel Macron is the new kid on the block. At only 39 years, he has excited the world by winning the French presidency. A BBC profile of him reveals he's a smart and ambitious kid who has always gone for gold. To the young people, he's the knew John F. Kennedy, the new Barack Obama, the new Yoweri Museveni and the new Tony Blair who all arrived on the scene so young and so capable that they inspired optimism beyond measure.

 Kennedy had his life snuffed out by an assassin before his potential was maximised, Obama realised coming too early meant leaving too early but is doing admirably well living quietly outside the presidency, Blair quit over Brexit but the cold out there has tempted him into trying to bounce back, while Museveni has overstayed his welcome and blown out the spark of inspiration he lit in many hearts when he stood outside the precincts of parliament in 1986 and diagnosed the problem of Africa as leaders who overstay in power, declaring that he was not a custodian of a mere change of guards but of a fundamental change. 

What we learn from all this is that what matters is not the quickness with which we achieve and the enormity of what we achieve but the foresight of quitting at the right time and the humility to live simply. 

We also learn that the ascendency to the peak at a young age does not mean we are smarter and better than others but simply means we were just destined to achieve early. Jesus was destined to launch his three-year ministry at 30 while Donald Trump was fated to become the president of the most powerful nation at 70. 

So whatever we achieve, let's avoid the arrivalism syndrome that often infects Ugandans; filling them with pride and stopping them from trying harder after attaining the "1234" which stands for one wife, two children, a three-bedroom house and a four-wheel-drive. One thing for sure, there's no better achievement than loving more and staying humble.

Head, heart, legs

"Testa, Cuore e Gambe" is the title of Antonio Conte's book that means head, heart and legs. Apparently that's the secret behind the Chelsea manager's success. It was also his mantra at Juventus where he won three consecutive Serie A titles between 2012-2014. Basically the Italian believes in players that play with intelligence (head), zeal (heart) and motion (legs).

Based on that simple formulae he has assembled a team that has been quite a revelation in this season's English Premier League. No wonder that at the writing of this, Chelsea is sitting proudly at the top of the table with 81 points while my beloved Arsenal that has for over 20 years finished in the top four, is in sixth position, a whopping 21 points behind Chelsea with only four games remaining. 

It's been an exciting cruise for Conte's team. While pundits have watched every match with bated breath; waiting for slip ups that would see Chelsea's main rival Tottenham catch up, the blues have continued to grow stronger because they play as a unit; each one of them giving 100 percent. Those who thought talent and pedigree alone was enough such as Oscar were sold to China and Conte gave the chance to 'underdogs' like Victor Moses who grasped his mantra and played to its tune.  

With just 245 days remaining to the end of the year, I couldn't help thinking that maybe Conte's formulae is all we need to fulfill our resolutions and succeed wholesomely. For most people using their heads is not a problem. They come up with fantastic plans and even intelligent ways of executing them but their hearts are tested when they meet challenges. That's when those without the zeal, hunger and fire of champions are exposed. They blow cold at the first sign of resistance forgetting that there's no warrior, no winner without the attributes of persistence and perseverance. 

So while Conte's team live up to his head, heart and legs style, let's also apply it in the game of life for indeed it's in exerting ourselves intelligently, zealously and forwardly in all our endeavours that we shall achieve exponentially.

Love is love

Early this week there was a hot WhatsApp discussion about Emmanuel Macron and his wife Brigette. Mr Macron who is seeking to become the new president of France is 25 years younger than his wife. He is aged 39 and she is 64. A picture of them was shared; him looking so young and handsome, and her old and wrinkled that most people wondered what bewitched him to fall for such a "centurion" as one of my friends described his wife.

But such is love. It is peculiar. It is a mystery of all mysteries. We don't choose who we fall in love with and if old Brigette is the woman that makes Macron's heart beat; if she is the woman that gets his engine up and revving so be it. I think the story was the same with Camilla Parker and Prince Charles. The British and everyone with keen interest in matters of love were utterly confounded that he could leave a stunner like Princess Diana for the arms of an old 'frog' like Camilla Parker. 

But you have to admire men like Macron who refuse to be boxed in by societal dictates. In Uganda it is a scandal for a degree-holder to marry a P.7 dropout. Personally I don't find anything wrong with that as long as the two are genuinely in love and believe they have a deeper connection that will last them a lifetime. It is better than being 'politically correct' but privately miserable. It is a fallacy that you can only flow with your agemates. That's conformity and conforming to world standards is often a deformity; it has always been the nonconformists that make things happen that make sense in the end. 

As a man I like to get hitched to woman with maturity of character. I like to return home at night and find a motherly woman who will welcome me with a hug and a nice meal. Then she will sit back and warmly watch me eat and listen keenly as I tell her about my day. Tell me if these girls that get easily agitated over makeup are capable of that?