Of Holidays and Resolutions.

Of Holidays and Resolutions.

I usually prefer to be in the know. To fit in without effort. That's not what's happening now. It's the holidays again. It's Christmas time and soon it'll be new year's. Somewhere along the way I've come to accept that I'll never know the true motivation behind pre Christmas excitement in the real authentic meaning of the word. I'm not at all sad about this but were I to be only slightly inspired, were I to understand the need for a new dress and a new shoe, I'd have a gloriously perfect story to write home about. So I can't fit in for Christmas and I couldn't possibly fit in for new year's.  I don't make sound resolutions and I never disappoint on any front, which qualifies me as an odd aspirant for new year celebrations. To qualify for new year one should've made resolutions 12 months back that they wouldn't live up to. There should be a general air of self reproach which I can never seem to summon on any new year's day.

2015 hasn't been miraculously different. Nothing thus far has been inspiring enough to make me resolve anything for the approaching new year. In that respect I have nothing of value to share with you.
But I can tell you about 2015 escapades that weren't sound resolutions in the first place.

I finally took the city bus last week and it wasn't to appease the gods of transport as I'd unsoundly resolved to do twelve months ago. It was to evade the advances of an unusually chatty homeless person and to avoid the enveloping darkness of the late hour at a lone stage in a lone part of the city. I had positive thoughts entering the bus and seeing all seats were taken-I'd stand straight above potholes as we rode through the city. Maybe not the most dignified position for a young 20-something year old female still looking to impress but it screams adventure on any day.

Ugandans on a Ugandan bus have a way of making one feel new. I could tell they knew I wasn't a regular on this bus. I passed by bus driver without paying for the ticket and that wasn't a good first impression. Then I angrily contorted my face because I didn't want to stand next to who I stood next to. My neighbour wasn't any better than the homeless individual I'd left at the stage. He was worse. He was a drunkard with an irritating urge to grab onto his neighbour's clothes. He tended to sway to my side every time we hit a bump in the road. He kept whispering drunken words into my ear. I wasn't happy with him or the lady across the aisle who looked boldly in my face and laughed out loud. I wasn't really mad at her though,  I might in fact have laughed with her at one point.

As the new year draws near, I shall simply continue with my small acts of model citizenship. Ranting here and there about nothing in particular. Caring for fellow humans as I educate them. Loving this country as I positively criticise it. It's a love-hate relationship with me and Uganda. Rarely do I speak ill of my countrymen. When I'm pushed to my limits, say, for instance in a taxi somewhere in Busoga getting squashed between a woman with a breastfeeding baby and an unsettled toddler and a man with three chickens and a young turkey, I remain calm. I imagine given the same circumstances I'd behave exactly as my kinsmen have chosen to behave. But that train in Namanve crosses the line.

That train in Namanve is a big fat conspicuous joke. It's as if whoever instituted it picked up random carriages at the abandoned station in Jinja and went ahead to paint the thing an offensive shade of green. That train is terrible.  It shames me. It still hoots in a primitive fashion and quite steadily pollutes our air. It uses coal or charcoal in this bright new civilised day as it shamelessly rattles along on the Uganda Railway. Yes. Uganda Railway. S.S.T-Indian-Coolie Uganda Railway! The very same. Still in its original state,  never renovated. Never painted green-like the train-even as it disappears beneath the ground in some parts (and we all know that this is no unique case of a secret underground tunnel). Even as a 'new' train, a revered symbol of this country's 'steady progress' was dumped upon it. I don't like that train at all. I wish it jams up and never sees the day again. I wish earth swallows up more Uganda Railway so that that painstakingly slow excuse of a campaign strategy has no choice but to stay put in Jinja. I'll not take the train. Not even for a selfie.
Maybe I've finally resolved. Perhaps I'll join in on the fireworks.
Happy holidays. Happy new year!