Statistics makes marriage
Through clearly defined intentions,
The character required in each field
Undergoes a quality control process.
The appropriate wares: hard and soft;
Under, kitchen, toilet, foot are used
To pretest consistency and occurance.
Comparison
Use the optical mark reader
To see through each others heart
And with the thermo-couple touch
Scan through the findings again and again.
Compare each life rending impulse
With adequate preperations and supplies.
The automatic coding recognition approach
Could be adopted to reduce error
In the auditory nd feelings chambers.
Ability tests on resolutions reached
Like the capacity to handle large amounts of data
Without surge needs a good software device;
So take your time to search and research
To generate the vital marriage statistics
Based on credible baseline surveys
Collated with the set standards
When 'right' appears on the screen
Right click format then 'view' object
Without ignoring your Right
Recall, "You are born to suffer!"
No, that musician was damn crazy
So don't be like that borne lazy.
First take the mortality test
By visiting all the mile-walk yards:
Like grave, court, cell, prison, worship, theatre ...
Analyse the frequency abounding there to life in each.
How much to you would be left to self-esteem, you ask;
If death, hell and infirmity cultures to the One Body?
Second, take the mentality test
By visiting all the present pretty ends:
Tallying the friends, lends, mends, tends ...
Calculate the tendency and frequency of each.
How much memory space would accomodate you
During your presence and absence in the team?
Third, take the morality taste
By monitoring and evaluating all the beds:
From nursery through pocket and closet to see.
Feel for yourself the rate of patience, rhythm of sacrifice
pace of yearning, depth of initiative, width of excitement,
breadth of rapport, intensity of tolerance, glamour of design,
artfulness of science, quantity of hunger, quality of anger,
level of dependence, origin of hate ...
Thus far, the harmless agapevirus should be manifest
But should the deadly erosvirus emerge instead,
Act swiftly and decisively on the systems approach
To avoid General Data Dissemination System crush
And corruption of the entire program:
"Press Control Alt Delete" Now!!!
Another Coup-de-tat
There, in that Colleague,
Where discipline was a scare,
Knowledge a distant love;
I restored hope, in two leap hopes.
There, in that House,
Where colour was dark and pale,
Unity a rogue bond;
I gave to serve, in ten tiring hops.
Now, I am neither colleague
Nor House by any standing
Ousted by fierce treachery, malice,
propaganda, rumour, spying mistrust.
Falsity, pretence, hypocrisy,
accusations and counter accusations,
blatant lies, money, money reign.
Faith without a face,
And yet another coup-de-tat.
[Uganda’s High Court was surrounded by military commandos during one of the treason trials there an act that was widely seen as a coup against justice. But this happens in everyday life as well especially in the NGO world were charity and subsidiarity are used to suppress human dignity.]
Fleeced
I knew all along
That only sheep live to suffer
Being fleeced to bare shame;
Cut Skin thin
Unto nakedness to dress the rich and warm;
But I too,
With my age and wisdom.
Alas!
It’s too late.
These predictions are too much for us.
Gaza Stripped Free
What became of the flea
that jumped over the tree?
On hearing the sulky stone Cry
It leapt hoops with a try
to a platform yonder Free!
Then what trial did trail
When Gaza was stripped free?
Fire filled families feasted
Bullet belted babas rested.
Is Peace to Blame?
Peace, it takes two TeTes to tangle
But for two BeBes it is dialogue
What with Israel hitting Palestine
And Lebanon being grounded the same
Why? Israel! Why? Palestine!
Why? Lebanon! Why at all?
You Emissaries of peace,
Save the missiles of waste.
To save two, two must dialogue too
Are all not a people of promise?
And doing the Cain to Abel,
What good will it bring?
Here, we have lately held out the olive
For hand in hand and chests to embrace.
How would now a brother’s keeper be
If out of no dementia and death
Reconciliation works not to be?
How then, our respected neighbours
Shall our children continue to sea?
Waste, death, damage; and dementias flee?
To be told: For two this happened to us too?
Peace, come visit and please stay on within;
Peace, clothe us all, not none to none;
Peace, in losing and weakness as winning.
Be first to give in to life
Be fast to receive the brunch.
Blame is to you who offend the innocent
Children, women, civilians
All sent to their run, death, hell
Buildings and natures all
Grounded under your arm
Whatever the reason,
Blame is to you
Who mighty and high
Supports such wanton
And irresponsible anger
Causing blood to flow
Where only tears would;
Spilling life of peace
As if peace were to blame!
Jungle Jingles
We traveled a journey so long
Cutting through thickets and forests
Te restore the original bounty
Of a People, of Faith, Traditional
We struggled to keep our heads high
Putting sticks and stems together
To build and sustain a universal home
With strands of love that waits
Our journey came to an end
When we our pearl bearers changed
And death to our daily drive
Of consensus crushed with a thud
Our jungle jingles hence begun
With one mouth, one unit and no heart
No other voice heard or taken
Save that of our lone pearl.
Pax Eritrea na Ethiopias
Beloved Sisters,
Brothers of the horn
What is this I hear?
In the enviable family
Of our calmly and great
Semitic ancestors?
I am drenched, tearful
And torn to the heart,
Following the outbreak of death
Within the family
In Ethiopia an' Eritrea
I have been listening to business on BBC
The world market reports in press,
All painting a gloomy picture;
To sell their products upon:
'Matumaini* is dead'
I hoping that one day,
One day, sooner than later,
Now -
Perhaps -
The hostilities would be halted
And a resumption of love embraced
Yet not,
All we hear are bomb blasts,
Brother against brother,
Kin entangling kith,
Sisters dying at each other’s powerless hand,
Parents loosing terror against besieged child,
And leaving the entire land starved an' desolate.
Eritrea,
Where is home?
Ethiopia,
Where is love?
Africa,
Where is Matumaini?
When relatives quarrel
The anger is felt not in the bone
But skin.
Why, my adored kin
Should your anger be borne deeper?
Why, my admirable parents
Must your anger enrich the woe merchants?
Who sell to you lethal weapons?
To kill, maim and devastate yours,
While they feed and employ theirs,
On your wasted efforts!
Why, children of the soil,
Must you desecrate the Holy Land?
In the name of possessing it
See, the blood flowing,
Reddening the sands, rocks and grasses,
See, the sycamore tree raped by bullets,
Wounded in all its arms and bosom,
Deserted by all wild and domestic life,
Just because, a piece of land,
Must be relocated, through war?
If tears and human blood would become fruit,
I would urge you to fight and fertilize the land.
If the bombshells could distinguish
Between right and wrong,
I would urge you to shoot and kill
Poverty and disease with stead
But to kill thyself,
Is it settlement of any dispute?
Or more vendettas created
I beg of you father, mother
Brother and sisters alike
Whether of Eritrea or Ethiopia
Africa is home
Africa is love
Africa is you and I
Regardless of what part of the earth you occupy.
We must work above superficial differences,
And cherish our Africathos as supreme
Where good neighborliness is virtue
And war against any motherland a curse.
Dialogue is our culture
Speech is our destiny.
Dialogue and speech is pure,
The way of fighting is crude
And crude things are not Truth bearers
You know, they are base, don't you?
Let us be-loved brothers,
True to each and one another,
Ourselves Being Peacemakers,
Mongers and carriers of peace!
Only then shall Peace reign,
Democracy thrive,
Poverty retreat,
Disease subside,
Development prevail
In this, our new era of African Renaissance,
Let us keep ourselves with in the embrace
Of each other,
Not as foes, anymore;
But, as those who make and remake
Without the temptation to destroy
Peace and cease-fire is what we call for,
Peace and cease-fire is what Eritrea needs,
Peace and cease-fire is what Ethiopia needs,
Peace and cease-fire is what Africa seeks,
Peace and cease-fire is what the worldly hates,
But, peace and cease-fire must be for all sakes;
Supported and nurtured by us
As Africa's priority number one:
Emiraala!
Emirembe!
Salaam!
Selamat!
Kuc!
Pax!
Amaani!
Peace!
[May 23, 2000, Uganda]
* hope
We Need Peace
"We need peace!" cries the child
Surrounded by gunfire in the abandoned home
"Peace for all, love and joy!"
She shouts in vain
But where has peace failed?
Who has peace stolen?
Why has joy slept?
When shall love return?
My ancestor--my kinsman
wherefore do you leave me so
Destroyed, damaged, demented in death?
Do you still hold me like you did before
Calling upon me to repent when I wrong you
Bringing me to peace with a neighbor wronged
Setting me at table with a would be foe
Restoring my hope and enriching my courage so
Keeping me true and tirelessly in love?
How else could we be in love without peace?
How else could we be in peace without love?
More so, how could we be wise without life?
What a waste
Time, the precious timer
Of benevolence and insolence
Timing once
Never to return!
Man, the frivolous miner
Of strength and wisdom
Mining once
Clever to become!
Money, the scarce talent
Of needs and deeds
Moneying once
Ever to routine!
Nature, the glorious nurturer
Of creatures and materials
Nurturing once
Safer too in turn!
What a waste indeed,
When time is spent and Man disparaged,
Money is lost and Nature exhausted,
And what is done is undone just in return!
Who is Fooling Who?
I hear the Allied Forces flying
Hammering hard indeed
At the diehards
In the ragged mountains.
I hear Billions of dollars
Have been assigned to washout
The hardened fellows from their hideouts
'At all costs'
I hear crying and wailing from all over
By children, for children, with children
Crying for food, for a penny, for peace
But getting no hearing
I hear my fellow street children remark,
'Unless you become the Devil,
No Saint will see you'
so now I go out, to become.
Tears for Years
Beyond words,
beyond comprehension
beyond human understanding
beyond common sense...
But God gave and
And God has taken away.
Sooner, though
and why this soon?
In a Presidential craft?
Under natures own time
In known Mt. Moroto clouds?
And Lost to the eye in a wink!
Really, should it have been
Dr. John Garang de Mabior:
Ph.D. Agricultural Economics
Vice President three weeks
Fighter for fairness 21 years?
Was this his life's farewell-
A Visit of common gratitude,
or Destiny's short calling?
Did Hell's own copter crush
Down to sixty
a body so fit and humorous?
Nature, tarrying a sweet tale;
before it's told,
empty of reason and logic.
And he is crushed, d...
No! Not gone...
Not done... No!
Allah!
My God!
In your mercy,
Take good care,
Take special care of Sudan, of Africa;
Take care of this world
Take care of Rebecca and all.
Demarry death with health:
Plant peace, safe Resource in Equity
And may Your will be done,
With love -
Eternal rest in Peace -
Amen! Amen! A! Men!
[August 1 2005]
Gulere Wambi Cornelius [Born 1968 March] holds a Master’s degree in Management of Development of the University of Turin (2002); Master of Arts in Literature [2000] of Makerere University; B.A (Hons.) Makerere University [1996]; Diploma in Education of the Institute of Teacher Education, Kyambogo (1989). I have also participated in several community development initiatives and courses.
The poem “Pax Eritrea na Ethiopias” was written with tears and anger. It was in response and utter disbelief why Ethiopia and Eritrea were locking horns despite their common ancestry. For just a strip of land politically curved out and given to a brother a lot of blood had been shed for years. These terrible massacres during the armed conflicts between Eritrea and Ethiopia form the subject of the poem although it figures out one terrible day in the whole struggle. Early in 2000, I was a participant in the “Against All Odds: African Languages and Literature in the 21st century” conference held in Asmara capital of Eritrea. The year before I had been in Addis Ababa capital of Ethiopia during the worst famine and drought. It was also the year when the University students held a violent strike. All was in chaos. On the streets it was all filth, child prostitution, HIV/AIDS, malnourishment and hopelessness. I went to the Economic commission for Africa offices and asked them what I could do to help. They recommended linkage with the Tewahedo Ethiopian Orthodox Church to respond to AIDS and prostitution that I did. With in six months, a high level delegation traveled to Uganda to learn from our churches and government how they had responded. That was the beginning of hope for the otherwise wonderful people of this long tradition.
What I saw in Asmara was different. There was newness and hope. We were taken to a place called Segnetti where the worst battle had raged in years past. I sang to the congregation there gathered the anthem of my people “We are indeed blessed”. It was touching both to me and my audience to realize how close we were in terms of human needs and aspirations and yet antagonistic at the same time.
I later learnt that on May 22 2000 Segnetti was attached, the ground on which we had stood was littered with human bodies. My heart bled. I wrote this poem and circulated it through Rotarian friends in UNICEF Eritrea who in turn circulated it to other people who had been at Against All Odds. On 26 May, Africa Day, I was told that some calm had been established. Who knows, may be this still small voice from my humble self could have contributed something to the declaration of peace and cessation of hostilities.
Similarly I wrote “We Need Peace” in response a BBC radio report on the massacre of people including children in Holy Land. The particular incident that sparked off this poem was the killing of people in the Nativity Church in Bethlehem on a date a really can’t recall. I have been to Bethlehem, Jerusalem and Ramallah so whenever I would hear these reports my heart would sink into panic. Many young friends were members of the Orthodox Church in Bethlehem and I always feared for their death.
I sent the poem to my friends in Bethlehem as a message of solidarity to give them hope that all was not lost. We together cried for hope when they wrote back to tell me how much the poem had restored their hope for life. In the campaign that followed, the worst siege of the Church of the Nativity ended without force. There was a power beyond the gun that dealt the deathblow to the armed struggles in Holy Land.
“What a Waste” and “Who is Fooling Who” were one poem written in response to September 11th. I kept wondering whether justice would be achieved through destruction of one by the other. I knew that the world had been unfairly treated by these suicide killers but was uncomfortable to recommend tit-for-tat. I shared these poems with the people and leadership of the USA hoping against all hopes that the matter would be handled with restraint. Indeed, when the US president declared war against terror, he no doubt had some of our insignificant voices in mind.
The last poem, “Tears for Years” was written as an elegy for Dr. John Garang de Mabior the first Vice president to the new Sudan. This long time freedom fighter and head of the Sudanese People’s Liberation Movement (SPLA/M) had been killed in a helicopter crush on his back home. I derived this poem from a though entitled, “Garang, a Jesus Figure”
I can trace my concern for peace from my Orthodox Christian background and my parentage being that of strict disciplinarian schoolteachers that always insisted on peaceful resolution of conflict at home. Whenever I felt like striking back, my mother would ask me to strike her instead and my father would not listen to any justification for a fight or quarrel. I grew up to fact that everything had to be resolved through either dialogue or silence. Whenever I feel that people are being unfair to each other I resort to poetry as music to instruct them to sanity. I used to speak on radio talk show but realized this was a bit violent so I stopped.
My closet encounter with death was in 1979 during the Tanzanian liberation war. Our father had to abandon four of us his children at Baitambogwe, a primary school where he was head teacher and we were studying. I was 12 years and in Primary six while my elder brother and sister were 13 and 14 respectively. The brother that follows me was 10 years. (He was killed 20 years later by a ‘Christian’ mob in Lira-Apac on Sunday March 11th 2001 on his way to monitoring elections in Northern Uganda). But the four of us had braved the sun, long distance, and empty road to return home to our parents dead or alive. Baitambogwe is very close to Magamaga military barracks and in the school buildings is where the fleeing soldiers came to hide. This put us under risk of being bombarded by the fleeing and pursuing troops. We were held under cross-fire for at least three weeks until one of the teachers Mr. Magada Bosco Tom, decided one morning that we should walk together back home 80 Km away. We started the journey with hope at 6:00 am and were at home in Nsinze by 6:00 p.m. It was both joy and sadness to reunite as a family. My feet were sore and my neck was crushed under my little luggage of books that I refused to leave behind. This journey has constantly reminded me to work for peace whatever it cost.
I have since been involved in peace initiatives in Somalia, Sudan, Syria, Lebanon, Cyprus, Holy land, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Uganda, Senegal (Casamance) and have visited Gore Islands just to reflect on how slave trade happened. These contacts with people in suffering have greatly influenced my writings for peace.
I formally got married to Grace on November 3rd 2002 in Kampala soon after my graduate studies in Management of Development of the University of Turin held at the United Nations Training Center of the International Labour Organization (ITC / ILO) Turin, Italy where I took particular interest in the war monuments in this city. Our sons Titus (26 Aug. 2003) and Kornelius (11 Sept. 2004) were born and named bearing in mind the lessons behind the dates when they were born. Titus in his book teaches that when you counsel somebody and they change not, keep silent and do not get bothered with them lest it turns into chaos or disrepute on your part. As for the latter, not only was he born on the 911 but very difficult circumstances too. On this day, we lost His Beatitude Pope Peter VII, Patriarch of Alexandria, in a plane crash in the Mediterranean en-route Holy Mount Athos for an official visit. Memory eternal! Peter and Cornelius are well known in their mission to the Gentiles (which most of us are). His Godparent was Peter Georges from USA, something that happened by chance. Such incidents have affected my way of writing especially the unpredictability of events. Even my dear Grace, was brought up in the Muteefu family who are my clans mates (of the light Clan - Omwise Mwase). I had met with this family in very different circumstances before we got married. Indeed when Kornelius came around, it’s the Muteefu family that took the grand paternal care through churching and baptism. Many of her friends too were my friends during our school days but I had never met at all with her. Here lies the real origin of my strong conviction of hope in my works. Nothing can determine anything except “Matumaini” – hope.
Born and bred in the rural Nsinze village of Iganga district in Eastern Uganda, I started writing poetry way back in 1984 when I was still in high school. I edited the college Riverside Review and wrote the Namasagali Chronicles (1985). In 1987 I founded the 14th of January newsletter for my Hall of residence (Mandela Hall) and wrote the National Teachers’ College, Masindi College anthem. I founded the Literature Association at Makerere (26/10/1994) and composed its invocation, became Sub-editor of Dhana - The Literary Journal of Makerere (1996 - ) and also founded Kodh'eyo, a Lusoga language newspaper (1996 -98) becoming its editor-in-chief. I have been teaching on the Oral literature, African Cinema, East African Literature and Materials Development Courses at Makerere University since 2000. At community level, I promote Mpolyabigere RC RICED Centers – (rural centers for recreation information, communication, education and development.) I have written and published some of these poems on www.poetry.com. I am ready for any Peer Correspondence on any subject regarding my work and other works in English and Lusoga. My email contact for this purpose is: gulerefoundation@gmail.com, YOUTUBE 68Riddler and gblog: riddler. The selected poems address political events in Africa and other areas of the world.
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