Mother’s Day is nothing without Mother Mary


So its mother’s day! Yes a mother is a very important Person.
I have seen quite a number of posts on social media about how wonderful everyone’s mother is, I haven’t posted to that effect though.
My mother passed on almost 11plus years ago, leaving a very huge gap in the family but with a Gallant Soldier (my Dad) who with all brevity stood to take us on, running all roles mother would have run.
I will never forget though about the activities preceding my mother’s death.
On a dull Saturday Valentines day morning in 2004, my then aging Papa and I sat in the sitting room, almost hopeless, my dad was washing my bedridden mother’s clothes that I would later take to Mulago hospital where mom had been admitted and lay in coma.
A group of Christians from our church came in that morning to pray with us for mother’s quick recovery and this lady, in agreement with my dad revolved the prayer around Mother Mary the help of the Sick.
She sang a Song many Catholics would be conversant with, “Tukulamusiza Nyaffe owekisa” and there in is a part that goes like “Abanakuwadde wamu nabalwadde obajjukiranga nobakubagiza” Those words spoke to me. Yes the spoke to me! And During the prayer the leader invoked mother Mary to come and mother our family that was without a mother.
It had always been a habit at home that the radio nob  got stuck in 103.7 Radio Maria the ‘Christian Voice in your home’, we time and again (even if some of us did not really care) treated our ears to numerous prayers casted by the waves of the Mother Mary station….the Rosaries…and my father continously reminded us of how the greatest mother let alone intercessor one could ever have is Mother Mary, the mother of Jesus so from that day on , we would take Mother Mary as mother while mom was away. I for one had known mother mary for a mother as a child but I never felt her closer to me before the way she was going to be this time round.
That same Valentines night, 2004, we were woken upto the bad news of mom’s passing. The news that tore our hearts apart and left even the strongest of us frail.
Papa, with a confused loom put his hands on his head and said “It was Saturday last week, today is also Saturday, Oh God!” Our brother had just passed on the previous Saturday and had been buried during the course of the week. In fact, my mother’s condition had worsened when she received the news of her son’s untimely death.

It was a moment of panic, like wax we melted, but had to look forward. I was only 15, young and Naive but had taken on mother’s roles at home of cooking for her grandchildren and Papa, I had kind of grown so good at it, but I missed mother because her food was incomparable, her tactics in making us happy were unmatched but now she was gone. Yes she was gone!
I asked God why, yet I couldn’t find a ready answer, I had last seen mom a few hours ago at her death bed and she could barely speak to me, my big sister had pulled me aside and hopelessly whispered “Mother is going to die” but I did not despair as a priest had just anointed her with oil in the sacrament of Life ‘anointing of the sick’ I was brave that she would see the new day alive and smiling.
I had witnessed tears rolling down mother’s cheek and I remembered her words someday as she nursed my dying cousin’s wife “when a mother sheds tears at such a point when she cannot speak, she is grieving for her children she is leaving behind”
It was that moment, I knew mother was grieving for us, yet I could not lose hope.
I was a liar. Mother was gone.
The unbearable pains  continued with only one consolation though – we had been adopted by a new mother who had watched over us always even when mom was alive. Mother Mary was now the woman I had to tell all my secrets, the woman whose mantle I had to hide into when times get tough.
Papa always reassured me of mother Mary’s presence as as a mother. Everytime he visited me at school, he reminded  me to always talk to my mother and at numerous visits left with me a Rosary.
The one time I can never forget is when I was going to sit for my Senior 4 exams, while parents showered their kids with success cards and so on, Papa gave me a Rosary and reminded me still to go with Mother Mary into the papers. I must have thought that guy was crazy then, but today that craziness is the reason for my success.
When I was going for my job interview, I told papa about it and he simply told me ‘go tell your mother about it’ I remembered and rushed out to Mother Mary’s Grotto at Church and placed all my papers at her feet and my prayer was “Papa has said I should come and tell you…..”
I got the highly competitive slot.
Mother Mary, I learnt was mummy and I had to run to her in whatever situation. Today I call her mother and tell to her whatever I would have told my biological mother. Yes I miss my mother but I have a Jesus’ Mother. Who wouldn’t be proud to be Jesus’ Sister?
Happy Mother’s Day.


Why I will never desert my Rosary

My room was warm, so warm but it was late in the night so I opened the windows for a few minutes to let in fresh air and later locked them.

I got into bed; I turned from position to another, on my back, side by side, facing down, until my body got could not do it no more. I got out of bed and back, tried to play with my phone but didn’t find any solace. I as just too restless.

Then I said a short prayer, “God, I sense something is not well somewhere but I lay it all in your hands.”

After restless hours in the bed trying to find sleep, I quietly snoozed into what I can only term as a “near death experience.”

This is not the first of its kind; I have experienced many more as far as my memory is intact.

It is a very weird sensation, when you feel like you are losing your life, trying hard to wake up but in vain. I was in spirit with the room, I kept calling roommate in the dream but I doubt she was even hearing my calls. She was probably not aware of what I was going through.

Last night was too bad, I struggled in the dream I even saw myself under attack I actually called my roommate to pray with me. She then started singing worship songs, but all this was in the dream, in real life she was also asleep.

I saw two black and ugly cats jump into the room, I knew for sure my windows were closed. But true I really knew this was a dream but it felt so real.

Normally, when I get such scary dreams, I pray within, I fight with the blood of Jesus and the sign of the cross most often.

I have realized this makes the battle longer and by the time I am through and woken up, I really feel like I have been fighting.

Similarly, last night I was in battle, a heavy fight with evil trying to rob me of my life, my stronghold was the prayer on my tongue, calling the word Jesus was a struggle; I got tongue tied but never gave up.

The battle lasted for as long as I cannot tell but really seemed long and I finally woke up.

While in the dream, I asked my friend to send me my Bible and rosary, unfortunately, it seemed like I was talking to myself she was asleep.

When I woke up, I was panting, it seemed like I had been fighting in real life and kind of I had ran for miles and miles.  It was past 3am.
I moved my hands very fast to find my bag in the dark, fished in the bag for my Rosary, cuddled it in my hands, onto my chest and then silently kissed the crucifix thanking God that I was alive.

I remembered this is the hour of Divine Mercy and as far as I was taught the hour when the devil and his agents are at work.

I held the crucifix tight and started reciting the sacred beaded ornament. I felt peace coming back to me with every prayer I said, each “Hail Mary” brought relief to my tired self, and I felt sweet and rejuvenated.

As I recited the rosary, I silently and peacefully slept away…

In the morning, I realized how much God loves and cares for me, and I made a resolution to keep my rosary closer to me than ever, because every time I have been attacked, it always redeemed me.

Hail Mary full of Grace, the lord is with you, blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb Jesus. Hail Mary mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.


When God drops a tear…

Come rain, Come sunshine

When God drops a tear

He opens the flood gates of heaven

He lets it rain, he lets it pour

The earth gets a downpour

The lands go wet

The proud city dwellers grumble

Yet the village humble ones celebrate

When God drops a tear

The driver complains

The pedestrian curses

Yet the farmer gives thanks

When God drops a tear

When God receives the complains

He closes one eye, opens another wide

He stops crying, and so does the rain

When God opens one eye wide

The city rejoices but later complains,

The farmer celebrates but after curses,

The pedestrian gets relief but then jeers,

When God opens one eye wide

What does  Humanity prefer?

God crying or closing one eye,

And open the other wide?

I also don’t know what to prefer.

Sisters of Death; What does God think about your Business?

NTV Kenya is currently airing an investigative piece called “Sisters of death.”

It is about women who make alcohol mixed with antiretrovirals (ARVs) to make ends meet.

The documentary features HIV positive women in Korogosho slums in Kenya, selling the drugs they get for treatment, to other women involved in a liquor making business.

They sell Seven tablests for as low as 250 she (about 3dollars). Every patient is entitled to 60 drugs per month. So when they sell all in a month, they earn about…

They get these drugs free and sell to ‘be able to buy food.”

Well, everything is detailed in the video up here.

Here are my concerns.

First, the women who sell the drugs register at another health Centre as if they have never known their status, they are then enrolled twice and that means they get double the dose.

The drugs they get from the second clinic could have been taken by another patient.

All this happens at a time the government in Kenya and many African countries are decrying the scarcity of ARVs in face of the increasing Patient numbers.

This means that if this one lady gets double treatment, there is another patient who may not survive for another minute because her pre supposed dose is sold by another who wants to earn something small.

Yes.  They claim that they sell the drugs to buy food, but I find this too inhuman. If you can get little food and someone cannot live because they need ARVs that are in turn sold to make liquor, what is the gain?

Second, what do the women who buy the drugs for mixing in their liquor to sell think?

One of them says that even God knows she is not doing something wrong because she does it to survive and fend for my family.

These are the most inconsiderate people I have ever met.

What does this mean to the person denied of a life because the drugs she would have taken are mixed to make alcohol? Isn’t it possible that this person could even be related to you?

What does it even mean for the person who is going to consume the liquour? And what does it mean to you who, making such a ‘dangerous substance’?

This does not only depict the selfishness of Humanity, it also shows how much the world is going wild or better still coming to the Parousia days.

It shows how we are going against the love of Neighbour that God requires of us. Just because you want to survive, should you deny your neighbour of their survival too?

God says in his holy word…

Ask and you will receive whatever you need, pray and I will hear from heaven, and I will heal your land,

He says ask and I will give the nations to you.

O lord, I ask for the nations, please come and heal mother Africa, heal your people and all our grievances.

That each passing day, we may be mindful of the needs of others.

My latest Addiction

Of late, I have been going through inner battles. They have been really tight and tiresome.

I agreed with a friend of mine who said, “all battles are breaking but none is as breaking as the one in the heart.”

I have had a rough time understanding what is going on within me. But I thank God for his love for me, he has never permitted me to separate myself from him, even this time he has been on my side.

There is a song that has become my addiction through this tormenting moment, I have literally listened to it through and through and I cannot regret, I know how much it consoles me.

It goes by the title; “Lwazi Lwange” loosely translated as “My rock”  sang by the ANAWIM Uganda, a catholic gospel group.

The Anawim, sing of God as a rock, how to cling on the Lord for help, that all help comes from him.

And for me, I unceasingly sing “God you are my rock, whoever stumbles against you falls,” in that way, I have had him protecting me through this time.


Gentle woman


Gentle Woman, quiet light

Morning star, so strong and bright

Gentle mother, Peaceful dove

Teach us wisdom, teach us Love.


Been listening to this song, Gentle woman, a song for mother Mary. I dont know how it came too my minds but for some reason, i kept singing it.

So i decided to share it with you.

It just made my evening, an evening with my Gentle mother…am blessed and I pray that you may also be blessed as you listen to it.


God’s purpose started with a prison sentence

Eddy Mary Mpagi, spent 18years in prison, for crime he never committed

After being convicted and sentenced to death in 1982 by the high court at Masaka, Eddie Mary Mpagi and Fred Masembe were taken to Luzira upper prison, to await their execution.

Mpagi had been in prison since 1981, he had been arrested together with his cousin Masembe, for allegedly murdering George William Wandyaka, who was later found to be alive.

“It was alleged that we robbed and stabbed him; so, at first I was arrested with my cousin. But that same night, they also brought in our parents, who were later released,” says Mpagi.

He claims it was a plot by people who had wrangles with their family to have them tortured.

In 1983 during President Obote’s regime they asked for the ‘prerogative of mercy’ (Pardon from the president), but got it not until he was overthrown.

“I knew things would not be easy but I still hoped that someday we would be set free since we were innocent,” says Mpagi.

However, in 1985, Masembe died in prison and Mpagi had to walk the rough journey alone. He then had no other option but to cling onto God for help.

Later, according to Mpagi, the local authorities established that Wandyaka (now deceased) who he had allegedly murdered was alive. They wrote to the Attorney General seeking pardon for the accused.

A group was sent to investigate more and finally confirmed that the duo had been wrongly charged. This, however, did not set them free; Attorney-Generals kept changing and when the judge handling their case died, the process stagnated. Mpagi stayed in Prison until July 2000 when President Museveni pardoned him.

Life in prison

Mpagi, a young Catholic man at the time he was arrested, stuck to his faith because he believed that his innocence would only be justified by God. Shortly before Masembe died, Mpagi says he got a vision from God, which made him stronger.

“God told me: ‘Fasten yourself and be strong for I am with you.’ When I asked Him when these things would be, He ordered me to keep my beard and hair until He had fulfilled his plan for me.” he says

And for 15 years, Mpagi never shaved neither his beard nor his hair and surprisingly not even the prison authorities complained about it.

While there, he started teaching fellow prisoners about God and also started a school to teach them how to read and write.

“I was not a teacher by profession, but at least I could teach them the basics of reading and writing, with the aim of helping them read the scripture,” says Mpagi.

In 1983, Mpagi received a Bible from Fr John Sweeny, a Mill Hill father who was doing prison ministry then. It is this Bible that became his best friend and he used it to start Bible study.

Mpagi became a religious leader, and also became responsible for marking the World Bible league examinations of the entire Luzira prison, helped by Rev Ssentumbwe of Church of Uganda.

He also wrote in the Leadership magazine forgiving all the people who had landed him in jail.

And after Prison

When he was finally pardoned, like many others, he did not know where to start. He had studied agriculture before being arrested but he was not ready to start practicing it.

Before he could even reconnect with his family members (who were still alive), he joined a group of Franciscan Prison Ministers in Kamwokya parish, who had been helpful while in prison. He looked for a better way to thank God and he finally made a decision to study catechism (teaching religion).

“I wanted to do many things, but I chose to go to Kiyinda Mityana and study catechism, just to thank God for fulfilling His plan for me.”

Mpagi now serves as a catechist, and also serves with the Franciscan Prison Ministry led by Sr. Antoinette, a white missionary sister.

They do regular prison visits to pray, encourage, sensitize and counsel prisoners.

He committed himself to prison ministry; he is now a strong advocate for the rights of prisoners and against the death penalty. He also recently joined the Missionaries of Custody, an organization sensitizing communities about crime prevention. Mpagi is currently working on a project to help children of prisoners study and live well.

“My children did not study; there was no one to help them. It hurts me [even] now, the reason I want to help other prisoners’ children, so that they don’t go through what mine went through.”