OUT OF THE CLOSET by Elijah B Wojji

Am out of the closet, “I support NRM”
This is a pause; a raid to my country, let’s not go too far or read too much into what I am writing. This is a word for my heart and I am not attacking anyone.
Is it wrong for me to love guns? To love the squeezing the trigger and take a life, a life of a person who does not believe in what I am saying!
Is it wrong for me to jump trenches full of rubbish and not give it a second thought, instead I think of the young boy on the corner street begging for a coin to make a living! For you see that’s his job.

Is it so hard for you to believe that my heart is revealing in love with a drowning government! A government drowning in its own vomit? A government whose very foundations are built on the blood of the youth! Is it hard for you to acknowledge me as a supporter and a believer of a Kampala city flowing with blood, mucus, garbage and unemployment?

Believe me my dear friend when I tell you that I go to bed happy, to bed happy every single time I hear that the police has raided a media house, for at least we won’t be spending our precious coin buying rubbish of a paper that is poisoning us to hate our own beloved government.

Forgive me if you must, for my use of a lesser diction for that’s what my government has taught me, not to read or aspire for more knowledge, but to be contented with the is and was English, this foreign language I am just learning.

I beg of you my superior English speaking friend, for you have pointing out my mistakes in English and my grammatical errors. But even you, YOU who can’t write your own mother tongue, and the people who speak it, you dammed them “LOCAL”! And yet you are a native to this foreign tongue. Forgive me if I come off as a “bragvanti” man, (just made up that word, my government allows it) am not on a high horse dashing out titles , but am seated on a pony just to look good and be equal to some of you people who have dammed my beloved government to the fires of sheol.

Woe unto me, I who love this country and a government with sick yellow colors, whose bloodshot eyes, drunk with greed, hate and lies, damn and demean the national flag!

Woe onto me, for I have fallen in love with a government that refuses me to learn my own culture, a language my forefathers spoke so proudly of!

Tears stream down my face, my heart ponders like a stone rolling off a cliff of hatred, a hatred for my own government, a government that promised a heaven on Earth but only gave me the world, a world full of injustices done to the poor and the widows, corruption so rampart that replaced the city mice, murders that are like malaria killing everyone and becoming so normal, but mostly a world of Peace

Make atonement for yourself, for judging my precious government, you my dear friend. You have become a stranger to us. A disgusting, vile stranger you have become. Sanctify yourself and pledge fidelity, kiss my hand, for I hold the golden scepter! Only then will you and I be able to uproot this scotching vice that has been rooted deep into our beloved government. Only then can we point fingers and be the judge of our own government.

Author: Open Mic

Open Mic Uganda is a company that presents people with a platform that promotes poetry, spoken word and related art forms. It encourages the enhancement of poetry as a recognized art form that can be used as a tool for education, communication and entertainment.