The #Balls In My Hands

I lie in the arms of my lover, my feet playing with sand on the shores of Lake Victoria

He runs his hands through my hair. Pulls at it gently. But his eyes are set at the border, looking for invaders of Migingo

In his left hand is an engagement ring. Diamond. Glittering against the mild afternoon sun. But in his right hand is a canister firmly held, waiting for those walking-to-work

Beloved, I whisper

Make me your Pearl of Africa already

Tickle my feet until I sing Oh Uganda

Afande, he mutters

What is that strange song coming from Kanungu?

It’s #GoForward, Sir! He’s jumped the queue

Honourable has also dropped dead. The shilling has fled the treasury. The Karimojong are dying of hunger

Afande, I plead

Give me a moment alone with my man

I put a blindfold on the face of my beloved. Take off his hat. Untie his boots. I unzip his khaki pants and behold, the National Flag has long risen

Stop! He screams, yanking the blindfold off his face

Afande,

Am I still sole candidate?

I sit still, my hands frozen on the National Emblem. I watch it rise, and fall, shrink and deflate until it’s just a tiny wrinkled #Ball in my hands