DO I REGRET?

.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       November 11- 1989

Mom stopped working a week before I was borne; mom was taken on a bicycle to deliver me. On the 11^th of November 1989 a young hero was borne, a new stainless steel brand original baby boy. This time not made in China, on this day I entered the world’s trouble, and it was time to share the pain that the world had to offer. When I reflect 22 years  back, this was definitely the genesis of trouble, pains, heat breaks and hopelessness in my life but was over all the genesis of God’s favor in my life, all that life would bring me in days, weeks, months, and years to come were opportunities for me to see God in a better angle he is, I was not to see this right away but He divinely preserved this for later in life, moments like now when I look back at each one of the and marvel at how it was his hand the saw me through.
It was somehow difficult for mom to stay at her grandfather’s house with two grandsons without a reasonable source of income, it was impossible for a young lady trained to work just to stay at home. In the course of finding work , she came across a young man who promised her heaven on earth, this was an opportunity for Patrick and little me to grow up in a real family with mom and a father figure to compensate the relationship of our biological father.it  also relieve mom from having to provide everything in the home. All the above was secondary, this is the main point. Mom was still young and beautiful, she couldn’t afford seating on her beauty yet there was a nice man promising to appreciate it. She survived living in the nights cold alone, but by the time I turned three she could not hold it any more. With few or no arrangements we were in another home. I was just three but really remember we how different my third home was from the second one. I still have clear memories of what was going on it’s now that my mind truly justifies it. It is this home that it all began, this is my story.
Wabitunda was my next home replacing Bweyewo not far away from each other; our new home was the third last in community, a rectangular small house with mad walls made by erecting poles in a desired shape. Rids are tired across the poles , then well prepared soil mixed with water is forced between the poles which takes like five days to dry. The roof is made up of dried spear grass which is paced on top and tired firmly to avoid sliding during stormy nights. The house a living room and a bed room, please don’t picture the living room and compare it to yours, it was a place where we would eat supper while sitting down on the floor so this eliminated the pressure of having a dining table.  It was a living room in the day and a bed room in the night for us the kids. Life was good here, so far mom had chosen the best husband for life and a good father for us kids, he had all that a young lady desired in a young man. We were the only children in the home so for those first days we got some love that a muganda man can give his step kids. Christmas was full of fun caused by the variety of food in front of us, Coca-Cola filled the evening of Christmas day, it was the day many of the Ugandan kids anticipate, it’s the day to eat the food you have missed for a year. We lived in a community where we were isolated from most of fun, we were in the middle of old couples that hadn’t any little kids around so Patrick and I had to figure out what games we played that only involved two people, it was only this little girl who was in the same situation we were in that except from her home just to give us company. Mom was afraid how we would behave in the middle of a thousand kids?
When mom promised him a child I saw his attitude, love and behavior drift from us kids to nowhere,  he started complaining how bored and lonely home was for him on days he didn’t work, well, I would watch him go but up to now I don’t know what work he was doing by then. I watched him leaving very early just to avoid seeing us in the morning, he would also come back late for just the same reason. He knew mom promised him a child so found no interest in us baggers and fatherless.  At the time Ruth was her first borne was delivered, Patrick and I then had a clear view of the matter, we definitely knew he hated us and didn’t like us home. I use the word home not in a serious and loving way, it was a home for his newly born baby mom and the step dad but not Patrick and I. the right word to use would be house because when it reached night it held us all. We had no option. As we study in school, a family consists of mom dad and children this wasn’t us, no family can be family without relationship. What many people consecrate on is the presence of a female and male figure, they don’t go ahead to ask and find out the relationship aspect of the so called family. He loved mom because she took care of his children, as you may know, children Buganda culture belong to the man, all that the mother does is takes care of them but derive no identity from the mom, good children belong to the father while bad, knotty, lazy and stupid ones are attributed to the mother. On the fourth child he stared having misunderstandings with mom. Am not trying to say they didn’t have misunderstanding before but this time ending up in almost a fight, as a man in the home he would try to correct us but it was always through spanks, mom could not watch him beat us that bad and keep silent, this was the beginning of a fight. We were not his kids, this we knew and he knew so hurting us physically or emotionally wasn’t a big deal for him. Mom knew we were her kids so defended us.
Misunderstandings never ended with them alone of course we were the trouble; there was one night out of the many that the three of us were chased of the house at night. We ended up going to the ashy kitchen for that night; mom could not sleep until we were snoring. Throughout the day he would not be there so that gave us time to really have fun and enjoy our childhood, we although became stubborn for mom that she some time told him to discipline us, that was of course tough, mom ended up being sorry for us but it was too late. 
i don'y regret it.

Well, it’s true that I have been hurt in my life. Quite a bit, But it’s also true that I have loved, and been loved and that carries a weight of its own, I’ll look back on my own life and see that the greatest piece of it is love. The problems of sadness, isolation those will somewhat be there, but just smaller silver, tiny pieces.  Sarah Dessen – This Lullby 

I don't spend too much time thinking of the bad things that happened in the past, i don't want the past to take most of my today. when i decided to look think of it, i force my brain to think of the good that happened and how the bad has turned into good.
I don’t regret it all because living with regrets is like driving a car that only moves in reverse.