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The good men still exist. Here is how you can find them

Today, let us talk about the real man. In case you have invested a lot of time, effort and investment in relationships but you have still failed to feel loved then this is your place. You probably have tried out different men but after all the disappointments and heartaches you have convinced yourself that all me are the same. My dear, read this carefully:. Yes there are no perfect men but good...

My kind of woman

I want one who has cried the most tears so I can wash them away, I want one with so many scars; they create a path to her heart I want one who has been beaten down so many times, I get to be their hand of hope I want one with ugly memories so that I can repaint her imagination I want  one with a fire so deep it lights up my world I want one with a smile so bright I get lost in it I want one with...

I am in love with Matilda

I saw her look for solace in her lonely self; she had been sobbing for a while. Her pillow flooding in tears; the rage in her beautiful teary eyes was unmatched. She spoke with a soft devastated tone and so evident were rills of anguish through the venae cavae of her soft loving heart. She was now a shadow of the strong revered Matilda we had all known two decades ago since our early schooldays...

All she needs is a protector, not a tormentor

She curls into one feeble pile and crawls excruciatingly onto the rugged floor. She helplessly inhales the heavy dusty air. The cold blood oozing from her frail body rills through the tattered doorway. “Help! Help! Help me please!”, she wails for rescue. Her chocking voice goes mute with grace. Her silence is loud. She is a woman, the mother of your children; a mother to this dear...

The summit that made me fearless

When I signed up to attend the Fearless summit 2018 in Kenya, little did I know that I was setting out to one of the best trips in my life. I remember telling one of my friends that I will be in the streets of Nairobi taking selfies as the summit was going on. This lack of enthusiasm was not down to a careless feeling of self importance, but as a Muslim, attending a Christian based summit was the...

PoetryBits: For God and My Country

For God and my country It’s written on pieces of paper and fabrics On countless coins and house bricks I wish we could sing it I wish we could dance and rejoice when we hear it Or we could run and hide when it shames us For God and my country The first foundation stones that define us Number one: “For the God that made us His love is the rope that binds us Our hopes, our plans, our prayers, We...

Tales4Good: All she needed was a mother

She wails uncontrollably, her innocent tears unceasingly flood her napkin. I can imagine the image of her heartless mother right through her wet eyes. Don’t the echoes of these cries disrupt her sweet sleep? How could she abandon such a beauty of a princess? I hastily grab a feeding bottle and give her a soft embrace. She suddenly goes mute, smiles and waves the bottle away without a single...

The tales of a first time traveller

Never before had I been an “international” tourist, let alone “uluslalarasi turist”. How I had earned this trip, is a story for another day. Today am telling you about the trip itself. The weeks leading up to  it had been busy and wearisome, what with trying to get a visa. Unlike the stress I would later learn to endure at the Ivory Tower during the pursuit of documents; this chase I had done...

When Your Baby Boy Goes Missing

The morning was not any different at our home, in the hills of Nateete. The place is a panorama of rolling hills, gentle valleys, a few drying water streams. The roads that meander round through the meadows punctuate the beautiful landscape dotted little houses or baby houses as Kibubu, our house-help’s kid calls them. Our mysterious aunt, Zubedah, had arrived the day before amidst...

It’s Just Not Yet Time, Help is coming

I can see the sad countenance tonnes of frustration on your beautiful face. I can read the script of shame scribbled all over you. I can see the pain in your eyeball. I feel the worry behind that beautiful smile. Your certainly are not where you want to be, where you ought to be. The curtains are slowly drawing down on you. Your life is moving in circles. You topped your class; the whole world...

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Contact the lead Editor, Kiberu Sharif by phone on +256 703 702 193 or by email address on sharif@talesfromkampala.com