AuthorDon Herman

THE DAB OF A LIFETIME

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In one of those high school days when we had sneaked out, I sat quietly at the counter, my lofty legs dangling towards the neatly tiled floor of the night club. It was happy hour, in the midst of the frenzy, music blaring, the girls screaming and dancing wildly, the haves and have nots, both whining their bottoms,wiggling their waists plunging into their own sexiness; the overwhelmed men...

OPEN LETTER TO MY DEAR IN LAWS

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I greet you honourable elders in the name of our ancestors. I hope all is well. I received your letter rejecting my request to let me visit you officially seeking your daughter’s hand in marriage. I received it with great reservation and utter dismay for the lack of a better word. I find your reasons avarice, unjust and unfortunate. Quite rightly so, my family has nothing much to our name...

I am in love with Matilda

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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

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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...

Tales4Good: All she needed was a mother

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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...

It’s Just Not Yet Time, Help is coming

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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...

The Love Of A Mother Is Indeed Priceless

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It’s a bright Sunday morning and I am in church to worship my creator. I have no idea whats going on, I see kids fumbling to get small presents being given out at the alter. All the women have been requested to keep standing until they receive a gift from the random Sunday school kids. Then it dawns on me suddenly that it is actually mothers day. I get carried away with emotions when I see...

One of the best functions of its era

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And there we were, neatly clad in our traditional tunics and gomasi, embarking on our itinerary off to Kawempe. The longed day of merry-make , fun, flare, color and pomp had finally arrived. Our very own Sharif Kiberu was finally going to explore the un-chattered waters of marriage. A life step never for the faint-hearted. Shakes, like he likes to be called, was at it again; leaping over bounds...

The Plight Of an Urban Poor

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The Plight Of an Urban Poor Time check, it’s 4 am. Because of the morning drizzles, he hasn’t left to escape the wrath of the beast. The unforgiving mosquitoes, rain drops through the holes aloof, and the loud moans from the neighbor next door made the night go unnoticed. The land lady has unsuccessfully been hounding him for a week now. She has just arrived, on  the usual time so he...

A Phone Call To You Papa

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A lot has changed surely. Things have gone from bad to worse. Hallo..greetings.. Its been quite long since your demise. We still pray to the almighty to forgive your misdeeds and grant you paradise. A lot has changed surely. Things have gone from bad to worse. The seven of us are still alive. Mama even grew some gray hair. The baby you left in her womb is now a grown man! A perfect replica of...

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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