How to Describe Nature


I like to collect descriptions other people have of life. I keep them on a big spreadsheet that I’m constantly updating. I read a lot and I pay attention to how my fellow authors get their ideas across, how they create pictures of scenery from their words. I’m in awe of people like Peter Matthiessen with his nature descriptions and Margaret Meade with her emotion-invoking portraits of people.

Here’s my collection of nature. I’ve drawn many of them from the following authors:

  • Matthiessen, who I think is the quintessential writer on our environs
  • Margaret Meade–to her, people don’t exist outside of their habitat. I agree
  • Barry Lopez–a beautiful nature writer

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Data center

The you noisy man, quiet places or generally a quiet environment does not do well with your ways of keeping your mind cool. What do you do in the event that your mouth is itching badly? We know you are restless until you make terms with your mouth. So you have to make yourself okay, find a suitable space where  you will vent your verbal pillage. Like a bar? Or you can sit outside in the balcony.

But hey, your office has no a balcony and yet you can’t be in a bar either.

On the other hand, quiet places are so appealing to those that are averse to noisy places.


So the quiet man finds a cool environment where they can empty their minds and replenish with fresh thoughts. Can they be in a cafe?  Or can they sit out in the courtyard?

But hey, his office has no a cafe. He wont be out in the sun either.

If you are an employer seeking to meet the atmospheric needs of your nagging employees, it is worth worrying because noise and silence are by far indifferent. Having space for each individual is surely the ideal.

As a matter of fact, noise the noise makers make is a barrage of genres of conversations; You know, some noise may be constructive or non-constructive; official business, politics, family affairs, gossip, sports etc.

And you also know captivating they are-for those that discern the humour in there, however too often can be the most irritating for other people-without forgetting.

There are some offices in the world which will amaze you like the one am about to tell you.

Data center.

It’s a hot sunny morning, a fieriness of heat coupled with a hot cup of tea is the ambiance of the room. The windows are wide open and a cool air let in. At this time, the officials are arriving for their routine, and that also means all the seats are yet to be occupied. And while in this office the hapless officials are familiar with a displacement method of seating and ably will work while standing. One day can be the same as the other, or sometimes different.

Its funny. Isn’t it?

But one thing; if the honour of working from an elegant office is anything to go by, many like I who have shared the plight of the contrary, would not have outfitted ourselves in fancy ties and office suits heading to sit in that office.

I think apart from these men and women truly exhibiting such descent virtues of patience and resilience, the effervescence that beamed that office every day filled us with a jovial spirit that kept us sitting there day by day.

“Data center” was a small alienated office in the compound of the large hospital. In here accommodated a number of high profile officials together with other calibers of staffs.  Those that have not only sat together, but also shared every message that comes by talk.

An office where the blockades separated each ones working space, secured individual property, generally a semblance of privacy but  kept only eyes from seeing each other.

Ouch! The words, the whispers that leaped over from one desk to to another surely did not accede to any privacy. The conversations that went on on, were luring every ear that rests on every head. The  entertainers too made sure they spoke loud so that that their stories are heard.

There was no worry to care about where to take the noise. Everything that needed to be said found its space already in Data center. It did not matter to anyone to distinguish an appropriate story or not so long as we knew there had always to be a gentle noise that soothed our fatigue whenever we sat in there.

 No man, no woman, no young, no old. It was a story for everyone.

The beauty of Data centre was that the tone of the story and the story tellers turned every head and kept the ear standing at end. Interestingly, after those of whom the humour pleased utterly, it had consumed the attention of the very that dint like it.

At the end of the story, all found ourselves blended in its amusements.

There barely was a finger that pointed sharply at one another. Every day we were emotionally nourished with the humour of our daily grind. I think everyone would put up with the rumours, the gossip, and all the told anecdotes coming from our gallant entertainers.

Data center created those that made noise and those that were willing to accommodate it. Fitted all of us with a common feather that saw us flock together.

As we left Data center, albeit being long over due, there is a lot that did not come with us. I am pretty sure my colleagues will have beautiful nostalgia on recall of the moments we sat in the there.

The beautiful stories are no more.

Data center and The fun that we shared in there is one great brick that builds the rim of our foundation. (BUFHS)


Fulfilling and fetching more wisdom

Fulfilling and fetching more wisdom

The book I am currently moving around with is “healing of an angry heart, finding solace in a hostile world” by Cardwell C. Nackols and Bill Chickering. I bought it slightly above a US dollar; that is approximately 5000 Ugandan Shillings.

The title probably has that glaring yet a hint on anger. So you might suggest I have been selectively engaged in the issues of anger. Well, I just stumbled on a book among a collection of deserted high street merchandise.

It dint strike my eye either, but after combing through out, I finally had no alternative but opting for one with such a title.

When I read the prologue and the introduction of this book, it dawned on me of the choice that wasn’t a choice! To think that I picked this book without a choice, is fascinating.

I thought I could go back and perhaps make a meaningful purchase of this book! 5000/= wasn’t worth it.

I am talking like someone infers that I am now an anger expert of sort. Oh no! I am talking like someone should understand there was a lot of interesting wisdom about anger.

These men have not written about their personal experiences about anger, they have written down people’s experiences with anger and what they have done with it (anger) and them (experiences).

One thing I can affirm to any one is that; it is incredibly interesting to learn especially something about a very ordinary experience which you think is too obvious to understand.

Anger is everyone’s ordinary experience which we understand without thinking of anything more than it and that’s where the problem is.

We think there is little to think about anger (rage, resentment, revenge…) Thinking broadly about anger seems something meaningless when its components are obviously part and parcel of our daily life.

And this is the reason why it easy to accept atrocities of anger in our lives, families communities and country.

If we knew anger in its broad sense, we would know what to do with it. This books goes ahead to create an agreeably positive sense of anger. Constructing virtues out of anger.

How do we fulfill and how do we fetch more wisdom in life?

This is what we should do. And let it be my/your second resolution this year. Go to the streets and find a very expensive book at 5000, you may only buy it as cheap as that but never call it a cheap book.

We might fetch wisdom practice it and fulfill it.



where is my graduation song? To you Melisa


Its a pleasure to grace your unprecedented moment of success Melisa. I would love to witness your smile of joy and a family union for an enviable, noble cause.

Iam sincerely grateful for the beaming candle that you have to pinnacle at the peak of your struggle.

you remember your patience in the midst of your trials and tribulations, your gifts of social demeanor, the ever living and promiscuous smile, your tender serene of integrity, your little and silent stints of prayer.

May be, you could hardly have maneuvered the quagmire of your academic path without a bedrock of such integrity.

Today, in the dusking skies, when you shall pick a knife, you will cut not a cake, but through the dimensions of it till a share of every friend. The hands will applaud, the noise of joy will fill the air above your house.

A silent voice, though, will not speak. It will filter from the voices above to deep through your whole and echo a praise of success.

I watched when i sneaked my eye through your reading room.

I saw your eye engrossed on a white reflection under the lamp. There was like a hand fixed on a white paper scribbling with a terrible movement.

it wasn’t a hand fixed on a white paper. It was a piece of flesh tearing away from the hand, her fingers inflicted with tremor and rigidity of muscle.

and the blood vessels dilated to the surface of the skin, her body dwindled to the weight of a desperate scholar.

May be it would it would never have been for the beaming smiles on today’s faces if she had circumvented the pain.

Melly…as you ascend from the tunnel, let the light of the earth gratify your aspirations, mend the wounds of darkness and lead your way of destiny.

here is your graduation song





“Tantum Ergo sacramento…”


This is my holy day. This is the moment. It is my night at Gethsemane.

the night that I will sweat the blood of devotion

That the mighty hand of God will touch me. This is the hour that the lord shall postpone my agony

“Tantum Ergo sacramento…” I sing along.

Seated among the thirsty souls,yearning for the hand of God.
Attention. Of obedient, unwavering and of humble bodies.

The silence. Of peace, devotion. Awaiting bestowing of a blessing.

At the altar, my eyes will blink with hesitation.
While my mouth shall sing and praise in silence.

My ears are kind to noise, and the obstruction my eyes will see, not of earth. I have lost my humanity for a moment.
My body is naked and empty. Ready

To see the unseen God but not with the eyes. A feeling only it is. Now that I know he wants it to be this way.
That the obstinate eyes of greed and lust will not see the divine image of the most righteous God. Let him be just a feeling. I will not rumble.
Here I lay. I subject my knees to the coarseness of the ground. I will let my palms together. My eyes will shut until I see him.
Let me grapple with my feelings of doubt as sanity will trample over my uncertainties and then I know, I will see him.

When my eyes close, I see a mighty hand just about to pat my shoulder
He is right there, standing luminously above. He will grasp my hand to lead me through this tunnel with a glimmer of light at the end. I feel it and you know everyone else has felt the same.
Why does this man make me feel like this?
I am humbled. I have become so loyal and submissive. I am at my very best, honest to myself, and a stream of sympathy flows to avert my weaknesses. And in me, I am forgiven and forgiveness that strings to the next one, and to all of them that I have offended.
The inspiration in me beams like orchid blooms. I am jolly, feeling a different of me. This feeling so profound and unusual and good that I love be it forever…
I implore the heavenly father. The favours I need are too many; of fortune, of triumph, of prosperity, of forgiveness and love…asking one after the other.

If angels have brought for me, they are standing aloof but wishfully, awaiting my plea. The package they carry with them, I know I will take it away.
My eyes open. The priest, wearing a humeral veil over his shoulders and hands, will raise the Monstrance above his eyes. I see him with purity.
The monstrance is placed on the Altar, which is adorned by six blessed candles. He will bless the Sacrament with incense, and O Salutaris Hostia is sung.

O Salutaris” and “Tantum Ergo,” two of the greatest Eucharistic hymns, were both written by St. Thomas Aquinas)

The Sin of WRATH

Danny Gregory

For the first half of my career in advertising, I would often have irrational feelings of anger during a creative briefing. I would resent being given the assignment. Then I would be pissed off that I had to sit in a conference room with loads of other creative people while the strategists took us through the brief.

I simmered with impatience. I would ask critical, acerbic questions. I would strain against the deadline.

The monkey would tell me that the people briefing us were idiots, that their insights were lame or wrong, that I already knew more than they did about the subject, that it was wrong that we creatives had to compete for the assignment, the playing field wasn’t level, that the whole project was a waste of my time, blah blah and blah.

It was pretty crazy — and incomprehensible.

With time, I became sufficiently self-aware to identify…

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histology-endocrine glands

You remember the two major objectives;

  1. To know the histological shapes, organisational structure, contents, and various constituent cell structures of endocrine organs.
  2. To be able to relate the histology of these organs to function

Remember the thyroid gland and its anatomical relationship with the parathyroid, that this relationship is too depicted in histology.

Was it enough for you to appreciate the structure of the thyroid tissue? Or the pituitary gland or the pancreas? What was your primary objective?

If you are studying endocrinology, it is inevitable that you appreciate the microscopic appearances of the glands involved, however, note that this approach may not bring to you the actual message of histology.

The real purpose of histology is achieved first, when the interpretation of the images is guided the principles of microscopy and staining techniques, secondary when you attach interpretation to physiology.

It is necessary that you do histology when you are being intrigued by expectations. Know what you need to see, know how it might look like, and know what it does. It is important that you study an image with such expectations. This will enable you realize the interesting relevance of histology in your course.

If you have appreciated the structure of the pancreas, what meaning have you attached to it? Did you have any expectations and did you draw any conclusions? What impact has the structure of the pancreas made on your knowledge of the endocrine system?

The endocrine system is about secretion, how do you blend the concept of secretion in histology?

If appreciating just the microscopic structure of the endocrine organs was enough, then you missed out the real message of histology.

But am sure you should have had rich expectations stretching from just microscopic structure to the cellular composition and relationship to function.

I wish you the best.

My power point is available in the link hereinendocrine histology

Cathy’s smile

 Its not a theory that a smiling woman would make me feel how special I am


There is a glimmer of white dental lining that beams through two red plump lips.

The whispers to my ears, as though it’s only mine, a smooth, gentle hand creeps around my shoulder, I wait to hear. ” Mathew. Good bye. It was nice meeting you.” am not aware I am smiling to someone” She smiles again.

The day is deluged with an obsession of her images, the night am sure awaits that I slumber in thoughts of her charming smile. And I hope am not about to lay off this infatuation. It will still linger in my memory for the next few days.

I met her in bus en-route to Jinja. She was combing along the stretch of the bus when she paused in perplexity as she figured out where to sit. In my eyes, it was more likely that she would eventually zero in on my line of seat than being far away from the driver’s vicinity.  (Its normally a strategicseat-you can travel while enjoying a wide coverage of scenes). So I was just waiting that she makes up her mind to be my immediate neighbor. In fact, it was itching me to make a humbling gesture that I was dying if she dared sit away.

I would never imagine having such bad luck, envy and “everlasting” torment of seeing Cathy in amusement of another man for the next hours of our journey.

Cathy is a small girl, of 20 or thereabouts, of beautiful, enviable attributes, of sophisticated poise, of a charming and  truly feminine demeanor.  I subtly struggled to capture clearly her face though Igreat-smile (2) could not bring it out entirely since her forehead, the neck and the entire margin of the face was concealed in her hair-an array of beautiful, dark hair resting on the back of her shoulders. 

She did not smell a strange perfume though but generally she was smelling sexy.                                    I hate shaking hands but that day it was nothing to go by. I craved for a chance to get how soft and tender her palms would feel. I never had that chance. Nonetheless, from a point, at least my eyes could keep peeping at her long finger nails painted with a shining rouge color.

She did not say anything to me but I hoped may be later she would. I reached to my headsets, covered my ears and constructed a semblance of a peaceful silence.

Well, it wasn’t peaceful. I was only worried that for the first time I traveled, Jinja could be the shortest distance. So Am poised to break the silence. But how? I would wait if perhaps upon a hump of sorts, I could then rant something. Obviously at that time all the good questions will disappear and only such as ” Do you like humps?”  are the quickest to arrive on the mouth. Cathy would be silent not because I imagined she might be cunning but as long as I could figure out the right question to break the ice. It was high time that I was not responsible for the silence.

I was beginning to question my popular antics before I swung low my headsets. I wanted her to know that I have taken the headsets off my head.  This time I was earnest and since I trust that I am not this kind that will let go of such purported charming ladies,

Here I go.  “Hello, Am Mathew. Nice meeting you” blah, blah, blah….

Cathy’s reply was anchored by one of the most beautiful smiles I have ever seen. She spoke with such a seductive rhythm that would plunge me a daunting space to keep me worried about my next conversation. So i kept numb, but while in my silence I was grappling with a scary amount of words until i deemed them fit for such a charming girl.

I started my conversation and I never looked back. I touched Cathy,s hands I felt how I desired to feel, I touched her hair I felt how I wanted to feel, but one thing, I saw her smile and desired how I never felt. I desired to feel enough looking at Cathy’s smile. I am not yet gone over it.


The dreams I have not had in a long time come tonight. Its a beautiful dream when i see her there, seated right next to me.

Her smile does beyond the loving, graceful and humble face. I see from it coming a beautiful message that is filtering inside of me. She is giving me a beautiful reason to write a story today.

She smiles and for sure, a soft fond rhythm passes all over my body and I will feel her message that shes willing to get me charmed by her heart.

So spontaneous with barely a reason to feign it. Its so magical in my eyes that makes a real difference and deeply influences how I regard it. And I will denounce it. Its so real!

Her smile lies to me about her. Her flaws have been veiled while flaunting her innocence. I have been blinded by the glamour of a smiling face that I no longer recognize the errors of her words.

Its not a theory that a smiling woman would make me feel how special I am.

Uttermost praise I sing among all the unsung gifts of life.
It’s the only obsession that never grows old.
Her smile gets me think that her shrewd face will be concealed forever.

That gentle smile, makes me feel like you are holding my hand and saving me from rage.
Sailing me across, and wandering away from resentful and vengeful waves .

You steal from me the afflictions, the pain of my soul and cast them away.

You broach on my failure to smile, but grant me a conviction to -of which I make a humble offertory.

Your smile is a silent voice that tells me how worthy of you I am. How freely you open your world for me. To see what I desire.

That smiling face awakens me from bondage of despair, and gives me redemption that soothes the pain of my loneliness.

Upon your smile, your happiness rises at dawn above the distant mountains and sets on the other side when you wave to me a good bye.

When I see you smile, your sweet charm of vitality fills my whole and seals the crevices of my crumbled shell of yesterday.
I feel myself whole again and a peaceful aura defies my urges of silence and envy.

Whenever you smile, your soul is exalted in me. I see your eyes rejoicing. I see your teeth shinning more and more and your jaws spanning to a taste of times.

If you knew what your smile made me…


I hope you like a tale of a beautiful smile. Follow more stories on Deliverance