#UCUDecides2018

As Uganda Christian University prepares to cast its vote on Friday 2nd, November, I take the initiative to present to you Candidates’ manifestos:

AMANYA MUGISHA BRUCE- MANIFESTO 2018-2019.

Foreword

I’m honored to present my manifesto 2018-2019, seeking the mandate of my fellow students to lead our university to a better tomorrow. My mission is to work for a university where all people: students, lecturers, administrators, support staff and other affiliations, have access to quality services and value their relationship with this Centre of Excellence in the Heart of Africa.

My Manifesto therefore is built on four pillars and an agenda we’ve termed ‘PASS’ that has been made out of the many students’ ideologies through consultations, dialogue and experience.

Those principles include;
P – POLICY REVIEW
A – ACCOUNTABILITY
S – SERVICE DELIVERY
S – SECURITY

My plan focusses on building and reviving the poorly performing sections of our University to improve efficiency without increasing the cost of administration.

Students must know their position to hold us accountable. My government will implement measures to ensure that students understand their rights and duties with meaningful and sound representation in complete liaison with the university administration.

I also know that the challenges of our moment are real. We are confronted with student based challenges like failure to raise tuition charges, decline in policy keeping, student oppression/abuse, drug addiction, and not forgetting a failed go towards external student leadership at UNSA.
I present to you a leadership strategy that is equipped with discipline, resilience and resolve to confront these challenges. We must move away from celebrating marginal achievements and pursue development initiatives that are bold, time bound and measurable. We must stop measuring progress by looking at where we have come from but to where we want to be and the progress we can make if we have a disciplined Christian leadership.

On the voting date, each one of us will walk into that voting booth, well aware of these challenges facing our University, we will be making a choice between the future that looks like the present and a future that offers results with resolve.

That future is in our hands. Now let’s go and create it!

God Bless You All.
Alpha and Omega.
AMANYA BRUCE MUGISHA ✊
BSCEE III
Presidential Candidate.

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One other Life

by Livia Koburungi

White ashened and still,
With swift motion setting the pace
Upon which am blinded by a notion to tear
Overwhelming as it occurs
Breaking the silence that remains
Uncracked like a running stream without an obstacle.
Movements are a phantom course
Pacing upon thy coordinates
Implanted by perfection
At ease in baby rest, wrapped in cotton
Assuming sleep yet staring not far off but,
At the green right on the otherside
Engraved in colors of art not less
Than that recovered from the breath
Imprisoned in a broken glass
My first life was sights and woods.

The riffle was pulled but I don’t remember as,
Often the ink bruised in the ashes, knowing
But without cause of rush, a thought
Its just a dark past on a quest,
For fear of being an open wound
Amidst the discussed turmoil in levels of sound
Afraid the cremation I willed would blind any further sorrow
For life a tray of only several chances that are always there
And for the time I lived grey was a sound plus
A song fierce, sad, tormenting but rather refreshing to the soul
Covered in thin layers of trust
And whenever ash was swept into air
The breeze became more than new hope in a dream
Because amnesia is a nice world to wake into!
And only takes simple to change the note
However today I woke up in a new baby crib.

Chances are we lost Rex my first pet during another funeral
But life came back not in any one theory we’ve studied
For I know that generation doesn’t bring new babies
We’ve all lived before in the BC ages we have no memory of
And here we relay and unfold into a new beginning everytime we die
I can be my own great, great, great grandmother
We never met but her old body was put to better use
She found a new body in me, an image slightly different from thre first
My other life saw a girl crying by the lake
It was my first tear that hurt and the sound in a dark tunnel she ran into
From there I learnt to drown till it hurts cause
Its the scars the world wants to see but I will keep wounds
To nurse and summon several who bruised without hurting cause
I was never told the trim of the words under hot coals
Are not a competitition in a scary story
But rather one other protait of art we past without viewing

Follow Livia & Raymond’s Blog on Twitter now for these and more

My heroe in bandages

by Livia Koburungi

I wasn’t looking for a role play
Or what my mother thought to be a finally answered prayer
She had no eye out for the stunt double you molded to play you before her
No, cause it came to no mention in your resume
And we skipped all the history which turned lights off
In the virtual world and we made acting our life, or was it only me?
The length of us, I didn’t think to enjoy
For having played victim enough,
And seen two but knew its only just another number.
You found me old but still hard buried in young fantasies
You belived it was a match, I knew we were good for media goals!
I’ve held on this far cause the differences became found on me
Where I’ve become your accomplice in a story I would have ended differently
Yes there are days I thought I smiled genuinely or cause you were happy
And the untold nights we couldn’t finish a good a movie
I became trust in the wrong lane, but you didn’t make it a bumpy street for me to change
I remember I stayed me and you did you, it wasn’t another scene!

I know the frame fit right today because,
The past couldn’t hold on forever,
When the television needed the antenna
Where the black and white newschannel took a chance,
And every now and then
The grey turned into a colored wall of stars and diamonds
A reflection from a treasure of your grandfather that now circled my finger.
And also a reminder to stare at the door for your return
Which routine was gold cause evenings glued you to sports
And the football field magic glared you with tension
That became my song of pride in pottery class
Where the hand craft bailed every other anniversary gift
On top of the house run, that went unnoticed
From which I’ve learnt of seldom fights at every corner
Not running a quarter to stir my place with,
The peace and quiet around the noise of our quarrels
I will always hug you out of it, its another fate we figured out.
I can say it already happened, when I end with the story…
RIP.

When i gave the world on a day and the breathing lasted 24hours
There on i coward ever trying to carry life, the end of my daughters and sons.
Around our flesh enough rattle bought me comfort
The blanket I thought was beyond in a maze maybe in heaven
And under it I still found every other nerve to smitten
Not that the mask went off, then
Cause you said its true and not one other error to run from in tears
Somehow you managed to deaden the horror of life on the run in my head
For the benefit of actually living under the roof you built
And the house i turned into a home.
The hours before I said, I do….. I didnt believe,
Heroes came in bandages fully customarised with scars I tattooed you!

Follow Livia & Raymond’s Blog on Twitter now for these and more

Poetry: The Skills I Trade

The mascara I cried down my cheeks
Became my art in the past and
Painted every little beauty you left in the dark
For once it was beautiful makeup,
Thats now become a hasty mark in the carpet
With wrinkles and detents along the cracks,
It pretty much noted where we left off
Knowing a better piece of art could take forever
But look better when the colors changed
Seemingly in a tear drop, from the several I lost
The paint still gets dry and the broken crayon doesn’t stop coloring.

When we colored the rainbow black and white
The past ruined my art.
But I caught seven colors in a globe alone
Where, the maze of finger prints on glass
And foot prints in the sand became one company
The canvas I colored on, outside the lines was my reflection
And time became my paint brush
For everyother second was vested in something varnished.
For art can speak for a flower picked up
Ready to wither, after five minutes of beauty in a vess
Cause the hard way is resetting when the picture becomes blurry
And moving on with another shade
Then the shadows became too many layers to paint
In the comfort of the walls I painted.

Poetry: Seven Days Of An African Woman!

Day one, all is well and calls her sweetheart

Day two, my love

Day three, love

Day four, woman!

Day five, mama junior

Day six, a glance at her and he takes his own way

Day seven, a slap on her face and the next thing you know,

beatings shoutings and bangs as though the titans were chasing in the heavens

Poor woman of Africa, tears streaming down her face

Everyday wishing for the end of times to engulf her,

Every now and then lamenting my children! Oh! My children

And at night fall he returns to resume the war,

Her face is sad again, poor woman of Africa!

Oh! Africa, if only the seven days of an african woman

Had an everlasting sweetheart and if only

The strong claimed protection not predominance

The veil wouldn’t be the cry in a civilized society

Oh, Africa away with ghosts, illusions, fairy tales and phantoms,

And create a fight for a togetherness

To the African woman, mother, and leader for forever harmony!

Fort Portal Propaganda: Omusaijja Tayangwa, A man is unrejectable!

Quite often in the country, Fort Portal is acknowledged for several of its beautiful landscapes and several other terms good and bad, but one custom thats left everyone ears about their culture is the unforgettable phrase “omusaijja tayangwa” meaning a man is unrejectable.

To many youth today it may come as a cliche but from the many world views, women activists can settle to criticize and blow up an argument which given the circumstance is virtual regardless of emotions. However its custom that a girl in Tooro wouldn’t and still cannot be married off without her consent, hence many a time during a traditional wedding the brides father says I cannot deny the man my daughter has brought home and the many in ear shot have transformed this into the phrase that sells of the binds of the custom as well the feminine virtual of the culture.

Just as Buganda is a very staunch and conserved culture in Uganda, Tooro is not just a beautiful city with an English name its culture is still a priority and at times confused due to a language barrier.

Its today culture resonates in an ongoing generation don’t let it slide English is a visitor native is us, every culture everywhere.