Francis B Xavier
So out of the blue, my maternal figure asked me what a CIVIL DISCOURSE means. My morning has just taken a hard left.
let’s bathe
Some people think me a writer. Some think me a musician. Some think me an artist altogether. Some think I’m creativity manifest in its most extreme sense. Some think me underrated…. blah blah blah most of these adjectives are blown out of proportion. For example;
I’m not a writer; I’m just a person who has discovered, imbued deep within him, a preternatural ability to arrange English (sometimes Luganda) words into meaningful sense—or nonsense really; depends on the day. A musician? Not really. Dabbler is more like it. Artist; oh please. Creative? Weeeellll…. Never given it much thought. But there’s one thing most people don’t know about me, or at least have never fully understood: I am someone’s son.
I happen to have a maternal figure who, perhaps unsurprisingly, means the world to me. In fact, she means so much to me that for this very same noble reason, I blocked her visibility to my content across all social media platforms. See, I value her oxygen consumption, a process that would be significantly compromised if she saw the mind she birthed for what it truly is.
The CIVIL DISCOURSE ™ is, for the most part, not material to be consumed by anyone I share deoxyribonucleic acid with, for despite my constant touting of the virtues of hardwork and vision-directed effort, I also want to inherit a few things here and there; something that would be next to impossible were the CIVIL DISCOURSE ™ and it’s inglorious siblings to come under the intense scrutiny of my relatives of whom my maternal figure happens to form a part. Whew; that was one long-a** statement.
So you can imagine my particular intestinal disquiet when my visit to my maternal figure this morning was greeted with this very random and seemingly innocuous question “What does CIVIL DISCOURSE mean?” Has she been lowkey following my absurd lexical exhibitions and monitoring my steadily waning levels of sanity?
Anyway this is a desperate cry to all my friends and acquaintances; there’s a very real possibility that my inheritance prospects are as bleak as my aspirations for marriage (another day for this), thusly, help me. HELP ME.
But I don’t know what should worry me the most: the possibility that discovery of my extracurricular activities by my living ancestors severely jeopardizes my path to easy access of wealth, or that easy access of wealth is all I see my relatives for, despite all their investment in my literacy acquisition, and thusly, compromise thereof (inheritance that is) is my greatest worry!!
You deserve a better son, mum.
