Isaiah 43:3

I stand by a grave. Arms akimbo. A one Nalunkuuma rests here. Scribbled on her stone is a verse from the Bible. Isaiah 43:3.

Thou wast precious in my sight, thou hast been honourable.

Her life was a journey from the nose to the eye. Upward. Short. Purposeless. This we all know. Her candle burned from the 1970 August to the 1995 July.

A few days shy of her 25th birthday; a year to my birthday; her candle melted all its wax. And just like that, she bowed out.

A passport size photograph of her is embedded in the stone. In this vintage photo, she narrows her eyes and smiles a wry smile that exposes all her gums. She carries a crown of Obote’s hair on her head. A glittery necklace flows down her anterior chest and sits in her cleavage.

20-06-95. That is the watermark on the photo.

It is the Bible verse that hits me hard, more like fascinates me. Thou wast precious in my sight, thou hast been honourable. I suspect these are words supposedly said by God – to her.

She was precious. She was honourable. And her reward for that is the short life she lived. Because God wanted her on the other side.

In Kaihura-Nkuba’s voice, Really?

I heard from somewhere that when you love rose flowers, you do not pluck them, for they will dry and die. I heard that when you love Rose flowers, you just watch them grow. You water them. You breathe in their presence. You pose around them for photographs. You do not pluck them.

  • You do not pluck rose flowers if you love them, for they will dry and die.

I do not know whether God has or not heard such things. I know God’s ways are not man’s ways. But what sort of love is it, when he shortens the lives of those that are precious to him.

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Written by Daniel Kakuru (1)

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If we met.

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