A poem dedicated to my fellow Kololo walkers, who have been like family through the long weeks of curfew and lock-down, and have made this strange time fun and full of friendship.

Kololo Walkers

Always that little thrill of meeting long-lost friends;

Though it is only hours since we last met,

At most a day.

Barking, wildly wagging hindquarters,

Dogs well express the cheerful anticipation –

Too every-day to mention, but no less notable for all that.

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Downstairs group, we’re towed uphill by our eager hounds,

Rendezvous on grass across from the ‘beach bar’,

The one where there is always a South Sudanese car.

Meeting place,

We pause, sharing out dog leads, scraps of news,

Facemasks on wrists, before we take the usual path.

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After Upper Kololo, green alley, slight slope, steep slope and the long down-hill,

Greeting all other strollers; the lady who walks her goats on leads,

Uncle Bob, with his square-rimmed glasses, jogger with a red Santa hat,

Dogs and their walkers,

Sprinters on the killer slope, taking a break for press-ups.

We stop, flushed, feel the breeze, pick a flower, admire the view.

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Ther’re birds; plantain eaters drop-bombing into tree tops with self-satisfied chuckles,

Silky-winged Hadadas violently poking lawns burst skywards in indignant screams

If we come too near.

Glossy starlings, hornbills, red barbets, cat-calls from grey parrots,

A Coucal glimpsed in the bushes in a little sloping wilderness, and like a blessing

Flashes of scarlet when a pair of toracos take flight within dark treetops.

.

And the trees! Shade and framed views of neighboring suburbs,

Glimmering iron roofs from slums and mighty Victoria sparkling behind housed hills.

Along our route nature flourishes,

Layers on layer; lawns, flowering roadside herbs, bougainvillea and ancient cycads,

Glossy mangos, Jackfruit, jacaranda, neem trees, flamboyant flame trees,

and towering over it all, elegant palms, giant ficus trees and majestic mvule.

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Night approaches softly, old Bella tugs down-hill, as eager to end as to start,

Outlines soften, gentle early-evening air, a dream-like atmosphere,

Tenderly, day’s sweetest moment passes.

We head home into the quiet of curfew night, with a golden glow on everything.

Good night, Kololo.

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Kampala, June 2020