How I ended up rescuing a cow from a drainage trench!

I did not leave home yesterday evening expecting to rescue a cow. I was going about my evening walk when I came across a few people gathered by the side of the road. Naturally, I stopped to look and this in hindsight was my first mistake. 

There was a cow in the trench! Technically, it was a calf, but considering that I would eventually have to lift it with my bare hands, I think I am entitled to call it a cow. 

Before I get to how I became part of an emergency cow-rescue operation, I need to explain the trenches. Entebbe has some serious drainage trenches. The town is hilly in places and when it rains here, sometimes it pours, so these trenches are very useful. The only small problem is that many of these trenches are open and deep. Very, very deep. 

We have all seen the interesting assortment of things that trenches collect. Cars, Boda bodas, people, shoes, bottles, etc have all entered trenches. Sometimes you pass a car sitting at an angle inside one and you do not even ask questions but just look and continue with your day. 

Until yesterday evening, I had never seen a cow in a trench. 

If you have read my precious blogs about life in Entebbe you will know that we are very committed to urban livestock farming. We have lots of grass and so we graze our animals by the roadside. While grazing, this cow bambi ended up in a deep, narrow trench. The trench was narrow it prevented much manoeuvring and deep enough that there was absolutely no possibility of jumping out. 

The poor herdsman was trying everything. He tried encouraging it to walk forward hoping they would find a section of the trench shallow enough for it to climb out, but no such luck. Then he tried getting it to walk backwards but this is when we discovered that cows have difficulty walking backwards. He pushed, pulled, coaxed, but the cow looked at him with an expression of a cow that was already having a difficult evening and did not appreciate additional instructions. 

Eventually he managed to turn it around. Progress finally, except it was not. The calf just walked along the trench in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, its fellow cows were nearby grazing peacefully and completely unbothered. Priorities, I guess. 

By now, more people had stopped and once Ugandans gather around a problem, a committee forms immediately and suggestions began flying... bring wood. Put soil so it can climb. Make it walk this way. Turn it around. Find somewhere shallower. Everybody had a solution. Nobody had yet entered the trench but eventually, someone suggested the obvious - we lift it up. 

Excellent. We lift it up. But there was only one problem - who exactly is "we"? The herdsman could not lift the calf alone. It was heavy, frightened and has strong legs that can kick a person. 

I was standing nearby with other people, providing the very important service of observation when the herdsman looked at us... could we help? 

There are moment in life when you realise that standing too close to a situation has consequences. I thought I was just a curious bystander but now I was asked to rescue the cow. My first thought was, I have to TOUCH the cow. Second, the cow smells. Third, what if it kicks me? Fourth, how about the smell? But look at the poor poor thing.

The cow was exhausted you could see. It had been trapped for a while and it was stressed. At this point, I forgot about dignity, hygiene, smells and decided to help the cow. So we got into the trench, two at the rear end, one person at the front and me in the middle because I was small enough to snuggle under the cow. 

My goodness, cows are heavy, even the small ones. Also, a frightened cow does not understand that you are trying to save it. It does not know that it needs to remain still because we are trying to rescue it. No. It kicks. So now, we had to contend with several things at once... lift the cow high enough to clear the trench, prevent it from falling back in, avoid being kicked in the face, avoid dropping the cow beneath us, and maintain good grip on an animal that was not happy with what was going on. 

There was shouting, lifting, slipping, instructions from bystanders "higher", "lift that side", etc. Wonderful, please feel free to come demonstrate, I shouted back. Eventually with one enormous heave, we got the cow high enough and up it came, over the edge onto the road. Freedom!!!!

The other cows continued eating grass having contributed absolutely nothing, and me, I stood there smelling of cow on my hands, clothes, hair. Whatever plans I had for the evening well.... anyway, the cow was out. 

So, should you ever find yourself faced with a cow in a trench, I can now offer the following guidance based on my experience:

1. Cows cannot walk backwards. Do not build your rescue strategy around this possibility.
2. The other cows will not help. They will continue grazing so do not take it personally.
3. A roadside committee will always form proposing excellent ideas.
4. Be careful where you stand. Never stand too close to a problem unless you are prepared to become part of the solution.
5. The people shouting higher will not be holding cow.
6. Cows are heavier than they look.
7. The cow does not know you are rescuing it. Expect resistance.
8. Go home. 

I do not have a deep lesson or reflection in this blog today. Sometimes a cow falls into a trench and you stop to look and because you stood there just a little too long, you end up lifting the cow. From where my feet are, that was more than enough excitement for one evening. 

Something strange is happening to my body

I have been experiencing very weird things in my body lately. 

The other day, I was driving when suddenly the car seat became extremely hot. It felt like the seat was on fire. I thought I had switched on the seat warmer so I checked, and it was off. The seat kept getting hotter. I wondered whether something electrical had gone wrong, so I asked the person sitting in the passenger seat to touch my seat. It was not hot when they touched it. When I touched it too, it was normal. It was then that I realised that the car was not on fire. I was the one on fire. My entire body was burning from the inside. I could not get cool quick enough no matter how high I turned up the AC.

It happened again on Mt. Kilimanjaro a couple of weeks ago. The nights would get really really cold and when every body was freezing, layering up with jackets, socks, hats, gloves, etc, I was unbearably hot. In fact, I was shedding my layers one by one. It was such a weird feeling. 

Then there are moments when I get strangely cold and cannot be warmed from the outside. No matter how many layers I wear in the Entebbe blazing sun, nothing seems to be able to warm me because the cold is deep down inside me. It feels like my bones and blood are cold, possibly my soul is cold too.

The other strange thing happening, my dear friends, is the itch in my ears. Goodness! It is a deep itch inside the ear. Probably close to the semi circular canal that we learnt about in biology and it seems I require a specialised excavation equipment to go deep in my ear to scratch. I am constantly scratch my ears and sometimes looking for something thin enough to reach the exact spot but then I remember that putting random objects into one's eats is not good. 

As if that is not enough, there is the forgetting. I have looked for my glasses while wearing them. I will search high and low, check the table, my handbag, various rooms, asking who moved my glasses, only to touch my face and there they are on my face. 

I walk into rooms and forget why I am there. Granted, everybody does this occasionally but I will walk into a room with such purpose, or make a phone call confidently, and then nothing. I stand there and do not remember why I went to the room or made the phone call. 

The other day, I was telling a story, and had built up the context, the characters and I knew exactly where I was going with the story. Then... gone. The thought just left. I stopped mid sentence, not knowing what was going on. Everyone was looking at me, we all knew there was a point to the story, but it had gone. Brain fog!!

This one is hard to admit, but there are moments when I am really so irritable. Why are you chewing like that? Why are you breathing so loudly? Why have you put your cup there? Why is this person walking so slowly? Why are you asking me questions? Why is everybody suddenly so... everybody? The funniest part is sometimes I know I am being unreasonable while I am being unreasonable.

There are many other strange things happening, so I have been asking myself what exactly is going on?

My body is changing and I think this may be perimenopause. Yes, I said it. It surprises me how little we talk about it. Women talk about periods easily, but there is this other big change happening to our bodies especially us in our mid 40's and all we do is ask why the car seat is on fire or why moods flactuate. My body is changing, and actually that is ok.

I say it is ok because not only is it inevitable, but also I am beginning to realise that not everything about this change is a loss. Something else seems to be coming along with the change. I care less.... not about people because I think surprisingly care more deeply about people than before. I care less about nonsense.

My tolerance for unnecessary stress has become low. My desire to please everybody has reduced. I have less appetite for arguments that do not matter, relationships that disturb my peace, explaining myself repeatedly, asking for the same things over and over, or carrying other people's problems unreservedly.

I am not unhappy about this development. I am learning that peace is expensive, time is precious and energy should not be distributed like free samples at a supermarket. I am also becoming more compassionate to others and to myself, and more gentle too. 

I am learning to be more patient with myself. If I walk into a room and forget why I am there, I will stand there a while waiting for the reason to return or in the meantime, find something else to do. If I cannot remember where my glasses are, I will first check my fact. If I lose my train for thought, I know it will return. If I become irritated, I will remember that the person breathing loudly is just breathing. If the hot flashes come, I will remember Kilimanjaro in that while everyone was freezing cold and layering up, I was hot.

I ask that we extend kindness and patience to others - partners, friends, colleagues, relatives - who, like me, are going through this. Let's be more generous to those around us. Sometimes we are just as confused by what is happening inside our bodies as everyone else is by what they see on the outside, and that is when we need our circle to draw a little closer, hold on a little tighter, and give us a little more grace while we find our way through.

From where my increasingly hot, occasionally freezing, slightly itchy, somewhat forgetful, and considerably less tolerant feet are.

A short history of my brother told through childhood disasters

People, there are more conventional ways to write about my brother on his birthday. I could so easily write about the man he has become, the things he has accomplished, the nieces and nephew he has given me, the person he is...

..but I knew him before all that and unfortunately for him, I have evidence. My childhood memories of my brother Tony involve an unusual number of minor disasters like a broken TV, a broken jar of jam, a bleeding tongue, a bathtub baptism, a one very very questionable commercial transaction involving my property.

Let's start with the TV. One day, the TV got spoilt and we were asked who had done it. Tony's answer was immediate "All of us." I strongly disagreed and in my little voice I said, "not me, not me, when I came from school, I put my uniform on the bed and went to the kitchen." Even as a child, I understood the importance of establishing an alibi. Tony was having nothing of that. "All of us," he said again. To this day, I do not know who actually spoilt the TV. It was those black and white ones with a wood frame and aerials. I only remember that while I was busy separating myself from the accused, Tony had already decided that we were a collective. If one went down, apparently we all went down. 

As for the jar of jam... Hmm... We were stealing jam when the jar broke. This should have been the natural end of this theft operation but greed is such a powerful thing. We took the broken pieces of glass, hid behind a chair, and continued licking jam off the broken glass. I sliced my tongue right down the middle all the way to the tip of the tongue. Now, my brother had previously had stitches on his tongue a few months earlier (another story) and knew how painful they were. He prayed for me to be healed. He told God that he did not want his little sister to experience the pain he experienced. My tongue healed. There might be a sermon somewhere in the fact that God answered the prayer from thieves, but let us leave that theological matter alone. 

There there was the baptism. This one I only know because my mother told me. Apparently, Tony once baptised me in the bathtub. He immersed me in water with conviction. I have questions as to what denomination we were operating under, was there a sermon, did I consent? We may never know. I was baptised in the bathtub. 

One other one, last one, I promise, was the sweets. I wanted sweets. Tony, ever committed to solving problems and making sure I got what I asked for, found a way to get me some. He sold one of my toys and used the money to buy me sweets. Hmmm... when I think about it, this generosity becomes less generous under financial scrutiny. He had essentially converted one of my long-term assets - a toy, into a short-term consumable presented the proceeds back to me as an act of love. Technically, he bought me nothing. I bought the sweets myself and I did not know I had entered into an asset-disposal agreement. Still I got my sweets. His financial governance was weak but his intention was excellent.  

I guess this is why I love these stories because buried inside all the childhood chaos, Tony was already becoming himself. The boy who said "all of us" understood loyalty, and he is loyal to a fault. They boy who prayed over my bleeding tongue understood compassion. The boy in the bathtub who worried about my eternal salvation enough to baptise me himself had faith, although with slightly more spiritual authority then was officially granted to him. The boy who sold my toy understood that if his sister wanted sweets, somewhere, somehow, capital had to be raised. He sold my property to finance my happiness.

Years later, the disasters have become family stories even as the broken TV doesn't matter, the jam jar is long gone, I did not get stitches on my tongue, the baptism has held, and I do not miss the toy that was sacrificed to the sweets economy. But I remember Tony, which is the privilege of growing up with someone. You get to remember who they were before they became adults, before they become serious and all. 

When I look at the stories I realise that the person Tony became was already there, maybe not fully formed, but there nonetheless in flashes of loyalty, kindness, faith, generosity, protectiveness, resourcefulness. These 4 ridiculous stories explain him better than any list of adjectives

On his birthday, I do not want to give him a description of the man he is today, but a reminder that I remember the boy he was. I am glad that through all these years, it has still been ALL OF US. 

Happy Birthday Tony. 

The last 100 days of 2026: What will you do with them?

100 days!

As of today 23rd September, there are 100 days left in the year. I like the number 100 because it feels deliberate, it is long enough to matter, and short enough to make you pay attention. 

Remember January? Do you remember the optimism, the lists, the things we were going to start, stop, become, find, gain, read, save, learn? Some of us have done very well. For some of us, our New Year's resolutions are gathering dust. The plans made in January may have been abandoned by February, postponed to March, reconsidered in June and completely forgotten around August. There are people who did not make resolutions, and that is ok. For some of us the year went in directions we could never have planned for on Jan 1st. 

But here we are, 100 days from the end. While walking this morning, I thought to myself, there are still 100 days between now and the end of the year. There are 100 opportunities and still enough year to do something differently, to start something we keep postponing, to finish something we started, learn something, leave something, build something, repair something, forgive something, live a little differently.

100 days is not insignificant. Think about it... if you walk every day for 100 days, your body will know and feel different. If you read every day for 100 days, you will finish several books. If you call someone you love everyday, something in you may deepen. Save a little every day and you will have extra spending money for Christmas. Write every day for 100 days and by December, you will have pages that did not exist today. Pray, run, sleep earlier, drink more water. 

For the next 100 days, I am choosing gratitude. Every day, I will write down one thing I am grateful for. I will go old fashioned and use a notebook, not write on my phone. Every day I will write one thing that I am grateful for and by the end of the year, I will have 100 entries. 

I know that on some days it will be something exciting, while on other days it might just be that the sun came out, some body made me laugh, my knees did not hurt, I had a good cup of coffee, or I woke up.

There is so much happening around us and within us too. Life can become noisy with disappointment, uncertainty, grief, ambition, unfinished business, and things we cannot control. Gratitude does not make those things disappear, nor does it pretend everything is fine when it is not. Gratitude reminds us that even while life is difficult, there is still life. 

I am not giving myself 10 goals for these 100 days. I am choosing one small practice and giving it 100 days to see what it does to me. What would you do for these last 100 days? You could choose anything and it does not have to be impressive and nobody needs to applaud you for it. In face you do not even have to tell anyone. Just choose something that matters to you and give it the next 100 days. 

I also ask, if these were not just the last 100 days of the year, but the last 100 days you had, what would you do with them? Who would you spend them with? What would you stop postponing? Who would become unimportant? Where would you go? Who would you forgive? What would you say? What would finally begin?

Thankfully we are not counting down our last 100 days, but counting down the year and this as well is reason enough not to waste them. From where my feet are, 100 days is still a lot of life.