dear Lokwanale,
my faith is not dead.
the blood shed on the ndazabazadde,
the torture tree at Namugongo,
the leaping flames from
burning reed that
rose
from human feet to head
as Mukaajaanga’s men speared and axed
and executed
all for defying the King
and believing in God.
they dragged them on their bare backs,
dear Lokwanale.
their flesh torn
their bones jutting
the open palms of the pyre
welcomed their sore bodies
soon the cackling sounds of burnt flesh reeked
not curses did Mukaajaanga’s men hear
but the silent rising crescendo of hymns.
yes, my faith is not dead.
for where they died in 1886
is this poem now sprout.
at Busaale, where Ssenkoole burnt Lwanga
under Ggirikiti tree
at the very spot where the pyre lay
and a few metres where their ashes are kept
was this poem written in my heart.
C) Salem Lorot/echoesofthehills 2017
~
Notes:
On Wednesday, 1st February 2016, I
visited both the Catholic Basilica at Busaale, Namugongo and the Anglican site
where the Uganda martyrs were executed up to 3rd June 1886. A total
of 25 martyrs were burnt en masse.
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