Don’t Die on The Inside

You have spent the last few months trying to write and failing miserably.
Laziness is a powerful weapon.

It messes with your creativity long enough to know that you caught the disease with no cure called writer’s block.
Then before you know it, your smart phone runs out of space, and you remove the blogging app to create room for videos of the parliament’s fight club.

Your computer catches slowness syndrome and you convince yourself you suck at writing anyway (not in a sad way but in a life-is-teaching-me-something way).

Until you go for a run.

It was supposed to just help you feel less guilty about your junk consumption but while you lie panting on the ground, you remember this is the most alive you have felt in a while.
You run to your phone to write #somethingabouthealthyliving on Facebook and realize you really shouldn’t be making any kind of commitments to this exercising thing.
But you want to write, you re-download the app and do those things of resetting password because you are determined to write something today and that’s all that matters .
It’s also a new month and some thing about new things is supposed to be inspiring.
You feel inspired.

Enough to say, the writing struggle is real.
But whatever you do, don’t die on the inside.

Continue reading


Of Storytelling & The Future

DGnTUpPU0AAA-Jp#UgBlogWeek is always a welcome opportunity for me to psyche myself into thinking I can write consistently everyday for an entire week. Today is day three & this is my first post but who is counting?

This time we are envisioning the future of storytelling. We are already in the future if you ask me because I almost fell in love based on emojis. Before you judge me, I saw a tweet the other day about BBC having an emoji translator, so first be humble.
According to google average human being with access to the internet spends about 5.6 hours a day on their phone.
While book stores are still in business most are struggling because  we are the generation that prefers the sight of a swipe on our phones to the sound of paper turning.

We would rather have our discussions on topical issues in whatsapp groups, brainstorm ideas on slack and open links on Facebook than sit in a book club. The book club community in Kampala is unknown to most. It presents both a problem and an opportunity.
A problem because Uganda is a country with the youngest population t(at least according to a fancy report by World Population Review on google) and if that population doesn’t read, we are in trouble.

We may not have a country to grow old with if that happens. It’s an opportunity because, there are numerous platforms from which we can tell our stories. There is a joke among twitter users twitter users that, the revolution will start on twitter.
I don’t go the stall to buy newspapers because I know that when I open twitter in the morning, all the news making headlines will have been summarized for me, maybe in a thread or a link while facebook  will  have caught me up on all the world’s problems in an attempt to manipulate me  into “typing Amen”

When I am not in time for my favorite South African soap, Scandal, because  Kampala traffic is having a worse day than usual I just catch up on YouTube.

I can miss a concert and have enough information about it to write a review and blogging has made all of us who want writers.
The way we tell our stories has evolved, the platforms are endless and this is the part where convey our gratitude to the inventors of internet and their cousins who made smart phones.

It  presents us with an extra ordinary opportunity to reduce books into blogs of 500 words and newspaper articles into 140 characters so that our minimal attention span can cope.

We have seen hashtags backed by proper execution create successful campaigns (Ask any #savesomeone )  and overnight stars being born because their dance video went viral.
So while we mourn the death of reading of white pages with black ink,  & while book clubs are tight knit circles we also have a lot of power.

To shape the stories the 78% young people in Uganda consume. I don’t know if Mills & Boon, Sydney Sheldon,  Daniel Steele,  John Grisham, JK Rowling are still teenage favorites,  but I know that the 1st thing my 17 year old sister asks for whenever I pick her from school is her smart phone (which by the way is better than mine).

What she reads, watches or talks about is up to everyone who considers themselves a story teller. Flood this place with Ugandan stories, pictures, videos nebirala and I can guarantee, if she spends 6 hours every day staring at that stuff the entire month she is on holiday,  she will start to think it’s cool to wear an outfit by a Ugandan fashion designer, attend Bayimba Festival instead of some pop star’s  concert in Hollywood or just read a Ugandan blog in instead of an article advising her on how to keep up with the Kardashians.

We are already in the future, consider yourself invited to define what it should look like . The Writivism Festival is a good place to start. ( This is not an Ad😀)


Drinking the Nile.

My relationship with water except the one I drink and use in the bathroom was no- existent until yesterday when it turned abusive, then exhilarating then almost romantic.

A combination of work, an opportunity to be interviewed by CNN, recklessness and the wrong friends, had me rafting on River Nile.   I have always wanted to try it. Wearing the helmet and life jacket felt like preparing for an epic battle. I couldn’t wait to have a picture taken in my rafting gear.

It was all fun and games until   I fell in the water for the first time for a training session on what to do in case the boat flips in the middle of the rapids. I decided in that moment between breathlessness and yelling at me not to panic, that I had drunk enough River Nile for the rest of my life.

I wanted out. There were 8 of us on the  team and I was ready to be labelled, ‘chicken’ “quitter” and every other name that comes with giving up, what I was not ready for was dying in the name of the Nile. I was so scared I could swear I felt my troubled heart shaking. Pep talk was fully launched by the rest of the group.

“Just focus on your breathing”,said Daudi as he practiced with me.

“ DNA,we are all scared I promise, but we got you. We can’t let anything happen to you.” implored the Kreativ Adikt

“Sunshine you will be so glad you did it after,” encouraged adrenaline junkie Joanne

“It’s going to be fine, you got this”, Bob said.

“ Fionah, listen ,nothing is going to happen, you will actually have a good time, ” Joel Jjemba , another very reckless soul voiced.

“This river is 1000% safe. It is the safest in the world.  There are no crocodiles, There will be kayakers at the end of every rapid to get you in case you end up being a swimmer. The safety boat will go ahead of us and you are wearing a life jacket just lie on your back, breathe and someone will get you, stated the comically  accented instructor, Big J.

It went on for a while and my answer to everything was,

“No I will not be partaking in this cup of crazy, thank you. I am out of will. Take me back to the shore. See you later. I just graduated.  I am too young to die.”

I thought I had convinced them to let me go when I was asked to leave the boat and join the kayaker, except I did not want to get off the boat into the water. I managed by the power of an unexpected push from Big J. The team continued their training as I enjoyed my kayak ride to what I thought was the shore. I relaxed, closed my eyes and started a conversation with Sula the kayaker.

I have never experienced so much treachery in my life than when I realized that Sula was taking me back to the boat not the shore.  My heart hurt. It’s not like I could swim my way back to the shore. I could hear the rapids or what we named, “the sound of recklessness”. The only shot I had at surviving the Nile was getting in the boat, holding my oar, putting my game face on, and hoping that God doesn’t punish us for the stupidity we had engaged in, despite missing the training.

We stayed on top of the first rapid for a few minutes as we waited for the filming crew to set up. It gave me an opportunity to summon whatever brevity I had left but it helped to have no choice.

We got our signal to go and down the rapid we went. Big J kept yelling things like, “Paddle forward, harder, get down….”. I have never followed instructions so dutifully in my life.

The first one was a 3 meter waterfall named “overtime”. I was staring at it’s beauty, floating at the bottom, and whispering a “thank you for not swallowing me”. I was feeling things too. A little thrill. A little fulfillment.  A desire to worship God in the beauty of His creation. A need to break into a victory dance among other things.   We went through two other rapids. One named “retrospect” and the other whose name I have forgotten. Which you can blame on the amnesia caused by the events of the last rapid- Itanda it is named.

The short story is it was  the highest or the fastest I don’t know. These rapids are measured in numbers. 6 is the toughest of them all. Nobody rafts on it unless they have the training and have signed in what Big J called, “The Black Book”.

Itanda was a 5. Big J did not tell us that until after. Prior to that, someone asked if the boat was going to flip so we can have the full experience.I hoped not but Big J had a mischievous look on his face

Also unlike the first 3 rapids we rafted on, we got a chance to see Itanda beforehand. All I saw was whiteness. All the fear at the beginning came back to me, but it was go big or go home time. I had come too far. Nothing was going to get in my way. We double checked for the tightness of the helmets and life jackets, waited for our signal and set off.

I did not raft on this one. The last thing I remember is holding on to the rope of the boat, realizing I am out of the boat and letting it go. I was not going to fight the Nile.

Remember those instructions? The only ones I remembered were, “relax, lie on your back, breathe, and don’t die.” I floated, disappeared into the waves, came back up and floated some more until I got to the bottom of the rapid.  This all happened in the shortest quantity of time. A kayaker saw me or I him and I found my way to the boat. Out of the 8 of us, four stayed in the boat when it flipped or did not flip. Control freaks I shall call them.

During my rapid dance with the waves, away from the safety of the boat, I was not scared anymore. I gave up control. The powerlessness of that moment was liberating. I can’t explain it in anymore words than these, except dare you to try it at least once.

What we were told by the people of Raft Uganda is, only a handful of Ugandans participate in these activities on River Nile. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t even know they exist but now that you do, go either with us on the next #koikoiug trip or with your other reckless friends. Lose some control and drink some of that Nile. After all we are the source. Let’s tell these Ugandan stories.

Graduation- The Speech

This week has been  one of putting this off.
I thought of all the things I have written in my life,  writing about my graduation would be the easiest because I have written it so many times over the years . 

There is a long draft in it’s honor, that has gone through serious refinement. I am in shock it has not made the cut, but I have also  been an adult long enough to know that nothing ever goes according to plan. 

Today being a week later, let me write about the day that has been 20 years coming and  move on with my life.

The day was 7th July 2017.

A lot of rain. A lot of traffic. A lot of hunger. 

A lot of prayers.

A lot of tears and a lot of waking up early after sleeping late.

After nearly two decades and several attempts to drop out some more successful than others, mother dearest got her moment. 

The length of said moment  was the duration it took for my dean and his fancy accent to read my name and for me to walk a few meters on a red carpet turned pink from the down pour. And that was it, all my blood, sweat and plasma and throwing the phrase “law student” around like it pays bills came down to a name call and walk.

I had made an agreement with the sun, to mobilize all her sky friends to stop and give me a standing ovation when they read my name, but she bailed and sent the treacherous rain. The earth was supposed to rise a dramatically racing dust that in my language they call; “akairiringo” but none of those things happened.

I went through the same routine that the 1136 others, on that graduation ground did and the millions that have come before us. Which is something similar to this;

  • Waking up so early
  • Having heavy breakfast because graduation ceremonies are long and hunger giving.
  • Dressing up.
  • Getting side eye from mother about the length of the dress.
  • Praying.
  • Getting into the car.
  • Having heart felt conversations on the way to school .
  • Arriving at school.
  • Learning on that the shoes you bought were not made for walking any distance.
  • Taking the pain from the heels like a champ because slaying must cost something.
  • Finding your friends 
  • Taking a lot of pictures.
  • Paying zero attention to the ceremony until minutes before they read your name or until your phone blacks out.

Not as glorious as I envisioned except that the joy of graduation is not in the ceremony. 

It is difficult to be a graduate in this country because the ratio of jobs to graduates is about 40000:8000 and school does very little to equip us with the shock absorbents to deal with that little fact. It is even more difficult if your entire clan is trusting that your  academic transcript shall be their key to the kingdom of wealth.

So what is graduation about?

Why did I buy an  expensive ‘inappropriate’-according to mother dress,  painful shoes and leave the warmth of  my bed into the rain to attend this ceremony?


Gratitude that’s why?

That I learnt  how to read and write and how to use a computer and the internet and hashtags so I can participate in #klarestaurantweek.

That it put me in  rooms  with multiple strangers and we bonded over coursework and nicknaming teachers and brokeness and abrupt tests and annoying lecturers and bad school food and Jesus. 

That those strangers are now the family that I chose. 

Boom 🔥

That I was caged  for more than  two decades of my life which means I am  qualified to rant about “adulting”.

That mother dearest is proud of me and herself because after working herself to a breaking point, she gets bragging rights among her peers that she produced a lawyer. (That means everything in my village of Kanywankoko).  

I watched a video of Rihanna giving a speech at Harvard where she said  something along the lines of what  any person really needs  is a chance at life.

And I am grateful that education is  my chance at life.  The sun may not have stopped  for me on 7th July but hearing my name being read in Dean’s fancy accent and my mother’s accompanying ululation  means I got my chance. My shot at life.  

To learn.

 To unlearn.

To fill my head with cases and laws for which I am about to find out the purpose 

 To grow.

To make mistakes. 

To learn from them and make others.

And somewhere between universities to find myself and my voice and this blog.  

I know education is not about to hand me the world’s treasures and the  clan may have to cut pressure on the trust they have in my rather impressive transcript, but it is a gift I was lucky to receive. 

It may not be the key to success but that key opens a few doors and those doors lead to other doors. And for that I am grateful. (Cue Sandra Suubi’s Nsiimye)  

Let’s see what “the real world “, like its fondly known has got. 

Congratulations to me. 






The Story of Atim 

Graduation is tomorrow.

If I had any doubts about it, mother’s arrival today confirmed it. 

Tomorrow adorned in a gown covering a dress I suffered to find, in the company of people who love me, I will raise up earlier than usual and go sit in a tent for a ceremony that just involves reading my name. 

I hope the sun stops for me. 

I had a brilliant idea of sharing my story of law school.

Then it occurred to me that sharing my friends’ stories is an even more brilliant idea.

I asked, many agreed, few proceeded to write and even fewer were chosen.

So for the past few weeks leading up to 7th July, I have been sharing their stories.

Why their stories?

The idea was to capture the journey of a few of us in law school and publish it on my blog.

It was inspired by the conversations I had throughout our last semester, which for some reason felt very weird

A lot of my friends  did not consider it  an achievement to have finished this chapter of their lives  especially  because  of the horror stories we have had over the years about  the bar course, that is if you even pass the pre-entry exam to get in.

I wanted to change that, maybe just to have company in the “excitement lane” or to have content for my blog. The plan was to challenge them to count their blessings and what better way than writing about the journey, the milestones, low moments, lessons and everything in between.

This is Atim’s story. It’s the last of them. I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I did sharing them. 

Meet Atim Esther Mercy Hadassah. The Girl friend in God. Gangsta in the gospel. Head of the naturista cult. Fashion designer in another life. Photographer in another one. Chief Planner. Creative Director. Always ready for a picture. My school person. Cell Leader. Queen of the thrift market. Slayer. Drama Queen’s side kick. Let’s me judge her.

Today my piece will appear in THE Komusana’s blog. Mama, I made it!. I made it!.
Hello Komusana’s people. 

My name is Atim Esther Mercy. If you don’t know me or do not follow my blog, then you haven’t heard the good news yet. Let me break it to you: “Ladies and gentlemen, brothers and sisters, children of the most High God (pronounced GHAAD) this girl is graduating from law school tomorrow. Can someone join me in ululation!” Thank you.Thank you. 

So her royal highness Komusana asked me to tell my law school story ages ago (covers face). 

I thought that all I needed to do was grab my phone, jog my memory and write away. Well, we had a plot twist…it was a flop. I didn’t know what to write about and how exactly to write it, but thankfully, now I do, and that’s what matters. No? So, stick around here and read one girl child’s story to empowerment and emancipation! Hahaha. I’m kidding. I meant to say stick around here and read my law school story.

Law school for me  is the closest I’ve had to a story literally unfolding before my eyes. I’ve watched a story begin, take shape, and begin to Unfold. I’m excited about telling my story and I decided to be a celebrity about this and actually do a question and answer kind of thing instead of making it one llloonnggg story. Today, you are my water hyacinth. Get ready to be circumnavigated. Let’s roll!

Ucu was my first and only choice. I did not apply to join any other university. Yes, I belong to the 1% Ugandan students (my own statistics) who don’t think MUK is the only place to be in.
How did I end up there? I somehow got to know about it, and liked everything I got to learn about it. So I chose it, applied, sat for the pre-entry exam and passed.  

Hehehe. If I were answering this question orally, this would be the part where I clap my hands, throw them onto my head and say “Who sent me to look for this kind of trouble! Was law the only course I could think of doing!”  Lol. That’s how my first day in a law class was, and this continued for pretty much the entire first semester of my first year. It was just one rollercoaster of confusion! I learnt close to nothing, and forgot almost everything. I didn’t understand nothing and I was pretty nonchalant about it.
First of all, for my very first lecture, I thought I was in Stream A instead of B, so I missed all B’s lectures for that day, then I didn’t want to go through the whole process of heading to stream B, getting a new timetable, meeting other new people, etc. So I absconded from class and went back like on Friday. Lol. 

Yyyeessss!. Yes! I was very excited. This was because I really wanted to do law, it was my first choice course and I chose to do it without anybody telling me whether I should or shouldn’t do it. So being in law school was one of my dreams come true, so yeah, that was exciting. 

Well, I’m not going to lie that it was just a never ending cycle of excitement, neither am I going to say I’m not excited about law and being a lawyer anymore. The thing is, just like everything else beautiful in life, the excitement comes with a BANG, until you get the hang of it, chill around long enough to experience the hurdles that come with it, then the excitement starts to wear down, and then there are moments that remind you of why you are actually there, moments that give you reason to be happy that you chose to be where you are. So I had my moments…moments of difficult course units, moments of complex exams, moments of too much work on my plate, moments of failure even when I put in my very best foot forward, moments of uncertainty of the future career-wise, etc. I had those moments, and they were not exciting. But when the moment is gone, and the happy ones are back, I’m excited and happy that I’m in law school, and that one-day I’ll be a lawyer.

My absolute highest will be 7th July when I will be graduating and also September this year, when I’ll be joining the Law Development Center for the bar course (by God’s grace). For now, that will be academic achievement to me. However, I’ve had a few highs, for example when I found Course units that were not as difficult as others, those semesters when results came back and I had over and above the marks I had wanted to have. Those were my highs. 
Lowest, was my first year, first semester when I hands down FAILED a course unit. It was the first time I was experiencing something I would acknowledge to be academic failure or even pretty much failure that really meant something significant, so it stung me too bad! Boy! the lessons this one failure taught me!.

Wow! This should have been a topic for an individual blog post. Haha.
Anyway, yes, it has. What is an experience if it doesn’t come jam packed with lessons?! Here are some of the lessons I’ve learned:
1. Don’t forget to live. Life doesn’t start and end with the law or being a lawyer. Before you are a lawyer, you are a person. Do people things. 
2. Run your own race. I can’t emphasize this enough. In law school, it’s easy to be taken up by the academic picture painted by some people that you may be tempted to run a race you don’t even know how to start, another comes crashing, because crashing always happens.
3. Believe in your self. This is my biggest lesson!. God knows I got through some very tough course units by believing I can do them and putting my beliefs to work. 
4. Girl, please sit down and read your books. Yes, you are smart and intelligent but you know life would be much easier if you just read!. 
5. Mind over matter. This phrase came ALIVE throughout my law school journey.
6. Some things are too overrated. School is one of them.

Another individual blog post we have here. Hahah. I actually did a blog post about law school gratitude on my blog, so I’m just going to copy and paste what I’d written there. I’m grateful:
For the life lessons learned, both the easy and hard way. 
For the failures and set backs that came with a greater measure of growth.
For the strangers that turned to friends and now sisters/squad.

Of all the food we could have eaten on her birthday. This is what she had us do.

For the course units that made law school easier, normal and fun (Hello Law and Christian Political Thought, Environmental Law, Clinical Legal Education, etc. I owe you).

For even the course units that convinced me that law school should be added to the crime of torture (Hello Equity and Trusts, Jurisprudence 1, etc). Boy! did these course units teach me total faith in God, hardwork, dedication and resilience.
For the unexpected twists and turns I encountered through out this journey. The negative gave me lessons, the positive gave me memories to cherish forever. 
For all the non academic activities I indulged in. Thank you for keeping me sane and free from depression. This is where I say Hello Komusana thank you for being my friend who always has plot. 
For very many other things I am too tired to remember.

Regrets? Absolutely not! Would I have done anything differently? Yes. Academically, I would have mooted right from  my first year. I mooted just once in fourth year, and this was because I was doing an elective where mooting was compulsory. After that first experience, I wished I had been doing this right from the start. It was 20 minutes of feeling and thinking like a lawyer in practice and it was one of my greatest feelings, second to the feeling I got after conducting my first cross examination exercise that we did for the same course unit. I think I should summarise it by saying “I should have been more intentional about making my experience of the course more practical than theoretical by being involved in whatever could make me achieve that.”.
For life in general, I would have lived it up alot more!. I only started to really live it up and enjoy myself in fourth year, which made me realise how much living it up I’d missed when I was so engrossed in whatever I was engrossed in.

Yes. I am meant to be a lawyer. I know it. I feel it. I want it. I am meant to be a lawyer. 

Dear child, 
1. Read hard. 
2. Be involved. 
3. Live it up!

Yyaasss. Generally, my after school plan for probably the next five years or so is basically career oriented. I pray it’s God’s plan for me too. 
More specifically, I want to accomplish three things for now. Which are:
1. Get into Law Development Center
2. Get a masters degree.
3. Start my career. 
Huh! The questions are done already. I was enjoying my few minutes of fame. Anyway, that’s my story. I’ve enjoyed writing this, I hope you will enjoy reading it. 
Have a great day.

This picture, I just love, so why not?

The Story of Achola.

Graduation is looming.

Mother’s dress is picked out and my dresses are hanging, somewhere in my closet waiting for me to pick them out and slay.

I had a brilliant idea of sharing my story of law school.

Then it occurred to me that sharing my friends’ stories is an even more brilliant idea.

I asked, many agreed, few proceeded to write and even fewer were chosen.

So for the past and  next one day leading up to 7th July, I have been and will be sharing their stories.

Why their stories?

The idea was to capture the journey of a few of us in law school and publish it on my blog.

It was inspired by the conversations I had throughout our last semester, which for some reason felt very weird

A lot of my friends  did not consider it  an achievement to have finished this chapter of their lives  especially  because  of the horror stories we have had over the years about  the bar course, that is if you even pass the pre-entry exam to get in.

I wanted to change that, maybe just to have company in the “excitement lane” or to have content for my blog. The plan was to challenge them to count their blessings and what better way than writing about the journey, the milestones, low moments, lessons and everything in between.

This is Liz’s sstory.

From the time I started school I always believed the best moment or the highlight of the entire school experience would be graduation. I think that time at Waterford nursery and primary school in 1999 when I  graduated from top to P.1 played a major role in this. That day was great, I ate a lot, got gifts, I remember we did all the fun little things that day, I was even allowed to stay up till 11pm!



When I learn’t that I would only be able to graduate again so many  years later I was sad. I wanted to graduate and eat and get gifts after every class, but unfortunately the world  did not revolve around my 5 year old dreams.

I joined law school on my own accord, not because I thought it would please my parents,  but because I pictured myself in a nicely tailored suit in court throwing questions to the  witnesses just like I had watched in legally blonde and also it was a nice save from the pain of mathematics.

It’s 17 years later, and graduation is just a day away so when Komusana requested me to write about my law school experience I thought I should wait until graduation, because according to my  5 year old self in me that’s still the highlight of every school experience.

She refused to work on my schedule  and also I have got everything covered (Thank you God). So far being on that graduation list, picking my invitation cards and getting my gown and hood, has been the highlight of my law school experience.. The journey hasn’t been that obvious for me.  Conquering those books, the late night  and early morning classes, the extremely difficult exams and everything else makes me a very grateful child right now.


Meets after. Meet Liz, Achola, Loveliz Elizabeth. That girl with the loud ring tone in 1st year. Former blogger turned free lance writer. Taker of both cruises. Life eater

Law school has not all been bad.  There have been more great memories than bad ones.. I can say I sailed through, the winds and storm of course its was all God.

I have met tonnes of human beings. Some became friends and others we shall forever be acquainted. I am thankful  that I have had consistency  with my friends since first year, otherwise the world out there would have been a cold harsh place.


From September 2013,I have experienced some of the most beautiful things  I have zero
regrets. The greatest lesson being letting go of disappointments and setbacks in life in
exchange for hanging on the promises of God. I have also learn’t not to overthink things,
spontaneity has become my middle name.
Next step is trying all my luck in the world to get into LDC, then get my hands on that money.  Then hopefully, just like I had planned when I was in F. 3, get married by 28 and get myself three white puppies (Lol)  A horse. And a fountain. And obviously a big house with even a bigger compound because that horse isn’t going  stay in one place all the time….
Well, that’s pretty much my story, what’s yours?

The Story of Frankie- The Law, Philosophy & Eggs.

Graduation is looming.

Mother’s dress is picked out and she finally wrote that cheque or check to get my dresses.

I had a brilliant idea of sharing my story of law school.

Then it occurred to me that sharing my friends’ stories is an even more brilliant idea.

I asked, many agreed, few proceeded to write and even fewer were chosen.

So for the next few days leading up to 7th July, I will be sharing their stories.

Why their stories?

The idea was to capture the journey of a few of us in law school and publish it on my blog.

It was inspired by the conversations I had throughout our last semester, which for some reason felt very weird

A lot of my friends  did not consider it  an achievement to have finished this chapter of their lives  especially  because  of the horror stories we have had over the years about  the bar course, that is if you even pass the pre-entry exam to get in.

I wanted to change that, maybe just to have company in the “excitement lane” or to have content for my blog. The plan was to challenge them to count their blessings and what better way than writing about the journey, the milestones, low moments, lessons and everything in between.

This is Franklin’s story.


Meet Franklin.The Ultimate Ninja. King of sarcasm.Owner of colorful notebooks and cool T-shirts. Subjected me to a lot of CNN and Discovery Channel. Never says no to a discussion or food or both. Hates exaggerations or just doesn’t get hyperbole. He eats food for hours even days. He is a techie. Had no business in the law class. He writes dramatically.


I really can’t figure out whether it’s been a short time or a long time.

Mostly because my feelings about this law school experience have been rather mixed. The journey started in September 2013. Year after year, different challenges were thrown at us. The complexities of the law were becoming even more complex. Time and again, we were forced to confront the hero (or heroine) within. We constantly had to redefine ourselves, our approaches and our methods. It seemed daunting at first, but we’ve walked the distance and boy did we take those steps, all the way to the finish line!

Now one might wonder, was it bad? Are we just whining? The answer to that can only be based on individual assessment. I’m sure Komusana had a ‘terrifyingly” different experience from mine. But the ultimate question to be asked, I think, is whether it all mattered to us? What lessons did we take from all this?

Personally, law school taught me a significant lesson, growth. Throughout, I have constantly had to face challenges that required me to be better than I was yesterday and I grew from that struggle.

The laws. So many laws. Acts, cases, doctrines, common law. So much stuff. It’s through examination of all this that I came to a simple conclusion, life is complex yet simple. Viewed from the top, life is nothing more than humans trying to create better for themselves. “Lift that veil’ up and you’ll uncover a complexity of systems, each designed to work with the next but also working with the previous one and the others beside it. The law is like that. It is one endless web of intertwined threads some overlapping the others. Messy as it sounds, the law is beautiful. It allows you get a deeper perspective on things, creates a more mature approach to problem solving.


One attribute I’ve come to really appreciate from my law school experience is friendship. The point of law school for me, partly was to make as many friends as I could. A feat that I can say I really did try to accomplish. The beauty about friends is that they teach you how to appreciate life. The different points of view everyone advances creates one holistic picture that is, quite honestly, a masterpiece.

In four years, I have really come to appreciate the sense of community that friendship brings the togetherness, corporation and not to brag, meat! Just ask Komusana. We have eaten meat.


7:48 PM. I am seated on my bed and I feel hungry. I get up, pick a few things and make “the journey”.

This is perhaps one of the most significant journeys in my life. Now I wouldn’t want to call it a pilgrimage or even liken it to one. Nonetheless, if you, the reader, were to call it that, I certainly wouldn’t stop you. This journey starts with a single step.

Lao Tzu said it best when he said, “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” But make no mistake, this is no “journey of a thousand miles”. Not even close! This is a journey of less than even one mile. It’s one of a few hundred met. Its significance on the other hand is nothing to be under estimated. This is the journey for the, rollecks (also spelt as rollex, rollezx, rolex depending on who’s stall you’re buying it from.)

The rollecks has been a savior for many campus students for a long time. (This might be a bit of an exaggeration considering that it probably popped up in the mid 2000’s.) The point is – it is a pretty damn important meal. One’s sacrosanct nature was unknown to me until law school. It’s a very simple transaction, you offer the “rollecks guy” money and in turn he beats up two eggs, slices the tomatoes and green paper, dices a few onions, grates a clove of garlic, whisks the mixture, pours onto his frying pan that is already shimmering with a few grams of cooking oil and voila! Fries the eggs. He gets a chapatti or two, places them on top of the omelet and there you have it. Your own standard Rollecks.

Each bite tells a story. It defines who you are as a person in that moment. It is that central connection you have to the food that makes you believe in the impossible. A rollecks represents hope. A combination of two utterly distinct foods to come up with one awesome “meal”. To me, a rollecks was never a snack.  It represented, and still does, an aspiration. It’s a cultural unification, a food that can be eaten by friend and foe alike. You can disagree on how to govern the country, but do it on a full stomach please. That’s the story a rollecks tells. A story that was never clear to me until law school.  Alright, let me go and get myself a rollecks.

By the way have you ever wondered what the plural of a rollecks is? To be safe, just be hip and call it a rolla.


I appreciate every bit of my law school experience. The deep, the not so deep and the plain shallow. All these picturesque experiences have been amazing. I can’t pick out a favorite but I can say, the final script has been incredible. Has it prepared me for the future, I believe so. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Well, except for a million dollars, or two or three or… you get the point.