Dear Honoured child of the land,
Of the great hills, terrances beauty
A gentle chill that kisses Kigezi,
Its me a nephew, calling out
an cold ice voice,
Hoping to reach you by.

Back home, we were raised
To point fingers at the Television
And scream " Uncle Shaka "
A true seed of the land,
Deep within my little mind
I would ask why you never step home
Why did home abandon you
To the states!
Or you?

Today, 27th March, I have a ripple
Stuck in my little chest,
Frozen headlines in the media
" Shaka Ssali DEAD "
A profoundly - honoured,
And exceedingly - humbled seed
Of my homestead, Of Uganda...
An iconic figure of journalism.

I, a nephew asks
Why never step home
Why did home abandon you
To the states!
Or you?
I sit here, tears rolling
Hoping to reach you by.
And the televisions read
" Shaka Ssali DEAD "

Every passing day, I waited
Waited for the Memoir
You promised, craving a read
And maybe, maybe my inquisitive
Thirst would be quenched.
Just like I was young
I point a finger at the television
Shaking and trembling, whisper
" Let the bird fly to final rest "