Uganda Mountains/Mountains in Uganda - Love Uganda Safaris

Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st , your poetry  are  footprints dipped onto the dew beaten village path during ancient country dawns. Your verses are  metaphors inscribed on the back of rainbows new and  old. Your poems speak time, are timeless and they seize hearts that lived and thumped through long struggles and unfounded freedoms. Your words are fingerprints of long gone matriarchs and departed patriarchs that imbibed wisdom from ancient millet gourds of home. You are a voice  crying  in the wilderness of beautiful  Uganda  and must   be collected  to be carved onto the literary DNA of this  African poetry generation for the present and future of educational instruction  .You remind me of  pioneers of traditional poetry , revolutionary griots Agostino Neto , Frank Chipasula ,  Jack Mapange , Niyi Osundare ,  Chenjerai Hove ,   Carlos Chombo aka Thomas  Sukutai Bvuma and Okot p’Bitek , the Ugandan- African  grandmaster of African traditional verse . The beat in your poetry tinkers on to the roof my heart cave like a village drum throbbing from a distance, its echoes reverberating beyond red hills of home. The aroma of your mature, heavily fermented poesy attracts the poetry famished nostrils in academic walls, reading rooms, university lecture –rooms and those yet to be born. Aluta Continua! (Blurb by Mbizo CHIRASHA)

What do you know about “Acholi” People? – Melta


And the lost crows return home:

No more dead nights but dawn

Of new old days brooding crows

On spun arms of baobab brows

Preaching spiced phrases of days by-gone.

And they’ve changed shapes:

They have undergone plastic surgery

And have become sane again

For new tricks in the book of pain

Yet haven’t left their banging crockery.

And they still sing their sweet slogans:

No old face is new in a mask

Though they croak like night owls

Whistling strange tunes for idiot fowls

Locked inside a vaccum flask.

And shock shall slay some again:

And some shall fall upside down

From the red slippery anthills

Of Savannah, we’ll enjoy peals

Of sniffling shrieks downtown.

And these crows roost again:

Haven’t they run out of mud

And returned in life’s mockery

That they bang poetic crockery

Till we’re disquieted by bodyguards?

Tomorrow, they’ll all return:

If they get this finishing mud

And they’ll perch and balance again

Till we begin to feel their wings gain

Sudden heights, their claws begin to thud.

©Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

Election day in Uganda: Tear gas fired, opposition leader detained, social  media shut down - Los Angeles Times


No more ballots win in a fairyland like this but the bullets of poisoned feathered arrows of naked truths skillfully shot straight in the barracks of political wet dreams, masturbating and ejaculating premature sperms of pre-ticked ballots of zealots and heroes of lies and illusions wanding their magic sticks of thunder volcanoes farting metallic clouds in the marital beds of civil rights, and in the locked eloquence of the strong opposing wind of long-awaited change, being herded by the blooming roses of volcanic rods, wreathed in bunting flowers in the corridors of crowns of the squalid new born cities of the hunchbacked dung-hills rinsing the squealing hands of expression …

Lisa's World: Fireflies


Say this is a city

Set upon some dung-hills:

And it underwent metamorphosis:

From a house to a home,

From a home to a village,

From a village to a town

And then to a city of dunghills.

And say these dung-hills

Harbour millions of folks,

And that these folks are rich beggars

Say governed by a tall bald-headed idiot

And so on.

Say a strange squalid wind

Sells sweet fabled-slogans of wealth

And hope in ballot box of bullets.

Night —

Blinding blinking lights

Of wooden-butted fire-breathing fireflies

With metallic nostrils

Laughing blood last.

Night —

A wakeful huge thoughtful

Restless evangelical nightclub

Of moonlit

Black tropical last

At Mvule Hills of Mutesa

Welcoming Stanley

To his reed-ribbed palace.

Night —

Blinking puzzling street lights

Green, yellow-orange, RED

And blood on white-wheeled black tyres!

Of the metallic monsters

Pot-bellied roads humid

Pearls of mud

New and robotic last.

Night —

Famous nude gala

Chilly African virtuous night

Open ulcer mouth lipsticks

Like red pencils dipped in vino;

Shamelessly nude private parts

Not for sale

For sale — squally sulpherous hot last.

Night —

Lukeworm uneasy

Malicious terribly spendid

Callous empty

Entirely long frightful sleepless

Strange lights

Of darkness loom last.

Night —

Swift arrows of darkness

Lustful fitful online

Visibly dark in imported hairs

Extracted from sisal fibres

And the bob-tailed horses

Sorry-looking last.

Night —

Hungry blood and moon-drenched

Red-handed night

Chloric bleak precarious lunar

Wet pelting dung offshore

Extremely sleepless soggy

Ragged unremitting sinister menancing

Imperal fool-hardy last.

Night —

Hallucinatory hysterical hope-filled

Slogans of approaching despair,

Vague movies of refugee blues

Picturesque of gay gala

Owl-hooting night

Attorney – general last.

Night —

Recent wholly foggy

Squealing arm twisting batons

And tear-gas armed wheeled monsters

Sore-eyed blustery lung-plucking

Everlasting scandal last.

Night —

Other demoniac ashen carnival

Lights of night

Sparkling abysmal strenuous

Seriously injured terror-filled

Life-threatening testy night

Sweet-soaked poison

That purifies the political lust

In moon-baked night last.

Night —

The monotonous face on the horde

Queerly long coal

Single dreamlike pumpkin bald-headed

Routine roll-call serial killing

Yellow-pumpkin excretion

In impressive rigged-scientific voting

Underwater last.

Night —

A numb contingent nuptial

Limpid bed-room politics,

Feverish revelatory skimpy shirts

Newly bought rat-eaten rags

Nigh the thigh night fire

With profound zoomed in breasts

Payable public toilets awesome last.

Night —

Upon the naughty-looking dung-hills

Individualistic silent strolling night

Suspicious grimy cynical sick night

Evil ritual acute diarrheal uncommunicative night

Hospital last.

Night —

Dark gloom-festered

Inevitably changing

Velvety sexy night


A never-ending post colonial night

Sweltering with oppression kraal last.

Night —

Lovers of wicked corrugated iron

Upon the dung-hills

The laurel wreath of flowers

Sparkle on the breasts of the loser

Embossed with embroidery

In the yellow-yorked city…

© Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

No description available.

Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st p’ Odoki is a celebrated published Ugandan poet, artist, fabulist, dramatist, novelist, editor, short t story-writer , educator, human rights and literary activist and amateur actor who hails from the Greater North, Kitgum – Acoliland, where the great literary icon , Okot p’ Bitek, came from. He writes majorl9y in Acoli/Luo language and English, with a lot of prolific poetical effusions so rich in unique imagery. He has appeared and featured in a number of both online and print literary venues like blog zines, magazines, and anthologies such as Somnia Blue (AUSTRALIA), Atunis Galaxy Magazine(ALBANIA), Tuck Magazine(GERMANY), Ray of Hope (NIGERIA), The Miombopublishing((ZIMBABWE) , The Black Pride Magazine(NIGERIA), Scarlet leaf Review(TORONTO, CANADA), The Jacobite Magazine(NIGERIA), The Brave New Voices Journal(ZIMBABWE), Indology Magazine(INDIA), OPA/Our Poetry Archive(INDIA), Save Africa Anthology(U.S.A), Dandelion in a Vase of Roses Anthology(U.S.A), Tree of the Poets Anthology(CANADA), to mention but a few. Besides, he has had some of his literary works translated in other languages like French, Romanian and Acoli.


Mbizo CHIRASHA ,TIME OF THE POET REPUBLIC CURATOR. UNESCO-RILA Affiliate Artist( University of Glasgow , School of Education, Scotland) .Africa OutReach Coordinator, IHRAF( Newyork , USA). Author of A LETTER TO THE PRESIDENT. CO-Author of Whispering Woes of Ganges of Zambezi. Co-Author of Metaphors of the Rainbow( Malawi). Co-Editor of SECOND NAME OF EARTH IS PEACE( WorldBeyondWar, USA). Co-Editor of Corpses of Unity( Cameroon) . Co- Editor of Vol7 Street Voices( Germany). Poet in Residence Fictional Cafe( Texas, USA). Poet in Residence ICACD( Ghana). African Performance Poet( Festival de Poseia Medellin, Colombia).

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