The Emuron 🥷🏽🧘🏽‍♂️

The wait is finally over! Passed the Bar on my second attempt long overdue. A few supplements and God did it 🙏🏾✨ #LDCResultsCrisis

Thank you @LDC_Uganda I failed Legal Writing. I want to stay with that sentence for a moment before I move past it, because it deserves the stillness. Not because it was the worst thing that happened to me, it wasn't, but because of what followed it. The silence that moved in afterward and arranged itself around me like furniture. The particular quality of other people's concern. The careful, measured, generously delivered conclusions about the shape of my future, the ceiling of my ambitions, the reasonable distance my voice could travel. People spoke. I listened. Then I went back to the desk. That is the whole story, really. Everything else is detail. But the detail matters, so here it is. I am a writer, at least I try to do some writing. The sentence is my first instrument, the thing I reach for before anything else. And the subject that asked me, above all else, to write, that is the one that refused me. There is something in that almost too neat to be accidental, as though the universe had decided, in its dry unhurried way, to make a point at my expense. I did not find it funny at the time. I find it instructive now. I sat at the desk most mornings when no one was watching. I read the same cases. I wrote the same kinds of sentences, watched them dissolve, and wrote them again. I returned to a thing that had already refused me once, with no audience, no guarantee, no drama underneath it. Just the work. Just the page. Just the slow, unglamorous, invisible act of refusing to become someone smaller than I knew I was. The people who drew the ceiling had not measured correctly. Today I passed - at least officially. This cohort. Not the last one, and I want to be precise about that, because Legal Writing taught me precision, in the end, on its own terms. This cohort. And between that cohort and this one lives everything, every morning at the desk, every page that asked more than I thought I had, every moment I continued when the story everyone else told about me had already ended. To @LDC_Uganda thank you. For both results. The first one taught me more. To everyone who passed, first attempt, third, fifth, whichever numbered door finally opened, you passed. That is the complete sentence. Everything before it belongs to you alone. To those who didn't, I know the room you are sitting in tonight. I know its furniture. I will not explain the weight of it to you; you are already holding it and you know exactly how much it costs. I will only say this: the silence is not the verdict. It only feels that way at the start. Come back to the desk. The world builds its surprises quietly, in ordinary rooms, on ordinary mornings. I know. I was there. Dean Natukunda.

Me to the Graduands at @LDC_Uganda

my new essay: ‘the westernization of moaning’ i wrote about how western influence has removed identity and authenticity from our everyday activities, including & especially sex. read here: @simikunleoni/the-westernization-of-moaning-5d62e60b3878" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener">medium.com/@simikunleoni/…