The Revolution is not dead! Long live the revolution of permanent evolution

of the souls and minds of man and woman. Earth's a hatchery, souls are bred

there ain't no dead, Fred, no matter what who said what. The revolution ain’t dead;

the revolution is alive with new life, new living, new breath, not death.

It's epitomized in the spirit and the power of the minds of the people;

moving in the streets in fluid jive to mesmerise the inner eyes of Truth.

It's epitomised in the tears and the spears of the souls of the people - fuck their colour- what colour's the soul, what kind's the mind? - where ALL the people will find the will to rise to realise the right to fight the new order: the monopolies, not the police;

the fat-cats and Corporate rats that bleed us with their greed and feed on our need

and if you don't believe it you're blind as a bat. You blind indeed that's that;

the only solution is economic revolution, and already we've planted the seed

We've fought the revolutions: industrial, political, religious and the racial

and written our freedom in blood.

Now the final solution is an economic revolution so the people can rise from the mud.

I returned from an assignment to Uganda a few weeks ago. It is the youngest, most vibrant spot outside of SA, especially the town of Jinja, on Lake Victoria and the source of the Nile. I could emigrate and live there very easily.

I stayed at the Nile River Explorers campsite in a tented boma overlooking the White Nile, as it hurtled north to Cairo and the Mediterranean. From where I chilled a lot of the time, in a thick cotton hammock, I could see the Bujagali Falls. There is a bar, restaurant in an open boma, with a wooden deck at the campsite.

I spent three days and nights there and met young adrenalin junkies from about 16 different countries. They come to Uganda – mostly to Jinja - to work as volunteers and to raft and kayak. The rapids are Class 5 (the best anywhere in the world). And, phew, can these youngsters party! I am not a water-baby so my adrenaline rush – apart from the parties – was a stunning horseback ride one morning along the banks of the Nile on a 19 hand bay thoroughbred, Geronimo. I cast my mind back to a night in Jinja at the 5 Star Nile Resort Hotel, where, through a contact I was invited for drinks with delegates from the Ugandan Tourist Board, following a conference held there. They persuaded me to stay for dinner, a fantastic spread beside the pool in the gardens of the hotel. A DJ was playing Ugandan reggae, mostly Bobby Wine, a local superstar.

On my way to the bathrooms, I passed four young guys dancing in a circle next to the DJ, and broke into a little reggae move. (I had heard earlier that in October 2008 UB40 held one of their biggest-ever-attended world concerts – in Kampala!). One young guy called out to me: “Hey, Mzungu (white man), come dance!” I happily joined the circle for a few numbers. We introduced each other. They were from Kampala, Uganda’s capital city (where I also stayed for two nights). Three of them were from the tourism delegation; the other is a Bugandan prince, Prince Waasaga, son of the present king (kabaka) of Buganda, the largest of the four kingdoms combined under the name Uganda by the British.

Measured against man

Measured against Time,

i am a split second

bred into a span

of years; measured against

God, i am a sperm

seeking womb of earth to

germinate, give root,

to hold to Time; measured

against the earth I

am a man as tall as

trees, wide as open

spaces are; bound by Time;

Measured against Man.