By Ivan Aboga Rackara

So it’s been a while, three months to be precise. A cold trio of months that was provoked by a cowardly threat from an unknown caller who accused me of writing false information even though the info I posted was firsthand verified, but anyway that’s not the point for my latest article.

You see without consistence any professional is powerless, a writer’s armor is the text with which he sends his message out to the world to be heard.

With every single reader who accesses his message comes a satisfaction borne from the reality that his message has been passed on, feedback then confirms the reality that the message was received and it provoked a reaction, that’s the pleasure I missed, having people compliment, commend and even sometimes critique negatively and disagree with me, that’s the whole point in communicating.

So I sat down today all miserable today, my worry emanating from the fact that I hadn’t written anything for public scrutiny and in my defense my excuse was that I had been threatened and with the right number of misfortunes I had eventually had my second dose of writer’s block in three years-a condition I overcome a month later just in time to rescue my grades which were slipping down the drain.

But overcoming it wasn’t enough my fear for publicly posting anything had the best of me so for the past three months I typed endlessly on my laptop, but never completed any article after all there was no one to read and it made no sense writing so I hardly followed up my ideas to their maturity and eventually my articles lost their timeliness and were deleted.

With the stint of luck my friend and most intelligent student in my class invited me for a new challenge to my writing. Sports journalism it was and is the website I now write for but still after just one article on the 20th of June I failed to replicate the writing and never wrote anything.

I figured this would work owing to the fact that I wasn’t bound to piss off anyone to the extent that they would make threats towards my existence, but things never went well, writer’s block had taken its toll.

So I just sat down one day, bored with everything and got lost deep into thought to one conversation I had with my Frank Isabirye my tutor in journalism class who also happens to be the closest thing I have to an academic or even a moral mentor.

We were sited at a stationary shop where we access our course works and handouts and he just happened to join me and my friends and the whole question of ethical journalism weighed in. I took the cue to ask him what he would do if his life were threatened.

He looked up and asked me “What do you stand for?” he said.

I was stuck, confused you could have said, for all my maturity was worth I had never quite asked myself the question, it was new to me, I shuffled my thoughts for an answer but my brain was determined to leave me speechless so I kept quiet and never replied.

It was the end of the conversation, I never quite gave Frank a reply and he wasn’t in any hurry to have an answer so we left it at that but it stuck in my mind, am a chatter box when among familiar company so I was more surprised that I could have failed to come up with a reply, I pride myself in always having an answer to everything but I had none for my mentor.

With time I forgot all about the conversation till a week ago when I realized or rather became opinionated that I now did. In asking for what I stand for, it was probably Frank’s view that if you stood for a cause then it was your moral responsibility to stand by your cause and once I gave him an answer he would have probably asked me whether I was willing to surpass all boundaries for it.

After hard thought I finally came up with what I stood for, based on all the things I loved and hated, where my loyalties lay and realized one thing; whatever I stood for it was not to back down from my writing at first threat.

The Ivan Rackara Aboga  i want to be in ten years might just be ashamed of me if he heard that at one point I considered giving up on my passion.



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