Forty Days, One Honest Mirror
This season of fasting has felt different for me. Not louder, not more dramatic, but deeper. It has become less about what I am giving up, and more about what I am learning to let go of. We all have those small habits. The ones that sneak in quietly and settle like permanent tenants. The extra scroll when you should be resting. The delayed task you keep postponing. The small indulgences that slowly become patterns. You notice them, you question them, but somehow… they stay. This time, I decided to meet them differently. Fasting gave me a kind of shared discipline. A collective rhythm. You look around and realize you are not the only one trying to hold back, to be intentional, to sacrifice something. And in that awareness, it becomes a little easier to say no. A little easier to pause. I found myself thinking, if I can do this for forty days, then maybe I am not as powerless as I thought. There’s a small scene that stayed with me. One evening in Kampala traffic, the kind where boda b...