I is cookie monster

A minister from Buganda has ‘stunned’ his people by saying he doesn’t respect the Kabaka anymore. Apparently it stems from the treatment he received recently as he tried to meet the monarch. Methinks this is just a ruse. He musta been planning his getaway and he just needed a break. So now we are going to be treated to another round of accusations and he will probably be outed as a non Muganda like a certain Sabalangira Besweri Mulondo who dared “look into the Kabaka’s mouth.”

Red herring, I say. It is designed to make loyal followers of the Kabaka froth at the mouth and stop thinking about what’s important. And of course the minister has chosen his side. He will be taken away from the front, when the president and the Kabaka mend fences tomorrow, and be taken to the secretariat. There, he will be allowed to grow fat and lazy. And if the National Guidance Minister, Alhaji Kirunda Kiveindha’s example is to be followed, after some years, he will be recalled from the back office, dusted over and given a new ministry. That’s how things work, son.

Meanwhile, Egypt is trying to convince the world that they are not giving the countries of the Nile Basin a raw deal. It’s during public disturbances like we have now that big decisions are made. The public’s input is absent in the discourse because the people are someplace else fighting some phantoms.
Oh, and Zzimwe has been contracted to repair the Old Park. I don’t know about your faith these days but after all the potholed roads attributed to this company, I not going to applaud just yet.

These are a few of my favourite … scenes

Every now and then, I come across someone who upon learning that I like to read, will ask me how many books I have read in my life. I stopped responding with an open mouth and wide eyes and then the pulling out my hair. I realized long ago that it was pointless. There are people who think that question can be answered.

Instead, I want to think, I can recall some scenes from books I have read over time; books that made an impression on me. Maybe then, I can give a good answer. So I start…

Phileas Fogg arrives at the Royal Society of Science after going round the world in 80 days, thereby winning his bet.

Angel Hudson arrives in Hollywood

Malcolm Gladwell’s description of Paul Revere’s Midnight Run in The Tipping Point

Lankunle’s crazy outfit

Sadiku spilling the beans to Sidi about Baroka’s alleged ‘condition.’

Dorian Gray plunging the knife into the portrait.

Othello and Desdemona making the ‘beast with two backs.’

Gulliver waking up to find himself the prisoner of the Lilliputians.

Tom Thumb is swallowed by the giant.

Rip van Winkle wakes up after 20 years.

Oedipus slays his dad.

Sydney Carton dies for Charles Darnay in A Tale of Two Cities.

Victor Henry’s cruiser, the USS Northampton is sunk by Japanese torpedoes.

Mary Warren turns on John Proctor and accuses him of ‘witching’ her in front of the magistrate.

The drums grow louder as the end of Udomo nears.

Seriously, who can remember all the stories they’ve read in their life?

Heeding Noah’s warning

Government has no excuse this time, or so it seems. Usually, when crises fall, there’s so many scapegoats running around. For the entire time that this administration’s been in power, there’s always been an excuse for everything that’s gone down.

Ministers have refused to resign, when someone has raised the option when something went awry on their watch. Resign? A Ugandan minister?

But the floods are starting next month. The meteorologists in Entebbe have done what they always do year in, year out and warned of what might happen if the floods get here and no steps have been taken to see to it that nothing’s damaged.

But last night on the news, I saw the good Professor Tarsis Kabwegyere Uganda’s minister for disaster preparedness addressing the nation (at the Media Center, so it was official, no?) telling us the government knows what’s coming. He even said there are plans to harness the waters should they rise. They have all these plans drown up telling the weather gods to bring it on.

Beyond the politics, I think this should be a point to hold them to account. Previous floods have caught the administration flat footed. Agreed we have all been guilty. But the authorities have always blamed everyone and everything but themselves. The official line is for a grown man to blame the opposition, the rioters, Gadaffi, past leaders (oh sorry, they’re all dead now) even when the facts are staring him in the face.

I believe that the government has the resources to save lives and property in flooded areas. I believe that there is enough time to plan for these emergencies. Apart from a whole ministry dedicated to disaster preparedness, there is a planning unit that does all the necessary planning for all government agencies.

In short, there’s no excuse this time.

I will try hard to ignore the sinking feeling up in my throat about this chest thumping. I will pray that what happened during the last two floods in eastern Uganda will not happen again.

I’ll take…Kampala

The violence, as we all know, was not exactly surprising. This will happen again, one can be sure about that, as long as one side does not feel like they are getting a fair deal. And from what’s been doing the rounds, people are not satisfied.

People are not sufficiently cowed though. Arresting 160 people is redundant, really. I am thinking, we should be looking at the next step. What should we do?

Having grown up in Kampala, I am a certified assimilado. My people come from elsewhere but all I know, all I can really hold materially as important has been right here.

I would have just looked on to the next event if not for the disturbing undercurrents of violent tribalism that were exhibited during the four days of mayhem. The sight of a beat up Lt. Col. Kulayigye at Bulange (what in hell was he doing in that area at that time of all times?) can’t be easily erased.

The good Colonel was told to sing the Ekitiibwa kya Buganda and reportedly forced to do other things he’d never have done by his own volition.

But I heard the unmistakable hate chants directed at people with long noses and for me, that’s scary. I might see myself as an assimilated musoga (not even from the west, you see) but to many people, I look like I am from Mbarara, all because of deceptive facial features.

I have been called a mulaalo for long enough for me to know that should those idle threats ever tip over into real action, it would be wise for me to stay indoors. Or throw in my lot with the devil.

This then brings in other issues that would have seemed unthinkable to me. I do not like the way this government is going about the business of governing my country but if it is going to keep the madness underneath, short of fleeing, I might find myself going to the polls in 2011 with an amended view of what ‘voting wisely’ means.

Doctor, doctor, shall I die?

A few days ago I was in the country, moonlighting with a lady who was in Uganda to do a short film on malaria. I comforted myself that it was not so bad since she was supposed to be doing something good for my people – the video is to be used by Makerere University College of Health Science for something or other.

Going aface, we went to many places. Naturally, she wanted to see ‘the real Uganda.’ I obliged. I tried not to think of the exploitation that this whole thing smirked of. I reminded myself time and again that this was for a good cause, even when a number of the locals we met deep in Busoga couldn’t be bothered. “We are tired of those Bazungu who come here, take our pictures and disappear, leaving us in the same state,” they said.

I met an old woman who had gone to a health center and who was being turned away by the medical workers. She had a resurgent high blood pressure issue and she was due to see the doctor in Jinja town. The medics at the Center II did not have the skills or the resources, anyway, to help her.

They kept on telling her that her condition was dire and that she had to find a way to get to Jinja town. This was just a few kilometers from the town – along Kamuli Road. She gave up at last. She didn’t have the Shs2000 to take her and bring her back. She limped away.

I ran over and gave her the money I had in my pocket. But even as I did this, I knew this was futile and maybe a form of disrespect; would I give everyone a few thousand shillings in the village? How far can charity go?

The Center IIs in the countryside still use Chloroquine and Fansidar to treat malaria. That’s all they’ve got. They have heard that these drugs are not to be used but whoever tells them these things does not provide a solution.

Even right in the middle of Kampala (Bwaise Kimombasa), people still resort to Aloe Vera and other plants to treat themselves. The doctors up in the concrete jungle say traditional healers are all just a bunch of crooks. Problem is after these jeremiads, there’s the sound of silence where solutions would have been.

People will laugh at a goat in a coat

There’s a storm brewing at work over the way we dress. Or it could be all in my head, a tea cup or whatever. Our Kenyan bosses, I have come to notice, really get their panties twisted when it comes to dressing. Now, just like it was with the previous bossman, our new MD has come with his own fervor regarding how we must present ourselves at work.

We are required to wear SUITS (yeah, don’t laugh) and we must do this throughout the week. The ladies have it rougher; they have been told to leave the jeans home. No more skinnies, dearies. At the weekend, we can put on only DARK jeans (who would want to wear white jeans?)

But this is like going round Mt Sinai. Same ol’ same ol’. I mean, I expected to see peeps all suited up this morning. I thought I’d be the odd man out. I thought I’d be denied entry at the gate or something. I guess even the security people do not believe in this charade.

I just want this fuss to be over with so we can all get back to our usual drabness.

And also, I have been doing some field work lately and it feels good. Going to rural areas finding out about the impact of malaria is not exactly the best way to spend time out of office but interacting with the different people out there, going into their lives and seeing their humanness up-close has been refreshing.

Oh, and, please be careful with your cars. I hear the thugs have gotten so clever. And vicious. Someone bumps you from behind, don’t stop. You are probably a few minutes away from a really nasty experience.