At 3.30 pm I decided it was time to pick my little angel Elizabeth from School and take her home before night fall, and to evade the situation as rioting had now engulfed the entire city, save the central business district area.  My colleagues advised against driving, but suggested that I use boda boda (motor cycle taxis) instead.

I take the advice and pick Laban from the stage and proceed to pick the little angel. Laban was at first unwilling to make the trip to Nansana. It took a bit of haggling and finally, we set off.  The first sign of trouble was at Central police station, vehicles were being diverted off Buganda road to George way.  We finally make it to the school and pick Aiikoru.

Then we started off onto Bombo road and onto Makerere Hill road. At the Kobil petrol station, fire is smoldering on the road, but police has cleared the road and traffic flows smoothly.  A few metres, away, we hear teargas canister expode. When we reached Nakulabye, the Hoima road has been sealed off.  So we continue along Mutesa II road onto the Nabulagala road and proceed towards the Masiro.  At Kasubi, the road is sealed off by locals, lined by amused onlookers, some boys singing the Buganda anthem.  No vehicles can move at all.  Boda Boda must stop, dismount and walk past the erected barricades.

After 10 metres of walking, we mount the motor cycle and edge slowly to Namungoona.  At the stage, rioters have blocked the road.  You can see that the road has been blocked all the way from Kasubi.  At Namungoona stage, youths have blocked the road and are collecting used lorry tyres to light a born fire.  Looking beyond the stage, fire is raging across the road through the Lubigi swamp all the  way to Jenina stage.  The swamp and the areas around is engulfed in plums of dark smoke, releasing Persistent Organic Pollutants (POPs) into the sky.  Laban stops and implores me to release him as he is afraid, he can not make the journey anymore.  I pay him and join the multitude walking home.

We pass hordes of youths chanting the Buganda anthem, some collecting tyres, and all sorts of fuel to pile on the embers flaring on the road.  This scenario is repeated every 20 metres.  The youths are angry.   Angry, at the government refusal the landlord (the Kabaka) from visiting his land. At some point, after Jenina, youths are exhorting money from boda boda riders, asking for road toll.

We walk passed several blockades, plums of smoke, chanting and excited youths, walking masses and anxious onlookers.  We get news of people walking home in Kampala, children stranded at schools and that some people, for fear of going home are going instead to Mulago Hospital Complex for the night.  We meet mothers fearing for their children who are stranded at school.  It is 5.00 pm and with transport paralyzed, it is truly scary.

Before we reach home, on the advice of a policeman at Nansana police post, we take a detour from the main road and emerge at the Shell at Masitowa and slope home, after sidestepping the many barricades that characterize the road now.  Rioters are shouting xenophobic utterances.  We want to see a Munyala now, we want the ones with long noses.  Very scary, if you consider what happened in Rwanda.  It becomes very very scary.  The profile of the youth is also telling.  They are mainly in their teens or twenties, a few in the thirties, they speak and act as if they are high on some substance.  I saw some children, ten to 15 year olds waving twigs and jumping on the road, they should be at school.  Sometimes they accost you, requiring of you to sing the Buganda anthem as a password.

On reaching home, I quickly tune the radio to find out what is going on.  The news is bad.  Trouble in Natete, Bwaise, Kibuye, Masaka, Kyengera, Jinja road, Ntinda, Nakulabye, Kasubi, literally all over Kampala.  Mubende, Mpigi and Kayunga is tense as rioters had emerged in those areas.   All the road leading into the city is sealed off and travelers from upcountry are stranded outside the city.  There is no movement of cars in the suburbs.  The BBC has a news bulletin on the incident.  But their story is shallow as it is limited to the city only and a sound bite of excited rioters. 

At about 700 pm, lights are switched off.  Then the bullets start.  The  army had arrived to disperse the youths and the sporadic firing could tell the tense situation.  People scamper for their homes and the roads cleared.  Radio Uganda has the President on, addressing the Nation.  He recounts the history of this conflict.  From the unprincipled partnership between Kabaka Yekka party and UPC, to the land bill, insights into the restoration of Kingdoms and how they could operate, rebuffing federalism for Uganda as being a panacea for corruption and mismanagement, to giving us a glimpse into his relationship with the Kabaka.

The president says that the Kabaka refused to pick his calls, nor return his missed calls for two years.  That despite the concerted efforts of the National Security to meet with Mengo to resolve this impasse, nothing had happened.  When he finally spoke to his Highness, the discussion is not conclusive as regards resolving many outstanding issues.  And that the Katikkiro (Prime Minister of Buganda) had snubbed the minister of internal affairs in a scheduled meeting.

When sleep weighed heavily on the eye lids, sporadic fire aroused me to attention.

Nansana went to bed very tense. By 7.00 pm, horrified people had closed their doors, the shops had closed by 2.00 pm and the thought of the bad days of childhood, of people sleeping in the forests became alive.  Surely Uganda can not afford to relive the bad days.

Whosoever accumulated the highest number of points would qualify to represent Uganda in Malaysia in November.  I thought there was a flaw in this system.  What if for a reason or another, a player is justifiably unable to attend one or two tournaments?  Should we not therefore take the Kenyan route of the best three finishes to determine that special player who will carry the national flag. 

The SAU executive meeting sat early this year to consider and pronounce itself on these and other vexing matters.  First, the executive had to be reconstituted as Chris Ntege, until now the SAU chairman, was leaving the country and a new steward was needed to steer the ship.  The SAU assembly sitting on January 27^th, at Nakasero Senior School returned another Chris, Chris Kalibala, a FUFA delegate for western Uganda as the new honcho at the helm of the association, with yours truly retained in absentia, into the role of Publicity Secretary.

In March, the executive committee again sat, in Mbarara to set the tone of the qualifiers and with it sow the seed for the winner.  It was agreed in that meeting that ECASA would play the pivotal role of determining that special person to be handed the mantle to earn Uganda a second slot at the world championships.  ECASA points  would be weighted, the meeting agreed. 

For me the journey to qualification started late.  I could not attend the first qualifier owing to a personal tragedy.  So Nakasero Senior School was a no show for me.  With it, a most difficult campaign had started a herculean task.  I therefore needed a morale booster.  This, I got from a speech by JFK who eruditely put to the world America’s character.  He said, we choose to go to the moon, (rising tone) we choose to go to the moon,  (even higher tone) we choose to go to the moon in this decade and do many other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.

When in February we set off for the second qualifier hosted by Mukagwa Club in Jinja, the stakes were already higher for me.  In that tournament, the female anopheles mosquito had conspired to dim my stars.  Chris Ntege sensed that and made a meal out of me on second day.  I finished third on 11 points.  A bad beginning already.  They say a bad beginning has a good ending. Hope so.

The following month, we decamped to Mbarara.  This was my turn to turn on the heat and save my qualifications from running aground.  It was my turn to take the steering wheel, press the gas pedal and vroom into the lead and into the future.  Edwin-Mugisha the phenomenon won Mbarara and with it my hopes were surely dimming. I managed position three on 12 points.

The next tournament would be ECASA and I was excited as my chances would improve.  In ECASA, the best placed Ugandan player would carry a huge advantage into the qualifications matrix as the weight would insure an insurmountable lead on other slot contenders.  As it turned out, this was my worst ECASA outing, performing well below par.  With Edwin on 13 points, my 10 points could not only mean that I had to take JFK’s quote literally.  That I had to do the hard things as the easy options had run out. 

It is an uphill task.  It is a hard thing to do.  It is like going to the moon in 1963.  It is mission impossible.  But there is no choice; I have to undertake this tough journey so as to leave a trail. In all purposes and intends, Edwin-Mugisha had qualified to represent Uganda in the World Scrabble Championship in Malaysia this year in the ECASA tournamnet.  What with 13 yet to be factored points.   Edwin-Mugisha walks with a bounce to his steps these days.  After ECASA, Edwin-Mugisha now walks with an illustrated bounce.  The future of Ugandan Scrabble is living his dream.  He says, he will storm the world championship.  But I have to put that to the test.  There is half a chance that I can qualify.  If I win all the remaining qualifications, if I surmount Edwin’s lead, I will win.  It is in times like this that a man’s character is tested.  I take the test.

Qualifier number four fell on Labour Day and Mr. Biggs club on Lumumba Avenue in Kampala was the setting for this excruciating tournament.  In the run up to this event a lot of bravado had been exchanged between yours truly and Edwin-Mugisha.  I had to win this tournament.  Nothing more nothing less.  When the games begun, Dr. Meko Godfrey and Greens Kamugisha had other ideas.  On day one, Dr. Meko won eight games in a row with Greens keenly behind.  Edwin-Mugisha was third and brimming knowingly.  I was further afield having succumbed to the leading pack and having suffered an upset to Dennis Owor, the home boy.  To my horror, this tournament is getting out of hand and I must win it at the greatest of odds.  Day two offered some welcome reprieve and a worthy respite.  I won all my games to take this tournament on spread.  My first tournament win was very sweet. Dr. Meko, Mr. Greens and yours truly all gained 11 points.  

In June we had two one-day tournaments.  A dress rehearsal.  Setting the background for oncoming qualifiers at Mr. Biggs and the very phenomenal final at Mukagwa Club.  I easily won the Uganda Martyrs tournament 9/10 and followed that with Hero’s Day 8/10.  This feels good.  I am setting the pace, building the crescendo to the penultimate and the grand finale.  As we exchanged braggadocio with Edwin – Mugisha, more like a boxing match, the fifth qualifier beckoned.  Mr. Biggs Club on Lumumba avenue and later YMCA was at hand.

In July, we descended on Mr. Biggs.  Going into this tournament, Chris Ntege had put a bounty on my head on account of my form.  He offered UGX 5K for anyone who would take a game from me. On Day one, I was cruising easily until I landed on Edwin who put a stop on my clean sweep of four games.  Deo Mbabazi took the cue from Edwin and settled an old score.  Greens Kamugisha did not want to lose out on the cash, he handed me another defeat.  I said enough was enough.  On day two, I won all the games to win this qualifier 15/18.

In the SAU executive meeting that evening, it was decided that the ECASA points weighting would be a factor of three.  My plea for factor two fell on deaf ears.  Members wanted maximum respect for ECASA.  The ramification of this development, that Edwin-Mugisha now has 13×3 (39) against my 10×3 (30), a massive nine points deficit. 

So fellows, you can see, my waterloo was not Mukagwa Club, but YMCA in Wandegeya, Kampala.  Suddenly the standings read: Edwin-Mugisha 84 points, Geria Richard 79 points, a gap of five points.  At factor two, the headline would be hailing a new KING with the onus of earning this fair country another slot at the biennual world scrabble event.  For Edwin-Mugisha, Mukagwa is simply a walk in the park.  I envisage him humming a familiar tune. I see him reading a book to easy the mind, yet fortify the cerebral cortex and the medulla oblongata.  I see Edwin easying the amygdala, smelling victory.  I am racing the mind, starting off a storm.  The stake can not be any higher.  Edwin-Mugisha now needs to lose four games to qualify while yours truly must win all his games, literally.

Going to Mukagwa Club was not easy.  To complicate an already fragile situation, an old friend had decided that he will sanctify his marriage on Friday.  The day fell on July 31^st, 2009.  The wedding fell on an inopportune moment when I needed to rest so as to gain the stamina to storm Mukagwa Club and snatch Uganda’s slot from Edwin-Mugisha, then carry the national flag to Malaysia.

Anyway, I attend this wedding.  The temptation at weddings is too much to resist.  Lots of meat, lots of the frothy stuff at the right temperatures, too much music, too much noise to help my preparation for the grand finale.   With an unwilling cupid’s arrow, I finally leave the wedding , but this is in the morning on Saturday August the 1^st, 2009. I have not slept, I have not rested.

I sent Edwin a message.  I say, call me when you wake up.  So, Edwin, as faithful as ever, obliges and calls 78me up at 5.30 am. I have barely rested.  But Edwin finds me awake.  I switch the phone off, and delve into another 30 minutes of sleep.

At six thirty, I summon the strength to leave the warmth and comfort of the bed and dare into the cold Wakiso morning racing to catch the bus to Jinja.  Edwin is already in the bus.  Edwin would be the first of the visitors to alight at Mukagwa club.

At 9.30 am, I finally reach the club.  Nature is beautiful.  It was in Mabira forest that I finally put my head together, reflecting on JFK, it was in Mabira forest that I begun to believe. Greens was on the same bus.  Greens must have slept.  I did not hear a word from Greens.  The green in the forest, the clean air gave me the needed tranquility.  There was a little altercation in the bus.  Carbon fumes from the exhaust was into the bus at some point.  This was driving me insane.  It was in Mabira that we made peace with ourselves.  The breathtaking beauty offered us the peace of mind and it calmed my nerves.  So, I decided, I should sleep.  I slept for thirty minutes and awoke at Mukagwa club.

I needed to eat.  So I checked out a street makeshift eaterie and reminded the lady to prepare KATOGO (cassava and beans, Irish potatoes), some eggs and hot black tea.  I needed energy, I needed heat to warm up the body, I needed the sugar to awaken the head.

Pairing.  I pick table number five and to my dismay, I have no opponent.  Kiganda and Paul have arrived late and no one has picked me.  The tournament director decides to pair three of us.  Kiganda is the lucky man.  He tallies yours truly.

Game 1

In this game, Kiganda Joseph, a former Makerere University Champion, panicked too much. He managed four bad plays, playing RAILERS in the end as a consolation.  With JEREED (38), BEAUX (38), NATURINg(67), QUADS (63) GESTAPO (88) and finally RAREFIED +5 (78), Kiganda gifted yours truly, a massive spread of 334.  Finally scoring 554 against 233.

Game 2

Nelson Kyagera had announced his intentions in the first game.  He had amassed over 200 spread.  We meet on table one.  I play FLIP (18), he played REF (8) at this point.  I place HEBEN (24) he responds with QIS for 24.  I ran AUDIBLY (79) and never looked back. I place high scores, seven over 30 points including two over 40 scores and THROATS for 74.  Nelson manages only two 30+ high scores.  Scorecard reads in my favour 510:269.

Game 3

Ssali Steven denied a clean sweep of the Martyr’s Day tournament in June.  We call him Kikoffira, a corruption of the wide rimmed sun hat.  The word borrowed from Hebrew KAFFIYEH. I would have matched Green’s record of 100% at a one day event.  I feel my body feels right.  Ssali is WORN (14).  I disagree NAY (14).  When I notice Ssali struggling with his rack, I daze him with KATIONS +5 (85) and follow that up with MODELED (75).  He responds with XU (37) HEN (28).  I pull away with FLIC (33), JAZY (43) and VITE (37) to end the game at 445 against 257.  3/3 is a good start.   That is a thrust to game four.

Edwin-Mugisha is running on a clean slate too. He is on fire at 3/3.  Naturally he joins me on table one.  I have sperm count spread of 764.  I say to myself, for me to win this tournament, for me to qualify, only one man matters.  I train myself on that man setting him up for target practice.

Game 4

It is a ping-pong at first. He lands THY (18), I respond with WOF 22.  BLIP for 24 I blunder with BOAP (—).  Edwin lips for joy knowing he is having me for lunch.  That was my first slip. When he WELDS for 24, I land BOTT for 22. The drama had just started.  Edwin SMUSHED me (96) to surge into a 120 lead.  I PAINTED (80).  Holding EEEQRRS, wondering the audacity of picking, I play REQUERES +5 (76) through a U he mercifully provided.  Then ADVISING (92) through and G he mercifully provided on triple lane.  This feels good. Finally finishing him off with ANERGIA (76).  The high score of WOX (39), ZEIN 48 and JOY (34) (that should be agonizing) came too late and I am brimming ear to ear. I told you so.  I win 495 to 393.

Game 5

Greens Kamugisha had the task of putting a stop my clean run.  This game was my first challenge.  No bingos either way.  I won it owing to six over 30 scores.  His highest score was IF (30).  Final score: 369 to 359.

Game 6

I found Wekiya Emmanuel waiting for me.  He gave me the second fright in this tournament.  Inexperience was written all over his game.  The tile gods had camped on his rack.  But he failed to use his blessings.  Although a played RESELLS (70) in the end, I pulled away to victory with VAWTE (30), KUDOS (46) LACING(44) and ASSOARTED (72) to win 440 to 365.  So far 6/6.

Game 7

SIP is the linchpin of Mukagwa Club.  They call him the superhero.  Going into this game, the environment was charged. Players were heaping cash rewards on SIP if he can pull an upset.  A total of UGX 4, 000 was raised for him.  I matched it.   In the end, he was no match as I ran RENTALS and a joyful nine letter word INGRAFTED (71).  He did not play any bingos.  I win 494 against 279.

Game 8

Kasigwa is what we call MZEE kijana.  A grizzly, young man.  His game is admirable. But he is prone to mistakes.  He believes in picking the high scoring letters.  As he fishes or hold s these letters, I happily romp away WAQF (39), SILEX (38), LAZIER (75) ZINEB (32) PADDIES (75) and joyfully, ENJOY (48) and ran him out 450 against 317. Scorecard reads 8/8.

Game 9

I am paired against our secretary general.  An officious and judicious man.  Ahmed Sennoga arrived alte for this tournament because he had to trouble shoot back in Kampala.  Now Edwin-Migisha pays him to shoot the trouble  I am causing, running away to victory with no single challenge.  Sennoga has a theory, that he has no luck against me in tournaments.  To that I say amen.   With ASININE and BOVINES for a combined 163 I ran to 454.  He plays hard ball, several 40s and 30s, plus TRAINED (77) to end on 403.  PHEW.  Another deserved win. So far 9/9

Game 10

Chris Kalibala, my chairman arrives on this full of optimism.  He his egged on by the players who promise to reward him if he fells me. He scores heavily, QUEER (32), HINTS for 32, PERK for 30 and several over 27 scores.  I reply with IRATE (39) a number of over 30s of my own and RESIGNED for 89 to tally 454 against his 303. 10/10 at this point.

Game 11

I am paired to play Dr. Kirunda.  However, the old man has heart to retire as an emergence at the hospital requires his attention.  I get my first abye.  Record on Scorecard: 11/11.

Going into the evening, I feel good.  So far I have a perfect record. Could this be the time records fall? Could it be the time to break the jinx and make the national record of 18/18?  Well. It could as well be.  Tomorrow is another day.  So I seek a light meal for super, mandazi, peanut butter, samosas and tea.  Then get to the club for two drinks and retire for the day.

Game 12

It Sunday August 2^nd, 2009.  Time check, 9.00 am.  This is the last of the SWISS pairing system.  Paul, the chairman  of Mukagwa Club is my next opponent.  But Paul delays and gifts me another free point.  Record 12/12.

Game 13

Again Philips Edwin-Mugisha. He who wants to reset the natural order of things.  The natural order being a dominant Philips. Cheeky is it not?  I draw COTTAGES, INMATES and OLEINES.  Edwin responds once with AEROTONE, then follow that with heavy scores: GRAB 37, LIVED 32, JUNGLE 60, ZERO 48.  But they come to late to save his blushes.  I take it 485 against 413.

Game 14

If there is someone I wanted to play in order to qualify, he is Edwin-Mugisha.  We practice together, so he knows my game and I his.  It is normally a high tempo game.  But the pressure on Edwin to stop my free run is too much and this game is relished by all the players.  The build up in this game was slow and cautious. Then Edwin lands CARSENE.  I challenged it off the board.  As I balanced the rack, he returned CAREENS (69).  I respond with AGREMENS (90).  The caution continues.  He scores VIXEN for 47, LAZE for 37 and some inconspicuous scores in between.   I take the cue and round him off with ROSALIA +5 (81) to score 430 against 317.

Game 15

Owing to Edwin’s 10 points, and that others in between are one point or two behind the queue.  I am paired to play Edwin again.   Holding BDEERIT, I try REBITED. I notice my folly, but this was too late.  Edwin challenges it off the board.  He lands PEWTERS (82) whence without batting an eyelid, I place BESTRIDE through the S for 63.  When on the next move I play SAZ (44), Edwin quickly respond with DOUANIER (70) to give me another opportunity.  I land POINTERS (80) followed by REGULINE +5 (77).  I felt pity for Edwin.  But no pity I show. He fights back like a wounded buffalo, VOX for 45 and FUTURES (67) later. I wrap this game 462 against 425.  Stand up for 15/15.

Game 16

At this point. Ssali Steven is thrust my way.  He has 10 points with a superior spread.  I give Ssali no chance, landing ANERGIAS, QUAERES and ALERTEST.  He finds FINDERS coupled with some high scores.  But the Score sheet reads 362 to 486.  I am sure Scrabble is a word game, a mind game as well as a game that requires some arithematics.  But in this case, my minds must have slowed down for I register the Spread as 144.  Ssali, recovering from this game must have been difficult, for he attested to this mistake.  The ramification could not have been any grim.  Edwin had lost to Greens Kamugisha on table two. So Edwin and Ssali tied on points, but separated on spread.  Okay.  Do the arithematic, 486 minus 362 = 124.  It came to pass that Edwin returned to table 1, on account of a superior spread of +2.  Yet, Ssali should have remained on table one if I had done the correct maths.  Ssali would have had a spread of +308 against 294 for Edwin.  This mistake was the defining moment of this qualifications.  Despite all my efforts and keeping this qualifications very hard for Edwin up to the last moment, it took a memory lapse. It  must be the sleep deficit.  It must be the sweet deadly carbon monoxide I in haled on the bus.  How on earth can this happen.  Anyway, I have consolation in my head to head record against Edwin. Besides, I must completely dominate him to earn the ticket to the championship.

Game 17

As I said, the calculation error meant Edwin returns on table one despite losing to Greens on table two.  He has 2 points better than Kikoffira and now? Amazing.  A man loses a game, he is then rewarded to play on table one. Scrabble can be strange.  Anyway I meet Edwin for the fifth time.  So far, I am 4/4 against him.  On the third move, I place FINAL for 33.  It must the be the final nail on the coffin.  He replies with POOTLES +5 (85).  I keep this game close, then unleash ENQUIRED for 104.  ZEE (32) and STATERS (67) and YOW (33) stretched Edwin to 16 points ahead of me.  The picking now decided OOEAIUN.  What do you do?  Wash?  I decide NAZI 13 followed by TABOO 24 REINK 28 and KILL 24.  I thought the message will sink that I intend to kill of this qualification.  Edwin persist, taking the threat seriously scoring JUCOS to take the game beyond me.  Holding the second blank, he finishes to complicate this qualification series. Final score, Edwin wins 433:408.

Game 18

In the final game, I start with DEPTH 30.  He responds QUAT for 26.  My rack is heavy with vowels.  I had read the dumps to prepare for the horror of pickings.  When Edwin plays COZE , I see the chance to dump CANADA.  But I have to content with NNIGNRJ.  Thankfully, I sport A and play NINJA for 60.  That must be a cue.  He plays STIRRUP, ANSERINE and scores EMOVES to garner 181. He later played FIRY; which I did not challenge as I focused on ROUNDING and BAST for 121.

This man is edging me out of the slot.  At 16 points and him at 10, it was foregone that I am the man to go down South East Asia.  But the turn of events is horrifying.  He is 11/17. What is more, I will lose 50K offered by Chris if I qualified.  Edwin has been a costly opponent.  He wants the slot. Which I must not lose.  I have already lost UGX 50K for not winning the tournament 100%.  Yet I will lose more money if I do not qualify. I recollect my thoughts and focus on the game. Watching the board and tracking the tiles, I figure SOIRDENEKU.  Okay, what is the probability that Edwin will play SORDINE, INDORSE INDORSEE.  The board offered two options. INDORSEE/COZES and SORDINE/ROSINED.  If I play SCOG, I open another frontier for him for INDORSES.  I take the chance.  But to my horror, he lands ROSINED, a photo finish.  He wins that all important second point to settle at the barest of minimums, 12/18. Edwin-Mugisha is animated. He blasts off, running like a headless chicken, completely nonplussed.  You thought he won the lottery. 

I won the tournament in record fashion, 16/18.  But the two crucial games failed. I also win first alternate player.  Greens takes third spot on 11/18 points and with it second alternate player.  I made the qualification very hard, I also provided the wisdom for this protégé.  Practice I had told him.  I have won five consecutive tournaments.  But I cannot make it.  Congratulations to Edwin for living up to his promise.  But I promise, it will be harder next time. The pot may have broken at the doorway, the last straw may have broken the camel’s back.  I will keep it very hard.  Next time , it will be very very hard. I have resolved to clean the rough edges.  Next time, it will not be easy.  I quote Ralph Waldo, “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail”.

Pregnant Expectations

She walked into the hall to murmurs.  With the head of state, the chief justice, the speaker, the cabinet, MPs – all the arms of state – all in attendance.  The diplomatic corps, protocol officers, journalists of all shades and opinions, all protocol observed.

She carried a black suit case – the court of arms emblazoned on one side.  She grinned broadly to the anticipating congregants.  Dressed in black and white, she is visible.  She is enviable, as this is the first time in the history of Uganda that the budget will be read by a woman.

Mabibi and Mabwana

After the national anthem is played, the speaker calls the house to order and makes a few remarks.  He now invites the star of the moment to her act.  Namirembe Syda Bumba then walks to the podium and stuns the audience.  Mabibi na Mabwana.  This is unprecedented.  She opens her budget speech in Kiswahili.

Poor Syda

Mr.  speakers Sir, I beg that the house dissolves into a committee of supply to receive the budget of FY 2009/10.  The finance minister proceeds to read her budget. A slip here and punctuation there.  She actually pulled it off well in the end.  There were moments of oohs and aaahs from the audience.   Deep into the speech, some members could not help it.  They dozed off into the afternoon siesta.  Ms Nabira, woman of Kampala was nudged by a colleague, into attention when the camera was trained in her direction.  For a others, the eyes where too heavy.  They snored away happily. What do you do with  the tropical heat and a full tummy. A recipe for a nap.

Winners

So, what is in this budget.  Roads.  It is time the ministry of defense ceded the top budgetary allocation spot to another ministry.  This time, the Ministry of Works took the apple.  The roads department carried a whooping trillion shillings.  The country has had quite a rough time with roads; unbitumenized, pot-holed,  infested, hmmmmm,  with gulleys.  Actually, some of our rural roads are seasonal rivers.  The bridges get a nod as well.

Poor Allen

No taxes.  In this daunting time, in this era of a conflagrating world economic downturn.  There will be no increases in the local tax base. Ms Allen Kagina must now plug all loop holes in the tax administration.  She must improve efficiency in the system and yet cut the cost of revenue collection to make money this financial year.  She loses in this budget.  Her work is now cut out for her.  However, she could do with a new law.  A friendly law that boost compliance.  She must move away from the comfort of the traditional large tax payers, and move into the informal sector.

Pombe for all

More pombe.  For those in agriculture, especially those farming for the breweries, it is time to make money as duty on locally produced inputs has been lowered.  So we can now happily drink Eagle lager and Senator.  What’s more for the guys who break their back in the village everyday, they can access loans at favourable terms. A seven year repayment period for loans is a winner for our farmers.  They can also benefit from a refunded and expanded NAADS.

Education for all

The minister also put big smiles on the faces of Schools and educational institutions.  VAT has been abolished for this sector.  So you could build more schools, so UPE and USE can gain ground and take root in the coming years.  So there is no reason for absenteeism in schools.  So proprietors can earn more money.  So administrators in government schools can have more money.

Green Budget

This budget (burned) Kaveera.  It also banned the importation of second hand fridges and computers.  So the carbon footprint of Uganda can improve with less emission of Persistent Organic Pollutants.  So Uganda can reduce global warming.  The people downtown are in for a difficult year.  If their livelihood depends on the trade in used electronics, then they better strike deals with the Muyindi on Luwum and Kampala roads who import brand new.

Elect NRM

It seems the framers of this budget have their eyes set to Elect Kags 2011.  The No new taxes,  Business as usual posturing is surely a welcome relief for businesses.  The focus on roads will create jobs in rural areas where the construction will be based.  The sweet music to farmers.  The more money to schools through low taxes and a consideration to civil servants in a 5% salary increment is a vote winner.  Okay, the cost of living has gone up owing to the depreciating shilling against major currencies, the rise in costs of fuel etc.  But salary increment leaves a good feeling.  We may say, the Minister is cautiously inflating the economy to stimulate it and mitigate against a decining world trade.  But putting money in the hands of peasants 12 months to an election can not be lost to an observer that Syda Bumba is preparing the grounds for the re-election of Kags.  Enough written.

Orphaned Budget

Even the best dancers must leave the stage.  Therefore, Mabibi na Mabwana she concludes, to an uproarious audience.  She had accomplished most difficult part of her pottery.  But she the budget is orphaned.  She forgets to ask the house to adopt this budget.  The spotlight can be consuming. 

The Right Honourable Intervention

The Speaker  saves her blushes.  Since she as asked along the speech, for adoption of this and that.  She is in order.

Four years ago, a young man opened the door and bust into the office.  Dressed in black trousers, white shirt, a matching tie and an infectious smile.  He was very smart. He walked to a chair and sat down, savoring his new surrounding and the attention from new people.  This is Tom Okirya our new sales executive,  Carol, the sales manager introduced him to us.

The immediate task was to find a sobriquet for him.  This is important as the passage into acceptance in TEA.  Our Baptist, the old man was away at the time.  When he returned we had observed enough of Tom to for the Kamulian to mention without hesitation.  Pastor.

Tom becomes a pastor owing to his firm observance of Christian lifestyle.  Later Pastor Deya.  Pardon me old man, Pastor Deya is quite distasteful.  But the rule is, a sobriquet gets to your nerve.  The bad taste is the background to joining the club, becoming part of the family. 

We also learnt of Tom Elvis Ochola Okirya, a mouthful of a name.  But, thanks, Pastor will do fine. Okay.  Tom is okay too.

Time moves pretty fast when you consider the routine of the office.  Targets, plans, presentations orders, commissions. Or the luck of them.  But time has moved so fast that we begin to notice a certain shift in the Pastor’s routine.   You have to see the computer screen saver to understand the current blowing away the good fellow.

The screen saver captures her in a temperate climate.  Snowy, heavy clothings, but… yes..,.. and the infectious smile. Have you noticed how a smile lightens even a tense situation.  It is good for the heart I am told.  Exactly, we now noticed Tom is warmly, his heart warmed by that smiling face.

Clearly something is happening to Tom, and it has to do with the matter of the heart.  As the new year broke this year, Tom lets the cat out of the bag.  Maybe, not exactly, but through slips here and there.  Anyway the point was being made that the good Pastor had been smitten by love bug and that he was in trouble as the young beauty had captured him completely and now she was resolute in delivering him to her parents for the final benediction.

It was inevitable.  Tom had to say it. On a Monday afternoon, he called me aside and sought my presence to witness the Okwandhula as the Baruli say, his marriage in a traditional ceremony in Nakitoma to Suzan Mwebaze, the damsel who now holds the pulse to his heart.

The short message came. It was D-day.  It said we were to assemble at Bugoloobi Church of Uganda to depart for Nakasongola.  However, I could not make it to Bugoolobi on account of another travel arrangement at the office.  So Saturday 18^th went down folklore in Nakasongola  as the day the bachelor from Eastern Uganda braved the rigours of travel, risked the  dangers in the wildlife and the audacity of love to pick their very own daughter.  The inimitable Suzan.

The men in Kanzus, the women in Busuti and Gomasi.  A beautiful spectacle.  We boarded our cars  and commenced at the head of a humongous convoy, sidestepping the morning traffic jam in Wandegeya, Kalerwe and Bwaise.   Finally, we emerge at a petrol station in Kawempe and savour the Kampala – Gulu road.

Telephone.  Caller, please assemble at Migyera trading centre for breakfast and to change into the party clothes.  We’ll,  I am dressed.  We made it to Migyera one and half hour later!!!  Shock!! shocks !!!  Food is ready.  At UGX 5,000 for fish and matooke, the food here is priced beyond the means of the locals. More, so than what Kampala offers.  This is amazing as R. Kafu is two stones throw away and Lake Kyoga beckons in 30 kilometers. The hoteliers here set their eyes on the long distance travelers and tourists.  The locals must tread deeper downtown to afford some food.  But the kobe meat is cheaper, this being in the cattle corridor. Anyway, the katoogo was off the menu as the early Kampala traffic had depleted the stock.  So I settle for chapati (well done), omelet and milk tea, for UGX 3,000. 

Shock number two.  As Tom’s entourage trickle in, a car at a time, over ten of them.  So do the ladies, rushing to change into the requisite traditional clothes, the busuuti, gomezi and the men, into the Kanzu.  On these occasions, the notion of time is lost to our women.  It is enough that putting on the gomezi is frustrating to the men, but the mannerisms of the good ladies change accordingly.  They must now walk at snail pace, one hand holding the innocuous gomezi, handbag hanging on the other arm.  The catwalk starts.  The idea of time is lost completely.

After an agonizing three hours of unwinding, undressing, dressing and snail walk.  We now board our SUVs, sedans, pick ups, vans and zoom ten kilometers away.  We arrive at Nakitoma village.  We have arrived to witness Tom wrestle Suzan away from the boys of this village, and take her to nirvana, to everlasting happiness.

We park the cars and converge under a mango tree.  In Lugbara we call him ojio, otherwise omwogezi, the only man allowed to intercede for Tom.  He takes us through the sensibilities.  The women must kneel when our hosts greet us.  The men must stand, etcetera.  Villagers emerge to behold the mass of immaculately dressed people.  Where are they from?  Ahha!!! They are from Kampala.  They cower.  They watch from a distance, some whispering, gestulating, giggling etc.,

Now is the hour of reckoning.  We troop, single file, in two lines, one male and the other female. We make way to a gate.  Christian music is playing,  three tents have been arranged.  Two tents filled to the seams.  If you know what I mean.   They have come to  see the man Suzan is going to marry.  They are welcoming their in-laws.  They are glad that this Saturday will be very colourful and generous.

So, we stand in the line in a scorching Saturday Sun and wait.  But no one comes to welcome us.   There is a clan meeting going on and no visitors are allowed.  Meanwhile, the excitement is palpable. Beautiful ladies in dazzling gomezi dart to and fro.  The men can not help it.  They drool knowingly, the Old man is besides himself, the general agrees that this village is something.  There is this particular lady, she catches my eye.  She has personality, character. She walks with an aura of a queen.  She is beautiful. 

Over thirty minutes of waiting in the sun.  You got the feeling it must rain sometime in the future to cool this hot day.  It then happens.  We see a bevy of beauties, emerge with baskets.  They gracefully make their way to the lines.  Then they inoculate, they actually said - vaccinate us so we can not infect the hosts.  After a while, she steps up to me. She is smiling.  She picks a paper, safety pin and ….. !!! She fixes the picture of Tom and Suzan on the breast pocket of my coat.  Ditto to the end of the line.

We are now safe.  We are ushered in to our tent.  We stand for a short while and then sit.  The drama has long started.  We have afande, corporal etc, who guide us through the occasion. The introductions, senga is difficult to get.  She must pretend not to know us until she is appeased.  Okay, not that way.  They will bring forth many sengas, until the one – owensonga comes to acknowledge Tom.

The interlude of music - local music, traditional music plays in between activities.  But I can not help it.  The Baruli must be true Ugandas.  Their lexicon is an imbroglio of words from Buganda, Bunyoro, Luo Busoga, Lamoghi.  Theirs is a hybrid language.  The dance is runyege.  And the food includes Kalo (cal) millet bread common in the north, and eastern parts of Uganda.  They have luwombo.  I now understand the militancy of the Buruli against Buganda.  They do not quite belong in Buganda.  They are a different, unique people.

When the senga finally acknowledged Tom, a stream of ululation filled the village.  We ululated to thank her for not denying Tom.  We now waited with bated breath to see her.  Before Suzan could come, her sisters preceded her.  In a way, it is a display of beauties for the bachelors to espy.  This family is demonstrating to us the availability of more damsels.  But today we want Suzan. 

The clouds crack, and rain descends on us.  We are safe in the tents, but the poor girls getting on with the show are drenched thoroughly.  They bear their cross majestically.  Sitting meekly as the rain swept their make up and ruined their hair.  The rain abates and the show continues.

Susan finally comes.  Her choice of gold and red is fantastic.  She has adorned her face.  She looks like a pharaonic queen.  She is beautiful.  Tom is truly a lucky man.  God agreed.  He opened the sky again and drenched Suzan.  It is a baptism.  An initiation into a new life.  A life with Tom for good, and for ever. 

I travelled to Kenya over the easter weekend to enjoy a scrabble tournament and tour the Kenyan rift valley (soon to come: My Easter Kenyan Odyssey). On the Akamba bus, there were quiet dicussions about Migingo Island by some  passengers.  But the animation in their arguments is lacking.  This reflecting the general public mood in Uganda, where the matter has been left to politicians and technocrats to amicably resolve.

On arriving in Nairobi, the newspaper headlines is dominated by the reports of the thawing relationship between the president and the prime minister, then Migingo.  Why is the Ugandan flag flying on the island?  Why are the Kenyan fishermen on the island paying taxes to Uganda? And many more questions. The animation is consuming.  A call for drastic action on Uganda is made by sections of the politicians, including war.  The president’s action on Migingo is being sought with many commentators lampooning Mwai Kibaki, calling him a weak president.

Agitations
In Kiserian, where we camped for the scarbble tournament, Kenyan players, seek my opinion on Migingo with many claiming it as a Kenya Island and asking Uganda to lower the flag and withdraw the police and military units from the island.  The mention of Migingo gets people’s attention, and the ensuing conversation takes a marked direction, an agitated state of mind is clearly visibly; finger wagging, contorted faces, rising tones, widening  eyes.  A fight, not yet, but the people are clearly prepared for it. The accepted mindset on Migingo here is clear.  It is a Kenyan Island and Ugandans have no business being there, period. 

Schedules
If the truth about this island be told, we should revisit the Constitutions of Uganda and Kenya, which details the border points of the two countries. In the schedules that map out the countries, it is agreed that the border in lake victory run in the northerly direction in a straight line along the pyramid island.  The pyramid Island clearly lies in Kenya according to the schedules of the two Islands. But there the schedules are silent on another island, Migingo, which lies west of the pyramid island.  This Island clearly lies in Uganda.  Migingo therefore can not lie in Kenya.

Global Warming
But Migingo Island comes to the fore owing to global warming and the activities offshore in the last decade, which has manifested in the dwindling levels of Lake Victoria.  This has meant that many islands on the lake, incliding Migingo have gained ultitude, and in the case of Migingo it’s strategic importance.  It was the smugglers on the lake who gained this knowledge where they included the island on their circuit. Later the Revenue Protection  Services, an anti smuggling para military outfit under now Major General Kale Kayihura, learnt of the island and followed the smugglers to break their back.  At the time, their was no bilateral tension as the activities of RPS had a mutual benefit to Uganda and Kenya.

Moi Exits Kenya
But the politics in this region has changed. President Moi, who was the leaqder of Kenya at the time RPS was operating has left the political scene. A new wave of political despensation has swept Kenya since 2002, with political leaders in the country making and breaking their election promises, new corruption scandals emerging that has dissaffected the Kenyan populace.  Public frustations have now soared to new heights.  Matters are not being helped now by new revelations of corruption, the scourge of post 2007 election violence in a year of famine in parts of the country.

It appears convinient for politicians to create avenues for people to expend their frustratiosn.  Migingo is a perfect excuse.  Media reports carry stories of politicians working up the youths against Uganda.  Their no sympathy for Uganda. The youths have taken the rhetoric against Uganda literally, they uprooted 100m of the railway line slippers in Kibera slums, effectively cutting off the economic life line to the hinterland, including areas served by the raily system in Kenya itself.  It is self defeating. 

Church and Warfare
It appears the Migingo controversy has also found  home in churches, where it was reported a religious meeting in Nyanza province sat to draft a resoultion to government. They  advocated for war to resolve this impasse.  In fact police had to deploy on the muhoroni road to Kisumu, to disrupt an assembly of youths who had taken the message their leaders and where bent to stop the traffic of goods to Uganda. Some commentators have sized up the military capability of Uganda and concluded that the country has not won any wars even when they are in a perpetual state of conflict.  Thy cite the failed Operation Thunderstorm, the percieved humiliation in Congo by Rwanda early this decade etc.  Their conclusion, Kenya can beat Uganda hands down in a war.

A plethora of Organisations
However, if the domestic politics in Kenya was troubled that much, should Migingo offer the pill to cure an internal disease?  For a start, a war with Uganda is unnecessary, as the Migingo case can be resloved through bilateral or even regional initiative as Paul Kagame, the Rwandan president told us this week on a working visit to Uganda.  Already, we have the East African community??? Then a plethora of Lake Victoria organisations - Lake Victoria Fisheries Organisations, Lake Victoria enviromental Management Program, even a Lake Victoria Urban Councils etc,..who work under the aegis of EAC.

Risky Business
It is true Kenya offers Uganda and other countries in the hinterland  a passage to the sea, an important economic life line. But is also true that Uganda is Kenya’s leading trading partner, and the country offers Kenya the route to lucrative markets further afield in Southern Sudan, Western DRC, Rwanda, Burundi, Central African Republic all the way to Angola.  Whereas Uganda can chart alternative routes to the sea through Dar-es-Salaam, Kenya can not afford to lose its markets upstream.  In order to grow their presence in Africa, many Kenyan business have set up post in Uganda whence they hope to penetrate the continent.  You have to wonder what wisdom Kenyan politicains have to want to destroy that strategic relationship.

Small Fish
Migingo is small fish, President Kibaki’s silence is a loud and luadable message.  Keep quiet. Stop fishing omena.  Go for Nile Perch.  Uganda is more importantb than a whismical Island .

Stoct taking
After stock taking, it dawned on Kampalans that the time was now to right a wrong of so many decades.  The original Nakivubo war memorial stadium is now taking shape.  With the parking yard burnt down, now is the time to take on the mighty Owino market.  Burn it down so that we can now have the parking yard for all the fuel guzzling SUVs to park for the banene to enjoy an evening or weekend respite without the tensity that is the arua around the stadium today.

A better place
Kampala will also be a better place.  Thinking of the traffic jam?  Yes, with a recalimed Nakivubo, the jam that normally starts on Namirembe road and infect the whole city will reduce by a factor of three.  We can now arrive in time for everything.  To reach the taxi, park, the bus park, the office, the shops, upcountry and even out of the country.  We will reclaim three quarters of lost time that is consumed by the jams.

Delirium
That is a good thing. Asking how, time is wealth, is it not? Now, with the added time the productivity of the residents and dwellers and visitors can be expected to match the reclaimed time.  Measured in economic terms, we can now double our productivity.  The overall contagion of the inferno on the economy in real time will generate gross domestic product manifold, using last year as the base year.

Good for business
With the improved terms of trade, we will add another five years on the life expectancy in Uganda as people will reach the hospitals faster to get treatment, leave the bar fast to hit the sack, get to that ATM faster to replenish their wallets, eat better food - which will not decay on the trucks, all thanks to unjamming the city.  Our womyn folk can reach the hospital and find the nurse has arrived on time for her to deliver that bundle of joy. 

A message from the mountain
It is good feeling.  Behold thee mortals in Kampala, as the dust settles in Nakivubo, there will arise a great saviour that will deliver thee to the promised land.

A whiff of the gas from the bowels (E kinyapo)
You must emerge from the reverie now.  For if you do not you will remain firmly in the annals of day dreaming.  As the embers died down that fateful dawn, the traders resolved to rebuild their lives (literally).   Keep the prize away from the hyenas.  The wails and mourns had attracted the hyenas hmmm!! as well as certain people whose idea of redevelopment is skewed upside down.  The traders remained on the ground rebuilding their shattered lives.  They spent the night and the day nailing this and hammering that, that for someone who saw Nakivubo three days later could not believe the fire story.

Crying more than the berieved
The political machine swung into action.  FDC chief camped in Nakivubo and offered loads of building material.  Then the celebrities did their thing, as a Social Responsible thing to do, Chameleon offer millions so that Bobi Wine offered tens of millions.  Mukwano offered millions and a certain bank, waived the loans traders had taken. In between many well wishers offered their token of goodwill and prayed for the matter to rest.  But a one seya, who made his mark by fraternising with the folks in Owing and their ilks in Kampala was in for a shocker.  He arrived to ridicules and heckling. Finally, some one through a pair of shoes at him.  Harraaam!! the seya picked up clean pairs of heels and beat a hasty exit.

Grand Entrance
To put matters to rest. To stop this small thing of: Sh 100K, I mean tens of millions. The old man, he of the Ssabagabe distinction, the holder of vision and the omnipresent, enduring leader of this republic made a grand entrance.  I want this circus, this nonsense to stop.  He offered a billion shillings.  The shear weight of that offer put to rest any lingering intentions as the maestro had again proven his superiority.

Trouble is, he meant that money to come from a kitty that supports NAADS, a government/donor partnership to uplift the lives of farming communities in Uganda.  So the optimism can not last forever, that is if the traders can understand the ramifications of digging your hands in the family cookie jar.

Kampala was on fire yesterday.  The parking yard for Nakivubo war memorial Stadium caught fire in the wee hours of yesterday morning and raged for six hours.  According to press reports, millions worth of goods and more millions in cash was lost in the inferno.  The government has now instituted a cabinet subcommittee to look into the cause of the fire.  They will await the police report after investigations into the causes of the fire.

When we awoke to TV news of this fire, the anguish on the faces of the traders was to much to bear. Lost livelihood is what ringed loudly.  The risks to our economy, our country when finally computed, will ring in to billions of lost revenues, but the ramification is skin deep.

Lost Livelihoods …and Revenue

With close to 1000 people out of jobs, in this era of the credit crunch, the country stands to loose billions in revenues.  Many of the traders lived out of Uganda and contibuted significanlty to their local economies.  Therefore, the risk to educatFire disaster ill-preparedness

This fire comes two weeks after Nakumatt and Molo fires killed more than 150 Kenyans. The The EastAfrican joint report on the region’s ability to fight fires makes a sombre reading. Uganda is not prepared for an inferno.  Woe betides us if any fires flared in our city.  Well, the story was vindicated as the Nakivubo fire as affirmed.

The head quarters of the fire fighting institution, the police fire brigade happens to be a stone’s throw away from the Nakivubo scene.  They arrived at the scene 90 minutes late according to press reports.  At the snail pace of 5 centimeters per second the fire truck took forever to arrive.  Yet when they did, there was no water or foam or both, and the trucks were too few to be of any importance to put out the fire.  So they called for reinforcement. Firefighters were to be the knight in shining armour. Unfortunately, the fire company could only look angazi in the face of a fire out of control.  There is no access road, there is no water, too many crowds, the fire fighters claimed. Like the police, they were toothless as the fire was beyond their control.  According to the police spokeswoman, speaking to CBS radio, some action took place and some goods were salvaged.  The looters were stopped from having a field day. That response came a little too late to stop the fire.

Conspiracy theorising

So what caused the fire?  Tongues begun to wag.  A bus company has been given the Kirussia side of Nakivubo stadium to redevelop into a terminal, in a four year UGX 12,000,000 a month deal by the stadium management committee.  Having no access to the parking yard, some people are now claiming that the bus company could have started the fire to rid the place of the traders and create the important entrance.  The bus company deny this claim. A picture in the New Vision showed a police officer pointing at a hole in concrete, suspected to be the point where the fire was introduced.  It was a blackened hole, apparently recently blasted through the concrete walls of Nakivubo stadium. Was this arson? Who could have done it?  Then the claims that a blust was heard before the fire begun.  Could it have been a grenade lobed through the hole? Kampala does not go o sleep these days.  The night life around the city is alive 24hrs, again with improved security around the country, buses travel aroun the clock.  It is therefore possible to hear a loud bang at night. But the explosion could also have been the result of power outage.  Enough said.

We have to go back in time to understand the suspicions of the traders.  A decade ago, I used to shop for my wardrobe at a shop on Luwum Street. Maurice, the shop owner one day told me of the threat to his business.  The landlord had asked them to vacate the building.  However, the shop owners needed more time to relocate.  One Monday morning, the traders awoke to a grim sight.  The building was razing to the ground; and there was nothing to do to save the merchandize.  Maurice had luckily, taken the threat seriously and had got a shop on Wilson road.  A short while later, trucks ferried materials on the sight and construction work commenced in earnest.  Alarmingly, there was no police investigation as to cause of this fire, well, at least no reports were published.

In the years that followed, many dilapidated buildings on the street met the same fate; tenants asked to leave then an inferno.  Does that ring a bell?  The police will investigate the causes of the Owino fire, if to assuage the public anger, but as the traders are licking their wounds, we will wait for the report.

In the wrong place at the wrong time

In the late 30’s, the British Colonial government gazetted a swamp at the foot of Old Kampala, Nakasero confluence into a National Stadium, to welcome the veterans of the first world war.  It was called Nakivubo war memorial Stadium.  It was the only one of its kind in Uganda and would offer the avenue for the locals to cool off their steam.

The stadium sat on five acres of wetland and would comprise the complex and the parking areas around it; for the population of the city estimated at 10,000 at the time, would fit in nicely and the upper class would not have trouble parking their cars.  When Idi Amin Dada took power, the area around the stadium was an inviting place for hawkers and vendors of merchandise.

 An idea was then mooted in 1972 to turn it into a market.  An obscure Adhola man, common at the place gave it the name; Owino market.  So Owino as we fondly called it grew into an amorphous establishment that came to define the life on the fringes; a microcosm of the national character of Uganda. 

An unplanned business settlement where the rules of the jungle reigned supreme over establishment.  Pickpockets, vagrants, hawkers and vendors and prostitutes and… a kaleidoscope of cultures and character, all seeking a livelihood thrived.  But people were happy as everyone got something in this market. The pick pocket, the bargain seeker, the discount seller.  Anything from agricultural produce, clothings, upholstery to electronic goods mostly second, pirated and stolen found a ready market.

(coming soon, why burning the market is a blessing in disguise)

In the last two weeks, two momentous events happened in Uganda.  The leading parties started what many people now view as political manouvuering  to capture or retain power in 2011 Ugandan elections.  First off the block was, Forum for Democratic Change FDC), whose name suggests that no change of democratic credentials has come to Uganda.  Indeed its leadership is composed of leaders of NRM who have jumped ship.

FDC held a delegates conference in Mandela National Stadium east of Kampala where the party Col.  Dr.  Kizza Besigye defeated Lt. General Mugisha Muntu, former army commander of the UPDF to retain the party presidency.  With over 800 delegates attendinjg this function, it is not lost on political watchers FDC has a powerful mobilization machinery.

Takinfg the cue, H.E President Yoweri  finally made the cabinet reshuffle that had lingered in the grapvine for over six months.  And what a reshuffle. We saw the appointment of a first lady, also MP for Ruhama county of Ntungamo district to the Karamoja portfolio.  We saw Syda Bumba, transfered from Labour to the all important Finance docket.  It is the first time in Uganda that a first lady is a Minister, forget that hers is a junior portfolio.  It is also the first time that a women has been appointed a finance Minister.

These are not simple appointments.  It is a political chess game where the master has his eye set on victory.   There has been a lot of realighnment in this reshuffle.  The removal of ex-officio MPs from cabinet vis  Salim Saleh, Dr. Ham Mulira and Dr.  Suruma; the demotion of vocal local government minister Lt.General Otafiire to Trade and Industry from Local government etc. The retention of Vice President Prof. Gilbert Bukenya and security minister Amama Mbabazi means that an electoral cabinet is complete.

The president has created a formidable machinery for other FDC, DP, UPC, JEEMA, PPP and other parties to contend with.  And yet in the last two years, the present has promoted young officers in UPDF, and the police.  There is yet another story on army reshuffles in today’s issue of The Daily Monitor . Whereas these are routine exercises that should not excite anybody, as the army spokesman has from time to time reaffirmed, a clear trend is forming.  The older, tried if tired officers are not supple enough for the political dispensation.  You need young and vigorous men who are in sync with the needs of the future.

The President could not allow FDC glow in the victory of a successful election.  So in terms of the media capital, he has quickly placed NMRo in the limelight.  Every talk show, newspaper, TV stations, bimeeza is giving the president valuable mileage over competition.  This is important for sustaining the the momentum for the 2011 election and stifling the voices of espexcially FDC which had attempted to steal the show.

In some quarters, the first lady is expected to bring investment to Karamoja in a manner her predecessors could, She has the eyes and ears of the big man remember. That expectation has the potential of returning a huger Karamoja vote for the movement.  But Karamoja has always voted movement, what could now be different? It is unclear now, though beyond the mystery, The EastAfrican’s magazine artcle this week by David Kaiza suggests - Keep the old lady in tow.  She is known to defy her husband especially regarding her ambition to run for MP.  She is also known to offer ideas on touchy topics contrary to the guidelines set by the party. 

The most telling of all the appointment is the elevation of Syda Bumba to the powerful finance ministry.  This move is a winner for the women vote.  IT is a first in Uganda.  This move will also change the mindset in Buganda.  Buganda has more cabinet bost than any other region other than the west. To give the powerful post to a Muganda, coupled with improving relation between Museveni over the land bill, we are expecting  a more favourable Buganda attitude to the movement.

It is important to win Buganda to win the country.  To appoint Mrs Bumba, thought to be a sister to Ahmed Seguya, the bush war army commander of NRM will heal the haemorrhage and bring the region back in the NRMO fold, an important move to win any national election in the country.

Where is UPC, DP and others?

She is gone, gone for over two decades now.  Her name, simply Joyce.  Variously Joy, Aiiko, Happy: okay a similar joyful sobriquet.  She died a painful death.  I saw for a time, a short time; her misery in her eyes, her life, her suffering.  She was young.  Very amiable, very beautiful, very promising.  She was the first victim of HIV/AIDS and represented the trilemma the disease paused to us.

She is my sister.  A primer who our dad loved dearly.  Our grandfather loved her so much he called her his mother.  For an old man, it was the ultimate expression of affection to a child and this signifies an important posturing.  A mentoring inrecent speak to play a crucial role in the clan.  However, fate would now rule in a completely different direction.

As Joyce blossomed to a dashing beauty, the politics of the country was taking a turn for worse. Especially for Lugbara, seen in the country as henchmen to Idd Amin Dada.  So Tanzania People’s Defence Forces and the groupings of  libearting soldiers descended on WestNile and drove the Lugbara into the then Zaire (now Dr. Congo) and Southern Sudan. 

The disturbance thrust her into Zaire.  For a sensational beauty; chocolate skin, dimples - you understand - she was a hotspot.  The war paved way for her to traverse that vast country.  She travelled deep into Congo.  She went to Kisangani, Gbadolite and ended in Kinshasha and joining the society of the high classes.

The thrills of high living knows no bounds and Joyce enjoyed it to the full.  We all do.  Do we not?  But along came the mystery of a disease.  It has the combination of sicknesses.  Fever, loss of appetitie, atrophying skin cells and a cocktail of other complications and stigmisation.  The treatment of this sickness, she was advised was seek the forgiveness of people who so loced her, but whom she had forsaken; she had been away from home for over five years.

The traditional spiritualist beseeched her to go home and make peace with her clan; for the clan missed her and they wanted to see her.  In African spiritualism, the clan is a powerful centre on which the lives of people is centered. So in the first rainy season of 1987, Joyce made the imperiloius journey of travelling over 2000 km from kinshasha to Arua.

Offude woke up to an amazing discovery that May morning.  The story of the return of the prodigal daughter spread like bush fire around the valleys and hills of the of the village.  The news of the strange disease also followed and people wre eager to see the lost one.  When the clan council sat to receive her, the patriarch was shocked when Joyce made her case.  Amvile denied ever wishing any evil on his grand daughter and suggested that she visit the hospital for a qualified opinion on her affliction.

It was also decided that her sibling would nurse her to full recovery whence she would settle down in the community. The next morning, Joyce and Madira went to Arua hospital where the girl was prompt;y admitted for medical examination.  She was admitted into a special ward where people where people with serious sickness were admitted.

When it occurred on Madira that his sister was suffering from SLIM, the new disease that conscricts people, he lept in alarm and jumped throw the window into the road, running wildly to deliver the sad news to the clan.

He cursed the day he qwas borne, crying that his siter had killed him.  It was known in the 80’s that contact with a person suffering from HIV/AIDS was a licence to die.  And that he had earned his death by nursing his sister. 

The clan sat to consider this sad turn of events; and on advice of the medical authorities, arranged to receive Joyce.  After a week of admission at Arua hospital, Joyce returned home to await the inevitable out.  Death.  Poor girl returned to an uncertain future.  The nights were long and the days longer.  Many of her sisters and cousins avoided her like the plague.  She was truly alone and frightened. Her only companion was her grandfather, who having lost his sights, could not fathom the physical condition of his granddaughter.

The demands on her was great.  Having weakened hopelessly, she needed nursing.  Her own brother was too distressed to face her.  So one morning, the sad news was announced that Joyce had left us to join her ancestors.  Her mourning was muted.  The old women crying that such a beautiful child would have been a great service to the clan.  They wished to see her children.  Her grandfather mourning the passing of a child before her time.  She should have outlived him so that she could to bury him.  For a child to die before her time is such a calamity to befall the family.

It was now time to bade farewell to the departed girl.  As the her final resting place was prepared, mourners gathered.  But they could not dare reach the coffin.  Everybody peered from a safe distance.  Lest the disease should jump like  a tick on the onlooker.   When the grave was done it was time to lay her to her place.  A spectacle unfolded.

The mourners refused to touch the coffin and hosit it into the grave.  No ball bearers, no body.  In fact people run for dear life, avoiding the misfortune of being picked to bid farewel to a fallen sister.  The entreaties of our elder, my uncle to respect the dead fell on deaf ears.  Finally, Mzee Primo, the elder made a most startling decision.  He told the crowd, who now stood several metres away that he would bury his daughter, alone.  The crowd murmured something about the mental standing of this man.  Then a miracle happened, two drunken men stepped forward to help.  And so it entered in the Offude folk lore that Joyce was buried by three madmen.

Madira and Mzee Primo are alive today, and they are a powerful testimony that, HIV/AIDS can only be transmitted through other means other than contact with the sick.  The courage of Mzee Primo is a shining example that the sick can receive care without the risk of infection.  His story helped the community around Muni to better manage HIV/AIDS cases.

I wish Joyce lived long enough to benefit from advances in the care and treatment of HIV/AIDS cases.  Maybe Ariaka would have shared her love.

May the soul of Joyce rest in Eternal Peace.

They are over 17,000 people; young, old, mostly black, you could see some white face; others on wheel chairs.  They have assembled next to game stores on Lugoogo by-pass near Nakawa.  Some, like Stanbic Bank came in teams as big as 500 members while others came in as individuals. They had responded to an important fitness whose top price is UGX 5,000,000 (USD 2600) top prize and some bragging rights.  

 

A glance at the island of the by-pass and either side of the road; four-wheel drive cars, some new, others not so new.  The cars are Toyota Corollas, Carinas; Japanese  SUVs while a Mercedes, a BMW can be spotted hither and thither: a sure sign that
Uganda’s mainly middle class and bourgeois had congregated.  The scene on the road looked more of a grasshopper festival.  A galore of yellow stretching over a kilometer, simmering in the morning sunshine.

Should you join the mass, you meet an old friend last seen 10 years ago.  Some are greying; clearly aging, others are overweight, the folly of too much work (sic) and good living.  Many hold key positions in government, academia, the corporate world while some have ventured into private business.  The police chief was in attendance.  In the humming sounds you must speak in overtones.

Many of them optimistic about their winning prospects despite the telling sign of the spindly legs on oversized waist-lines.  Of course others have what looks like a trim body.  But many Uganda’s do not exercise regularly.  They are wearing yellow sleeveless shirts bearing the registration numbers; have strapped a running chip on their shoes and happy to be there.  I ran as contestant number 2186.

Some runners are warming up.  Running up the road and then down the road.  They are taking this race very seriously indeed.  To some runners, it is a way of proving that they a class apart from the onlookers. Yet it could be some show of bravado.

So when the MC announces the eminent START.  The moving mass edges closer to the starting line.  I also move along and meet the Stanbic Bank team.  They are all fired up, but keep together; the herd mentality I guess.  You know safety in numbers is an important motto in this circumstance.

The MTN marathon is starting in five, four, …., fire.  The MC tells us over the public address system and off the marathon race goes. It is followed by the  half marathon race and…..  At 7:20 am, the gun goes off for the last race, the 10km race and the sea of humanity jostle.  The stampede is incredible.  You have to shove to run, stagger, fall; pick yourself up and run.

At the first turn, left into Jinja road, I think the leading pack have made a mistake. Instead of turning onto Wankoko and join Spring Road, the fellows run right ahead on the Lugoogo hill.  I am told MTN had made last minute changes and now runners must contend with a tougher course.

Up the hill in quick strides and breezing towards Uganda Management institute, two things hit me.  An encounter with open sewers at the institute.  Now, I thought we were lucky with National Waters and Sewerage Corporation treatment plant on spring road, but this, this can not help.  The stench depletes the needed oxygen to make the stretch to Zain round-about.  I also notice that the runners have taken the dual carriage road so that vehicles have to pack on the kerbs. 

You can hear the curses of the taxi drivers while other passengers remark about the spectacle.  Uh! That one is too fat to complete the race.  She will soon collapse.  Ayaa ayaya!!! That one must be sweating in the pants.  On and on as you ran past the frustrated motorist the comments keep coming.  To disprove the skeptics, the hormones surge and you trudge on even faster.

Suddenly, there a mad rush.  Somewhere opposite the Electoral Commission, runners panting and scrambling.  For water. Give me water.  The courtesy take too long.  So they descend on the watering point and tear package of Rwenzori mineral water to shreds, pick their fill and run on.  I ignore the water.

We now turn at the traffic lights into Kitante Road (Yusuf Lule).  This hill is stiffer and longer.  I change into quick steps while breathing easy, swinging the arms close to the body. The masses soon fill this road and suddenly it is a yellow flow up hill.  For many people it is a challenge to forget.  So they stop running and start walking.  I overtake many runners as the stretch rounds about the Garden City shopping mall. 

Again change tact and use the long stride.  I run smoothly upwarsd.  Many people ignore the yellow cones and invade traffic on the right lane.  The motorist must be bewildered.  But they behave well and stop to allow the wave through. At this point running the mass have become the walking mass.  Some people openly ask for boda-bodas to make part of the race.  Ofcourse that is illegal.  But they take the boda-boda anyway.  A young boy is riding a bicycle with his (dad?) closely behind him.

We now encounter another hill. A smaller hill I thought. The round about at the golf course should be an easy take.  It is not.  Instead of rounding and proceeding smoothly on Kitante Rd, the route is diverted via Fairway hotel.  This is cruelty.  I can not believe this.  At this point my body is weakening.  I feel some pain in the lower back.  I slow down.  What a waste.  But this hill, I must conquer.  There is no point in walking.  I could as well stop and take a boda-boda; and be done with this race.

A number of runners must be feeling my pain as I see many with hands on their hips. Phew here and phew there.  Anyway, I trudge on until the slope on Lourdel road.  We descend back on Kitante rd and continue to Mulago round-about.  This must be 5 km, half way the race.   Then take Kiira road, climb the hill next to Uganda Museum.

Someone remarks that the race is won.   Kiprop had done this distance in under 27 minutes.  A world record it is.  There is no point in competing.  Just run to cross the finish. We now approach the Kayunga stage.  I see a muzungu holding a bottle of water.  He offers it to some runner who declines it. I edge closer to him and take the bottle of Rwenzori Mineral water.  I gulp some and spit it.  Gulp a little and swallow.  Then pour the rest on my head to cool the heating body.

At this point, my thighs give up.  There is pain in my thighs and I want to give up the race.  Not now.  Pain in the lower back.  Now, I have pain in the thighs. It is now a race between the body and the mind. I slow down.

 Despite  slowed down, I still overtake people who have given up running altogether.  They are now determined to walk the rest of the distance.  To them it must a walking race.  My pace is now reduced to a few steps per second.  I should maintain this pace to the finishing line.  So I trudge on, running slowly. 

On reaching the Kiira road police station, I turn to the left, onto Lugoogo By pass road.  I now feel a little energized.  But there is another problem. My insole is sore.  It is aching.  This reduces my pace further, but I resolve to run on to the end.

We run past Kololo SS and onto home stretch.  It is now a painful experience as my troubles is unrelenting.  I run.  On seeing the beckoning finishing line;  I haul the body a little. I gain some pace and run.  Raise my hands up in triumph and cross the finishing line.  I stop.

My body is engulfed in heat.  I am burning up.  Where is the Red Cross? I cry out.  No answer.  My whole body is on fire.  Run on.  Warm up.  Keep warming up.  Someone yelled to me.  I can not run.  My body is on fire.  I feel dizzy. This yellow  mass is dizzying.  I find some place and sit down.  A minute.  Two. Three minutes and I up.  Give me water. Where is water?

I finally spot people moving to the Lugoogo Tennis Club area.  I follow them.  Moving slowly up this hill and finally I find some water.  A good Samaritan gave it to me.  I pour the water on my head.  Gulp some. Spit and drink the rest.   More water please. I find some place to rest.  Plunge into a mess of  packaging material and rest.  Aha!! I espy Nduume.  A scrabble player protégé who is volunteering in this marathaon.  He brings plenty of water bottles.  I wash my face.  Douse the body and drink.

I regain my composure.  The body has cooled down. I walk around the area.  Move to the tents.  I see the corporate tents.  Toyota Uganda, Stanbic Ban, MTN, Bank of Uganda even Ministry of Education and sports tent.  The tents are serving breakfast.  Mostly fast foods and carbonated drinks.  People are taking pictures.  They are having a good time.

I walk further and find the Red Cross.  It is a huge makeshift paramedic assembly.  Blankets on the slim mattresses.  People being massaged.  Some grimacing in pain.  Others, bottle in handle having their thighs, calves and backs being massaged.  It is my turn.  I have pain in the lower back and the thighs, I tell the assistant.  He applies some liniment on my thighs, press, press.  Lie on your tummy, he implores me.  I oblige.  He presses the lower back, raise my legs and massage the thighs again.  These guys must be enjoying myself I you know what am thinking, especially doing this to certain people. 

It is over, move out and wander around the tens.  Meeting people I last saw at campus.  It is a good feeling.

You must give to Philip Besiimire, Aggrey Kagonyera and Eric Van Veen for the audacity of thinking outside the box.  The trio is reputed to have muted the idea of a fun run.  But the Uganda Athletes organization decided it should be a marathon.  

The MTN Kampala marathon is a living testimony that if you match thought with resources, the world is at your calling.  From a single curious event five years ago, MTN Kampala marathon has evolved into a Ugandan sub-culture.   The mothers in northern Uganda can afford maternity services courtesy of the proceeds from registration fees, the effect on the MTN brand is tremendous as the event deepened its value into our psyche as a nation.