Mayimuna Amin: On being her own woman

Mayimuna Swaleh Ramathan Amin is a humorous young woman. But you cannot tell that within a few minutes of meeting her. She is one of those delicate souls who are like a flower – the more warmth you apply, the more she opens up.
Only her first name is hers. The rest belong to her father.

She has that languid model look – during the interview at a happening joint in town (she forbids me to give the name), she takes the seat facing the mirror. Not many people can bear to gaze at their own beauty in a mirror for more than an hour.
Some of the most famous blood in this country flows through this 24-year-old’s veins. Seeing a granddaughter of former Ugandan president, Idi Amin, in her waitress uniform, you can only wonder at the struggle young people in her generation are facing.

“Are you going to put this in the newspaper?” she asks, continuing, “My parents don’t know I am a waitress.”
“Why are you working here, anyway?” I ask. For about a week before this interview, there was a bit of back and forth until we finally agreed that she would first get the courage to tell her parents before this story can run (she never got the courage).

“I come from a Muslim family, so working in here and being a Muslim…I turned down a job offer at a posh hotel because of the little pay offered. But, I did not want to just sit at home. Nowadays jobs are not easy; you need connections, and these connections will not find you at home,” she explains.

Her parents are Swaleh Ramathan Amin and Latifa Adam. Her paternal grandmother is Zubeda Amin. “I don’t know if she was wife number what (sic),” Mayimuna quips cheekily, continuing,” There were many of them. But she is still alive, living in Bombo.”

Working as a waitress
There is a glorified image people have about presidential offspring. We imagine them living the high life. For Mayimuna, it was the clear line between hyped dreams and a woman’s needs that drove her to work.

“When I was in Senior Four, I asked a relative for money to register for exams. The answer he gave me made me look at myself in the mirror again. I decided to stop begging and work for myself. Work is not all about whether your dad or granddad is a big man. I just look out for what is mine.”

When I ask if she will quit when her parents register their disapproval, this firstborn of her mother’s five children bursts out laughing. “If they tell me to quit working, I will not. I cannot just sit at home. Maybe if they have organised something better for me, then I can quit. But if you are telling me to stop working, go home, stay at home, and start begging you, it will not work out.”

Mayimuna is not a devout Muslim. With her own way of understanding God, she last went to the mosque a month ago and does not pray every day – only on a few Fridays. Sometimes, she just says a quick prayer on her bed in the morning.
“I don’t know if I understand God the way other people understand Him. I fear Him, but covering yourself or going into the details of the Quran does not mean that you know God more. Okay, God said in the Quran that you should not deal with alcohol, and what (sic). Again, He is the same God who says you have to work (she laughs). So, I have to choose what is better. Sometimes you may do (sic) a sin but in another way, it is saving you.”

In the shadow of Amin’s legacy
All that Mayimuna knows about President Amin was passed down to her by relatives. “He was a good person. He was someone who loved his country and people, and was straight forward. But sometimes, he overshadows my life. Some people call us South Sudanese, and to them it is an insult because we are black.”

We have a good laugh about me being darker than she is. “Guys say he used to mistreat them. Others say he wasn’t a good man, so they think maybe we have the same heart. Sometimes it makes me angry. Even my colleagues at work keep saying Amin did what…what…When I went to Immigration to get my passport, the person who interviewed me said all South Sudanese call themselves Kakwa.”

Her grandfather’s sins are not only imputed on her by strangers. At one time, her boyfriend (now an ex) spoke ill about her grandfather. “We had been dating for two years and in all that time I never told him who I was. One day, as we were chatting he said, ‘’I don’t like those people of Amin. They used to mistreat people. You know, he used to make people eat slippers.’”

She looks at me and we laugh at that one. Lt Col Nassur Abdallah, who was the governor of the Central Province from January 8, 1975 to April 11, 1979 arrested whoever was found wearing rubber slippers in the city. It is rumoured that he made the culprits eat the slippers.

“As my boyfriend was talking, his dad joined us and said, ‘You know, I went to Uganda in those days and they mistreated me because I looked like him (Amin).’ For sure, his dad looks like Amin. They are from the Pojulu tribe of South Sudan.”

The Pojulu, found in the Equatoria region are related to the Kakwas of South Sudan and Uganda.
“You know, sometimes, I don’t tell people where I am coming from. I know if I tell them, those who didn’t like Amin will end up insulting me. When that boy and his father were talking, I was hurt. I said to myself, ‘If I get married to these people and then they get to know where I come from, won’t they mistreat me?’ I became uncomfortable in that relationship.”

Such are the conflicting emotions Mayimuna has to deal with. Sometimes, though, she is happy with her ancestor. “I am proud of him. You know, sometimes you don’t have to be very nice to people. When I watch the movies they make about him – yes, I watch them…I don’t mind – I only watch the good side of him. I don’t see the bad side. In fact, I am planning to watch 7 Days in Entebbe. I hope to join the movie industry so that I can bring out the good things he did.”

A brush with child betrothal
For a woman who grew up in a very conservative environment, surprisingly Mayimuna is currently single at the ‘grand old age’ of 24. It is the norm for girls from her place to get married immediately they hit their teens.

“Actually marriage almost happened to me when I was 14,” she says, continuing, “My aunt introduced her 35-year-old lawyer friend to me as an uncle. I was so happy that I had met a friend who is a lawyer. But then, she said the guy wants me. He wanted to marry me.”

At the time, Mayimuna was visiting her aunt in Bombo. Luckily, she was a regular at Naguru Teenage Centre where the counsellors preached against child marriage. She eventually became a peer educator.
Her father had married another wife so money was scarce in her mother’s home. As she was wondering who would pay her school fees, her aunt stepped in.

“She said her friend would pay my school fees since I was meant to stop in Senior Four anyway. I really didn’t like that thing of getting married at an early age. So, I faced the man – I think he was called Adinar or something – and told him I would not be able to marry him. He was pissed off. Without my knowledge, he had been paying my fees and providing for my needs. And, of course, taking care of my aunt. My aunt and I disappointed each other.”

Mayimuna has no plans of getting married soon, believing that getting married at a young age does not guarantee a successful union.

Curving out her niche in life
Mayimuna, having grown up with her mother, is not very close to her father’s family. She believes though, that everything she does, whether good or bad, is blamed on the Amin family.

“I want to be me. I want to create my own world. I want to separate myself from the family conflicts and the bad image about us. People should see me as I am, as Mayimuna instead of judging me as Amin’s grandchild.’

This is one of the reasons that drove her to work as a waitress. After her Senior Six, she lived with a relative in South Sudan, and worked at Crown Hotel and The Nest restaurant.

President Amin’s large family receives a monthly Shs2m as pension from the government. However, Mayimuna does not look to that money for survival. She supplements her income with some modelling work, which she hopes will pay off. She also dreams about joining the army.

“I want to serve my country and in 2014, I almost joined. I confided in my friend, Angelo (Izama), but he laughed at me. When I told my dad he said, ‘You are funny. Who will marry you if you join the army?’ But, I always make my own decisions, regardless of the consequences, so I still have hope I will join the army.”
She is also nurturing a dream of being a journalist.

Mayimuna the pacifist
Mayimuna studied at Wandegeya Muslim Primary School, Bombo Senior Secondary School, and Mbuya College School. Most of her friends, though, live in South Sudan. Some of them are generals and officers in the SPLA.

“In this industry, you meet many people. So, as I served them - Dinkas and Nuers - we struck up conversations. I still communicate with them on WhatsApp. I do not judge people based in their tribes. Even if a South Sudanese man wants to marry me, as long as he is kind, understanding, and loving, I will marry him.”
At the end of the interview, we have to negotiate the politics of putting her photograph in the newspaper. The negotiations go on for three weeks. But finally…Viola!