“This is Uganda”: The painkiller concealing a slow death inside us
There is a tendency to declare “This is Uganda!” whenever someone wants to bring an argument they can’t win to a decisive end. For example, you sit down at a nice restaurant and a swarm of feisty flies arrives with the food, harassing you into making several desperate pleas for pest control.
As your agitation rises, the service becomes less attentive, until finally, with an arched eyebrow and a semi-smirk, the waitress mutters loud enough for you to hear, “This is Uganda!”
And that’s that. She just told you in three words: buy a rope and jump off the branch of a really tall tree if flies bother you that much. If you can’t stand flies, eat at your home, where apparently, there are none.
No one else is complaining, or they are peacefully sharing their existence with the flying creatures – why can’t you? And most importantly, just because you are a paying customer doesn’t mean I have to jump through hoops to accommodate you.
This restaurant will not shut down because one lousy customer is taking their business elsewhere.
A declaration of “This is Uganda!” usually accompanies the end of ugly altercations which would otherwise have been resolved with the application of logical reasoning – if all parties are capable of logical reasoning. Usually, at least one isn’t.
The phrase is used to explain away the lack of important things like courtesy, integrity, common sense, rule of law, customer service and reliability.
You mention expired drugs in pharmacies: “This is Uganda!” You hear that a child was abducted by a man who bundled her into a sack and attempted to flee on a boda. A crowd foiled the escape and lynched him just before the police arrived: “This is Uganda”.
Are you disturbed by the idea of immature fish caught in a mosquito net? This is Uganda. Infuriated by people who arrive two hours late to an event for which they confirmed attendance? This is Uganda. Private cars speeding down the wrong side of the road with a police escort? This is Uganda.
It turns out the phrase “This is Uganda” has the same effect as Panadol; it can be applied to every situation that causes you pain, with little or no side effects. At the same time, no relief is guaranteed, you simply take your meds and ignore the slow death inside you.
The actual malaise for which there seems to be no cure is that we are no longer responsible for our actions or feel accountable to each other. Things are just the way they are because, well, this is Uganda. Take it or leave for another destination, that’s really your problem.
In case you were confused about your geographical location and attempted to make anyone accountable for the mess they have made, relax and realise you are in the land of “who gives a crap about excellence anymore”.
“This is Uganda” has the distinct merit of shutting up all the wiseacres. Those annoying people who want to fix things; the complainers who moan endlessly about how things should or could be. Just remind them where they are and see how fast they eat the rest of their words.
Don’t demand great service or expect a courteous reception just because you are a paying customer. Don’t try and hurry people up, or worse, expect them to respect a queue just because you think your time is precious.
Don’t harass your government for hospitals and teachers, and for the love of all that is holy, lower your expectations for honesty and altruism from your elected representatives. Just because you voted them into office doesn’t mean they owe you anything. This is Uganda.
Ms Barenzi is a communications professional and writer
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