The Easter that was…

Ki Uganda Kinyuma: Jesus died; Jesus was resurrected from the dead. Kampala remained unmoved. The potholes unfazed. The iron sheets, yes, our father who art in the State House finally heard our prayers. He wondered why we did not just ‘report’. If only Ugandans could learn the art of reporting to our father, all things would be sorted. That Ugandans have a habit of not reporting the thieves. That at least, we can always go through the son, and whatever we ask through the son shall always be granted. . 

At this rate, Uganda needs a class monitor, someone to note down the names of the noise makers, the trouble rousers, then this list can be submitted to our father who art in Nakasero.

As we worked through Easter, one of our masters decried the state of entertainment in Uganda. All along, I had the impression that Kampala was the king of the party, the maker of all fun. One of our masters argued on the contrary. That one can only find shisha pots in Uganda, and if one needs to engage in fun, they must fly to Nairobi. That was a shocker. What have you people been doing late in the night? Working? Even on weekends?

Kampala people have been masquerading as though they are enjoying life, kumbe there is nothing to show for their fun. Now what shall be left of our city? Even the one thing we held onto has been dismissed as non-existent.

It turns out, in Kampala, you will always find that which you are seeking for. For those who sought not to find fun activities, they found them not. Kampala is not your average city. It requires special glasses. It requires one to have some attention, some calmness, otherwise, you could miss everything in plain sight.

In the same city, you will find mountain slayers having hikes day in, day out. But in the same city, you will find people without the slightest idea of hiking. Everything happens in this city, and everything happens not in this city. In Kampala, the rule is that if you know, you know. You must be humble enough to seek, and when you seek, you shall find.

Speaking of road accidents in Uganda, since when did the default root cause become over-speeding and drunk driving? Uganda police must be the most efficient investigations body in the world. With every accident, the root cause is concluded on the spot. No scientific proof, no investigation of the state of the car, nothing about the state of the road, everything will always point to over-speeding. At this rate, we may have to lend out our efficient investigations department to the world to help fast-track some airplane investigations. In Uganda, every witness is an expert of diagnosing the root cause of the accident. From the witnesses, the area chairpersons, the members of parliament. We must be the most educated nation when it comes to finding root causes.

Soon, it has also been noted that we shall earn a prize for being able to identify our former schoolmates. The rate at which everyone is changing in Uganda is perplexing. People are changing colour, names, everything is changing. One day someone is a bartender, the next day, they are appointed a spokesperson for the great movement. At this rate, we may not have exes anymore. Because if you dated her as Nambi, and now she is Natalie, is that the same person?

Speaking of death, what is this thing that we just never overcome? What is this thing that always sobers us up? What is this thing that always humbles us? And with death comes the vigils and funerals. There is always that one drunkard, a drunkard or two. The one that always spills the secrets, the one that says the truth everyone knew, the truth that everyone always wishes could be made public. You will hear these kinds of statements; “Now you Ssegujja, you stole the widow’s land. You Nalweyiso, that kid of yours does not belong to the family, it is the neighbor’s kid”. And then the conversations on the sidelines, the conversations by the fireplace. It is hard to replicate the Ugandan culture, the nuances are something that many foreigners miss. The ability to know that a Ugandan can say, “we are fine” to mean “we are not fine”.

Now that Jesus has resurrected from the dead, we hope that miracles will soon happen in the city. We hope that if we cannot work on the potholes, at least, we can compensate with the Kampala City Carnival. If we cannot fix the potholes, we can find some enjoyment in the potholes. We can have a day where we also get to shut down the city (like the famous Kololo truck). We can have that one day when we can dance close to the State House. We can have that one day when we can make some magical speeches about littering in the city. We can dance and sing about our pains. If you cannot fix your pains, mock them, make fun of them. And we can finally say; “Ki Uganda Kinyuma!”

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