Post-Christmas thoughts: A walk to Entebbe via Museveni’s Stanligrad

I hate ending my years on a low. For the past many years, I have run the equivalent of a bucket list. It is something called ‘the impossible list’ borrowed from Joel Runyon, a blogger. Thus, when I am confused about the next steps, when airs of boredom come around, I simply open the impossible list and attempt one of the items. This year, the vote landed on the walk from Naalya to Entebbe.

Of course, the madness was fuelled by a female friend, aka Baby Auntie. If I had known, I should have practiced more ahead of this walk. Because that walk made me question things. Somewhere in Kitende, I almost abandoned the walk. The legs had become stiff. But the good news is that we made it. In about 8 hours, we had registered our 44.5 kilometres. Now I respect the Namugongo pilgrims. Those people are not a joke.

But what did I see on this journey? Everyone is a worker in Kampala. As in, everyone is a mukozi. My friend somewhere along Nasser kept talking on her latest episode of Samsung. And all eyes were on the watch. Everyone looked suspicious. But then, I realised that this is the same thing that happens to a black face while shopping through the Western world. The Black face represents potential crime. Huh, was I playing out these same biases on my fellow Ugandans? I saw the thing at Queen’s way that has kept us in waiting for all this time. That ka-thing is a joke!

There were many people walking to their workplaces. Remember, everyone in Kampala is a mukozi. We all just work in different ways. But no wonder gyms cannot really work on this side of the world. Most of us, our daily lives are a gym themselves. When we got to Zzana, I thought we had arrived. Because in my mind, it was Lubowa then quickly Kajjansi, Kitende and boom, we would be in Entebbe.

But the beauty is this walk was fully BUBU. A one Herbert Okello supplied the shoes. To be honest, I was also dying to showcase my shoes. Then the breakfast was enjoyed somewhere before Kajjansi. And the legs were soothed at that public beach in Entebbe. Oh yes, and I slept at a dormitory in Entebbe. Via Via is the name. I also realised life keeps getting calmer the farther you get from Kampala. Then the traffic police’s audacity at stopping people. And the annoyance when people insist on having a ticket instead of sorting things the ‘Ugandan way.’

Nonetheless, I still had the night out at Irish Bar. And the bouncer wanted me to take off my Masai Shuka. I told him; ‘gwe boss, this is part of my costume.’ It is either the Shuka or nothing else. He bulged. But I also think the black face always approaches another black face with suspicion. Mbu we have been treated so badly, we have also learnt to treat each other badly. I will ask my friend Joel Mukisa the words for this phenomenon.

And before I leave this walk, it was also a reunion with my nursery school mate, a one Pippa. We went to Sunshine Kindergarten Makerere together. I know most of you cannot locate your nursery schools (just like I struggle to locate Shimoni). But Sunshine still stands. Yes, I also went to Makerere. Pippa is probably the most intelligent Ugandan when it comes to all things data. She was sharing perspectives from Sweden and then left us with a new line; ‘would you imagine…?’ It was in response to one of the waiters who had chosen to shout over us instead of addressing one of our friends privately. Pippa took her through a coaching session. See why it pays to send our children to good schools. And did I forget a one Muhimbo, yes that fool was also present. He’s like the King of Entebbe (will wait when Ssevo finds out).

That was the walk to Entebbe. It left me with more questions than answers. Anti mbu that is how to appear refined. But which questions? I wondered for example, what is the Ugandan experience on this most important road (hope it still is)? Is there any deliberate thing on this road? Nothing. Only CJ’s has tried to tell its own story on this road. But the chaos in Kampala also led me to believe something. That it is intentional.

That perhaps the President is allergic to order in the city.  Order does not work in his favour. As a former guerilla, the President is more comfortable with chaos than order. Remember that ka speech of how he would have dealt with Americans had he been Gadaffi? Mbu he would have turned Tripoli into Stanligrad. From the look of things, the President is turning Kampala into Stalingrad. He is building a turf that is incompatible to forces opposed to him.

We promised ourselves that the next time we walk or drive to Entebbe, we should carry our passports and national IDs. Who knows? We could leave Sevo and his stalingrad. But do not blame me. These are mere post-Christmas thoughts. Njogeza mere! In some good news, your pastor is about to script a story around the number 8. All Ugandan pastors are numerologists! 
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