
I have many puzzles I am constantly solving in my head. I am at that point in life where I cannot define what I am trying to do, but I will know it when I see it. One of the puzzles I am cracking is that of a Ugandan in their 30s. That species has become of special interest to me, for it deserves a name. It cannot be placed. Follow my ka train of thought, you have Ssegy (now the late), who passed away in his 30s. You see, in Uganda, the hardest of things is to make it to one’s 30s with their head intact.
Somewhere, somehow there will be something that will have stolen a wire or two from your head. It will be the deadbeat father to your ka kid, it will be the baby mama that is working your head or the boss who pays less and expects more.
There will be something to mess you. It will be a ka theft in your neighbourhood, or someone asking for a ka kickback for the deal. It will be the music that makes no sense. It will be watching the dumb rise to the top while you hang the rope of hard work around your neck. In this country, a few are sober, a few are virgins. It is messy down here. If you find a sober Ugandan in their 30s, there is a high chance you are meeting a ka ghost.
Mbu, the only way you know he or she is the one in Uganda is if there are more red flags than green. You see the system has flogged us so well, parents are now advising their kids; “munange mwana wange, if he has a ka shade of green, just bring that one we try.”
So as the only serious philosopher in this country, the one who philosophises in the language and messiness of his day, I invite you to come with me on this puzzle of the Ugandan in their 30s. This species raised on dreams, and fed on lies, now finds itself in the biggest shocker of its days. To realise that time is almost gone, and it may never be. But first, we need a name for this species. Shall we call them the ‘survivors? Because to be a Ugandan aged 30 is to be a survivor. You must survive Bebe Cool’s Circumference song, and hope that Diameter and Radius does not follow. You must survive all the storros of how people make money in this city. Because there is what people say they do, and what they really do. Not even your father is going to let you in on his secret. He will beckon you to work harder, but deep down, he knows, there is a ka secret recipe. No one confesses in this country.
That is why I want to become a priest. But wait, that must be a hard sacrifice. Imagine the Christ the King Church Priest. How does he deal at night? With all that people talk about in this city. How do people without hit songs build mansions? How do Ugandans perform all these miracles? Eiiih, oba it is that thing, ‘wulilila buwulizi naye tobuuza…’ So you see, these Survivors have tried everything. They are saving with SACCOs, they have gone back for their master’s degrees, they have specialised in multiple fields. For the first time ever in Uganda, you will find a Lawyer that is also an engineer.
You find a civil engineer, now turned software developer. But the system has said, “byonna mubikole but we will not give you the ka formula.” Mbu in Uganda, whoever stumbles on the formula just goes mute. Anti when you share the ka formula, it can become outdated, and a new one gets developed. One man, one bottle. Shall we? If you get your ka formula, keep mute and do what these Ugandans in their 30s have done best – survive. This is the generation that Destiny’s Child sang about Survivors. We do not really have careers anymore; we have learned to survive. And that is what scares the Wazees. These bu-chaps for whom we have closed all doors; how come they are still here? What do they feed on? Because the survivors have said, we shall sell anything that is there to be sold, we shall swim in any style, if we make it to the other side of the sea.
It is not that the Ugandans are very nostalgic, searching for the oldies, the Mesach Ssemakulas, and all those buschool reunions, no, they are organising culturally, they have fought the same battles. This generation that specialised in nyigos, has been squeezed by their ka country and now they seek solace in all these meetups.
Bandali, Kanjokya, Kololo, all these bars. These survivors are reviving something in them. A light is going off, that maybe, now is the time for them to try their own formulas. The bu formulas of Mitte and Fazzo failed, it is now time to do it the survivor style. A whole new world is popping up, because why would a Baraka seek advice from a Bebe. Wama survivors, go survive, make sense of your context and time.
Postscript:
1. Good things hide and pop up. Can you imagine now I cannot get enough of Afrie’s Teri Mulala. Anti people in this city can seem to muddy the waters, so many psyops.
2. When you are in Nai, there are more secrets hidden in Ujii Power, and Rolex na Smocha than in Kilimani.
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