I had a bad dream, that I had been taken away by men in a drone…

I had a terrible dream the other night. I was walking on Kampala Road, navigating the gaping manholes on the sidewalk, when a drone screeched to a halt next to me. The door slid open from the inside and a man dressed in all black jumped out and grabbed me by the right hand.

‘You must come with me right away,’ he said, as he dragged me towards the open door.

“Why?” I demanded to know. “What have I done?”

‘The problem with you,’ he said as he threw me inside the van, “is that you talk a lot of English.’

“I’m afraid I wasn’t aware that that constitutes some form of crime,” I countered, but I was stopped mid-sentence by a sudden movement of the man’s hand that commenced in the far reaches of the van and terminated on my left cheek. 

The man must have been a physics graduate, for the action produced a flash of light in my eyes, a burning sensation on my face, kinetic energy that threw me back into the van, and a gravity-defying weightlessness that, in my sleep, seemed to send me into an even deeper slumber as the van sped away. 

When I came to, I was in a small, dimly-lit room strapped to a small wooden chair. My face still burned from the imprint of violence and the room stank to the high heavens of pain and suffering.

Slowly, I ran my tongue inside my mouth and counted my teeth. Despite the efforts of Mr Physics, they were all still in place. 

A lanky man walked towards me, pulled a chair noisily across the floor, and sat very close to me.

“You…you…you are breaking the law, sir,” I said. 

‘Oh, sorry,’ he said, pulling his chair back. ‘I had forgotten about the social distancing SOPs. He added: ‘The coronavirus is real and we should be careful so that we do not lose more lives.’  

“I meant the kidnap, sir,” I said. “You kidnapping and torturing people, it is against the law.”

‘No, no, no,’ he shot back. ‘That is different, Mr Kalinaki. We are trying to keep you safe, which is why we have brought you to a safe house.’

“What are you trying to save me from?”

‘Enemies of the country’s progress,’ he spat out. ‘You think everyone is happy with our progress?’

“Sir, I recently flew Uganda Airlines,” I volunteered, but this submission was cut short by a vicious punch to the stomach.

‘Just tell us what you know,’ the man said, and I will keep you safe. I will make sure no one ever punches you again.

“With all respect, sir,” I said, “no one has punched me in more than 30 years so I believe I have been doing quite well on that…”

Thud! Thud! Thud! The blows landed with increasing viciousness, on my knees, back and head.

‘Tell me what you know!’ the man bellowed. ‘Who are the enemies of our progress?’

“Can I speak freely, sir?” I whimpered.

‘By all means yes,’ he said.

“Then untie me.”

‘No, you see your freedoms are not absolute,’ he said. ‘You can speak freely after all your mouth is not tied up and I was careful to slap only your cheeks. You think I couldn’t have punched you in the face? Do you know what Obote’s panda gari people would have done to you?’

“I appreciate your kindness, sir…”

‘Exactly! Amin’s people would have disappeared you completely and also! So please speak openly, without fear or favour. Who are the enemies of our social economic transformation, steady progress and the eradication of the seven killer childhood diseases? You can list them in any order; I am liberal like that.’ 

“Sir, I have nothing to declare, except my…” again I was cut short, this time by a bucket of icy cold water thrown at me by an unseen figure that, it seemed, had been standing behind me all along. 

‘This is the problem with you elites,’ the lanky fellow said, grabbing me by the throat. ‘Even when we provide you with clean drinking water and immunise you, you still can’t appreciate anything…’

“Okay, okay okay sir, I cried. I appreciate! I appreciate! You are the winner!”

‘Anha! Now you are being objective,’ he said as he walked to the corner of the room and flipped a switch that turned on a bright but noisy fluorescent tube overhead. 

‘I knew you would see the light, so let us get started. At that very moment, my alarm went off and I was jolted back to reality. These nightmares! 

Mr Kalinaki is a journalist and  poor man’s freedom fighter. 

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@Kalinaki