Mr Daniel K. Kalinaki
Every Friday someone in our 'village' WhatsApp group posts the telephone numbers of the police officers on weekend duty. I don't know the identity of the poster, how they obtain the information, and what else they do in their spare (busy?) time. Sometimes I imagine this person to be a police officer doing this as part of community policing. Other days I visualise a well-meaning local resident who somehow receives this information and shares it with the rest of us out of good neighbourliness, unhealed past trauma, or both.
A few times I wonder if the poster is, in fact, a very clever criminal who somehow receives the telephone numbers, then randomly alters two numbers before sharing them. Or simply makes them up, since there is no way of authenticating the message. This way, when she (only a female crook can be this clever, this cunning) and her gang strike, and one calls Corporal Okurut in Najeera at 3am in the morning, the ring-ring of the phone call is answered by Angela in Nansana.
Rather unamused at being woken up at such an ungodly hour, she insists she is not a police officer, says some unprintable things about the caller's mother, then hangs up. See, what's shared on the WhatsApp group are mobile phone numbers. Each name usually has two numbers listed next to it; one is a Uganda Telecom number that, one supposes, is the official line, and which is either always off or never answered. A few people who find themselves in the unfortunate position of needing to call these numbers -- say when confronted by robbers, a fire or an accident -- have vouched for the people at the end of the line and their ability to marshal some kind of response.
The phone might go unanswered for a few times, but eventually Corporal Okurut or Senior Superintendent of Police Byamugisha wakes up and answers. Or doesn't. If they do, what follows depends on any number of variables. For instance, whether the attackers, in case of a robbery, are armed or not (hint: the bigger the number of attackers and better armed they are, the less likely a response will be forthcoming; the police officers also have young children).
It also depends on whether the caller's location can be accurately described and found without the usual daytime urban landmarks or boda boda guides. If you are under attack and hiding in a closet or under the bed and can't speak without revealing your location, good luck with your grunting, oohing and aahing. Our village is about 25 minutes by car from the Fire Brigade HQ in downtown Kampala at 3am everything -- fuel, driver, keys, tyres, radiator etc -- being constant. In case of a fire, that might be just enough time for one to evacuate the house so that it burns down without fatalities.
Because no one is coming. There is a relatively large local police station only 10 minutes away by car, but I haven't seen any fire tenders there and I am certain there aren't any fire hydrants within miles. He is a human being like you but now for you what do you want Afande Isabirye to do, him as him? The posts on the village WhatsApp group invite no comment, although I suspect that many members save the message or jot down the numbers -- and hope to never have to call them.
My neighbours and I have accepted. Anything can happen. Back in the primitive old days the police hotline, 999 or 112 if calling off a mobile phone, went to a central switch which dispatched help depending on need and location. I also hear that in some countries, distress calls can be traced if the caller is unable to speak and police units can then be directed to the street number and address. And if one suffers a fall or any other type of medical emergency there is a number to call that brings around an ambulance with trained first responders and kit to try and patch one up while they get them to a hospital. Can you imagine such a waste of resources, and how boring and predictable life must be!?
We in Uganda live life in its full raw and unpredictable form. This is perhaps what the founding fathers envisaged when they crafted the national motto, For God and My Country. But that is fatalistic and doesn't capture our fighting spirit, resilience and daily drama. Which is why your columnist humbly proposes a deft amendment to, Uganda: Where Anything Can Happen - and Often Does.
Mr Kalinaki is a journalist and poor man’s freedom fighter.
[email protected]; @Kalinaki
