Mr Daniel K. Kalinaki
A few years ago, I was asked to contribute to a church-building project in a village somewhere in rural Busoga. The request threw me. Busoga remains one of the poorest places in Uganda and parts of sub-Saharan Africa.
If you wanted to shoot a poverty-porn documentary, you would find suitable characters for every sub-genre. Malaria? Tick. Low access to water, power? Check. Low health coverage? Present. High teenage pregnancy and school drop-out rates? Yes, yes.
In my mind, there were many ways in which a little money could go a long way in improving lives in the village and a church building was not at the top of the list.
As brick-and-mortar real estate goes, it is a terrible investment. Save for the odd Mother’s Union meeting or choir practice, a typical church building is used mostly for one day a week. I gently inquired if the design could be tweaked into some kind of community centre that could host youth classes in the week and maybe even other denominational prayers on different days to increase the return on investment, but the answer was no.
A church isn’t just a building; it is a symbol and a mark of respect – and not just to the heavenly deity generally, but to a very specific one, and the adherents thereof. Fanta, sprite. Apples, oranges. Unable to change the ways of the Holy Spirit, I ghosted out of the conversation and left it to those with deeper pockets and faith.
This story came back to me as I watched with bemusement the public debate over the unveiling of the new All Saints Church in Sembabule at the weekend. Many people seem to have taken exception to former cabinet minister Sam Kutesa’s decision to commission the building of the church after he was successfully treated for throat cancer in Germany.
Apart from questions about the provenance of the money, why, many asked, not build a cancer ward or contribute to one instead of building a church? Rather than seek the right answers, this is one of those moments where we are better served by formulating the right questions to enable a meaningful discussion on local philanthropy.
To do so, we must first remove the most interesting but distracting bits from the conversation – Mr Kutesa and the allegations of corruption around him – and assume that the church was built by the good folks at Tororo Cement out of their sheer generosity, or maybe even by a foreign missionary group.
Some questions are simple and pragmatic. Should poor people in Sembabule (and Busoga) be given things they need, like good hospitals, water and schools, or the things they possibly like, like mosques and churches? Do they know what they want? Should they be consulted beforehand?
Basic social services are supposed to be provided by the government. What, apart from running 10-kilometre “marathons” should we do when they are not provided or when what is provided is sub-par? Should those of us who can afford to pay for private schools and hospitals or demand for improvements to the public ones? How should we navigate silly government policies like banning co-payments at schools when they are grossly underfunded?
Other questions are a tad more philosophical. Is it okay for people accused of corruption, for instance, to give back to the community? Should that buy them forgiveness? Do the same standards apply to a bank robber who uses the proceeds to help his poor relatives? Does it matter whether those gifts or reparations are in the form of handouts, vanity projects, or functional things like schools and hospitals?
If they give back in the form of the latter, do these have to offer free services or are they allowed to charge user fees? Should an aspiring MP who buys an ambulance for their constituents take it back if they vote for someone else?
Would you rather have a corruptly wealthy person who gives some of it back to those he stole it from, or one who becomes wealthy cleanly but leaves all of it to their favourite dog? Should people be allowed to bequeath money to things close to their hearts, like parks and museums despite the other many pressing needs? What are the contours of giving back and how do they compare to not taking anything away in the first place?
As you can probably tell, there are no straight answers but plenty of questions. In my view we need a lot more local philanthropy. To unlock it, we need to find smart ways to derisk it, then nudge it into more progressive ventures.
Mr Kalinaki is a journalist and poor man’s freedom fighter.
[email protected]; @Kalinaki
