Muniini K. Mulera
Dear Tingasiga
The small world in which we live, a crisis in our homeland, is instantly felt abroad, in our homes around the globe. Dr Kizza Besigye’s incarceration, and his evidently poor health, a source of angst and worry, as much in Toronto as in Tororo.
Though we cannot imagine, the prisoner’s pain and suffering, the sleepless nights of family, our hearts are full of ache, our emotions boil with steam, our fears heightened with anger, with every passing moment. Some judge the rulers harsh, whose prisoner that he is. Others judge the prisoner, the challenger of the rulers. The country torn apart, some declaring him guilty, without any evidence tendered, others pleading his innocence, without supportive facts.
Some baying for his blood, others demanding his freedom, peacemakers needed now, more than ever before. First things first my friend, Dr Besigye is presumed to be innocent, a right that he enjoys, because it is his right. This cardinal rule of law, not a favour by the president, but a right of jurisprudence, in lands where justice rules. Sick or not my friend, he must be freed from jail, and tried in civilian court, upholding this fundamental principle, serving the interests of justice.
Trial in the military court, where accusers are the judges, it’s a mockery that dances, on graves of those who died, for justice in the land. When accusers are the jailers, the undertakers are the doctors, the assailants are the guards, the heart of darkness rules. Dr Besigye’s health demands, the most urgent attention, by professionals that he trusts, to do him good not harm. The right of every patient, his station notwithstanding, to know what care they get, and eat without any fear.
The president is a Christian, his wife is Born Again, their daughter a pastor and preacher, Christ alive at Rwakitura. National Prayer Breakfast meetings, annual tradition at State House, the ruler presiding besides, a sombre commitment to Christ.Does Christ sanction the pain, and suffering that we see the prisoner subjected to? He who told his disciples, while seated on the Mount of Olives, that which He expects of us, to do for those with sickness, the hungry and the naked, the thirsty and the strangers, and prisoners of the king?
It’s a perfect challenge for those who proclaim the Lord their Saviour to live and act the Word of Him who taught us well, the great message of forgiveness. It’s a challenge for the ruler, just as it’s for the prisoner, their supporters and their opponents. The flesh resists the message, prefers revenge and pain, on him who threatens our comfort. We prefer a fight instead, much easier than to let go, of grudges and our bitterness. It’s a transient victory that sows a poisoned mustard seed that grows destructive weeds, and ultimate failure for all.It's a journey we have walked, experience at which we excel.
Milton Obote, Kabaka Muteesa II, Grace Ibingira, their story robbed the land, our peace and right to live, united free for liberty. Obote, Iddi Amin, Adoko Nekyon, their fight for power unchecked, the nightmare triggered by them, engulfed many millions more.The lessons escaped the land, with chaos and death the norm, Amin no longer at home, revenge and hatred at hand. They bled and died for what, those who liberated the land, and paved the way for more, the cycle of hatred unbroken.
The stolen election of 1980, another war to end enslavement, in which current ruler and prisoner, were patient-doctor comrades, in a fight for peace and freedom. They saw their comrades slain, and witnessed slaughtered peasants, whose fight they thought they owned, deception yet again. Obote, Paulo Muwanga, Tito Okello, oblivious to history they had made, their fight defined by anthem, of Makerere’s great Hall of Northcote, “We win, or they lose.”
And lose the antagonists did, with no one accepting blame, and pridefully blind to folly, their ears were deafer than stone. Forty years along the journey, the script remains the same, dialogue is not a word, and revenge still reigns supreme, even when Christ is proclaimed. The one who has the guns, believes he has the land. The one whose voice is silenced, believes he has no option.
The spring of patience stretched, the breaking point is reached, the completed break ignites, an eruption that shocks the land. President Museveni, Dr Besigye in a dance at the crater of dormant Muhabura, a volcano, may erupt, whose force exceeds its trigger. Molten lava will burn, all that’s in its path, the innocent and the guilty, the dwellers and the visitors.
This fight is not about them, the ruler and his prisoner, but engulfs Ugandans with whom, they share the air they breathe. The yellow colour that annoys, and the red one that infuriates, emotions ruled by party, not worth the blood that flows.
Hear me you who have ears, and memories of our past, great dreams of a peaceful future, for you and for your children. Call upon the ruler and prisoner, to sue for peace anew, through dialogue of the humble, avert disaster that waits, for those whose flesh is governor. Transparency and full disclosure, Dr Besigye is my brother and friend, about whom my views are known. He earned my respect and admiration, way long before he gained his rightful claim to be our leader in the struggle.
Though different paths we took, in the execution of our struggle, the strategies may be different, but our shared hopes remain, unshakable and in concert. Likewise, Mr Museveni is my leader, in an old struggle whose story, time can never erase. Our paths long ago diverged, over principle and nothing personal. My best wishes for him, for his wife and for their family, remain as sincere as my prayers, for those who share my genes.
My thoughts are with you Mr President. You are my senior in age, but hear my appeal to you, to demonstrate greatness through humility. Our country needs protection, from another cycle of violence. In Proverbs 16:10-15, King Solomon advises against your transgression in judgement. It is an abomination for kings to commit wickedness, for a throne is established by righteousness.
My thoughts with you brother Besigye, at this your greatest test. Hold on to dear life my friend, your country still needs you. Please sing Florestan’s song, in Beethoven’s Opera Fidelio, that he sang with voice sublime, in his awful prison cell: “In the springtime of my life, All my happiness is flown, I dared to speak the truth, And these chains are my reward. But I can endure the torture, I can bear to die an outcast, One precious consolation resides in my heart; The knowledge that I did my duty.”
Mulera is a medical doctor.
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