Amos Kajoba, Amin, Museveni and Jan 25 that yielded inglorious twins

Author, Gawaya Tegulle. PHOTO/FILE

What you need to know:

When you consider that there were big names and big papers such as Wafula Oguttu and Charles Onyango-Obbo at The Monitor, plus William Pike, Conrad Nkutu and David Sseppuuya at The New Vision, etcetera, you begin to understand how highly Amos was rated and how special he was.

Not many people will remember Amos Kajoba, a slight, sharp, sly fox of a rare kind: cunning but not sleazy; crafty, but not manipulative, and possessed with penetrating eyes that missed nothing.

A fox able to snarl at the birds one moment and launch a sweet charm offensive the next, enough to assure them that they were safer in his paws than perched high up the tree. The kind of fox that could have thrived with equal ease – and distinction – in the savannahs of Congo, the sands of the Sahara or the snow of the Arctic Circle.

Scant wonder then that although he was editor of the smallest newspaper, The People, owned by the Uganda Peoples Congress (UPC) and headquartered at Shop No. 02, Uganda House, Amos had, by the time he died in September 2000, served as chair of the Uganda Newspaper Editors and Proprietors Association (UNEPA), a powerful media lobby that articulated the interests of the media fraternity.

When you consider that there were big names and big papers such as Wafula Oguttu and Charles Onyango-Obbo at The Monitor, plus William Pike, Conrad Nkutu and David Sseppuuya at The New Vision, etcetera, you begin to understand how highly Amos was rated and how special he was.

I met Amos in September 1995; he was a friend of my elder sister Rose – now Dr Rose Gawaya, my employer then – who was alarmed that my reports were reading like novels, instead of typical periodical reports of a non-governmental organisation. Amos took me under his wing and helped me take my first steps in the Fourth Estate, as I had, at the time, not yet attended journalism school. I thought Amos rather extreme in his criticism of President Museveni who, back then, I firmly supported, much to Amos’ chagrin.

Take one occasion in 1995, when the President made a mistake (Amos’ view) of mounting a bicycle – I don’t recall whether it was to launch some bicycle brand or just showcase his riding skills.
Amos ran a photo montage of the President on the bike, contrasted with one from 1978 of former president Idi Amin also showcasing his bicycle mastery.

“Who would have thought that history would repeat itself with such exactness?” ran the caption below the picture. As far as Amos was concerned, January 25 had yielded inglorious twins. I often pressed him to explain.

“These chaps (!!) took power on January 25, 1986,” he finally said, as we munched on what must have been the oldest chicken (a tough, tooth-breaking affair) in Kenya. We’d crossed into Kenya one evening after a workshop in Rock Hotel, Tororo, in January 1997.

“But they knew how counterproductive it would be if they announced a takeover on the anniversary of Idi Amin’s military coup that toppled Milton Obote (January 25, 1971).” They had to wait another day, Amos said, to avoid what would have been an unpleasant, unending comparison between one that was universally considered a dictator par excellence and the new man who was holding out as a revolutionary and liberator.

I believed Amos on the date bit; but found myself unable to consider that anyone sensible could, in any wise, compare Amin and Museveni. Turned out I met Amos in the last five years of his earthly journey. He breathed his last at just 38 in August or September 2000, and I, having had the pain of watching my mentor deteriorate in Mulago hospital, was left with one more duty: to be the lead pallbearer, as we carried him out of All Saints Cathedral, Kampala, before taking him to his final resting place in Lugala, near Kawempe.

Time has proved Amos right. The unspeakable atrocities Ugandans witnessed in the days of Idi Amin have been replicated with clinical precision by the Museveni administration. There was one remaining distinction: Amin was a Field Marshal – a five-star General, while Museveni has four stars. But that gap may soon be sorted out, thanks to a move now gathering momentum, to promote Gen Museveni to Field Marshal.

When that happens, like the animals in George Orwell’s Animal Farm, we shall move our gaze from Amin to Museveni and back to Amin, and we shall be none the wiser as to the difference between the two.

Mr Tegulle is an advocate of the High Court of Uganda     [email protected]