It’s not too late to de-escalate the class war that’s brewing

Once, when talking about our greatest fears, a friend said his was to end up in a physical dispute where everyone was against and after him.
He is long departed so, thankfully, that’s a fear he will never have to experience or live through. 

This week on Monday morning, as one of my boda boda guys, Hamza, manoeuvred the traffic to deliver me to my engagement, he suddenly asked.

“Boss, do you know that on a good day, I take home Shs40,000 after paying off everything?” I was intrigued. So, I asked what bad days are like. He responded that even on the not-so-good days, his take-home drops to no less than Shs20,000.

I quickly did the maths – splitting my monthly take home across 30 days and aggregating his daily earnings over a month – and it struck me how we were split by just a couple of shillings. Mind you, I have two degrees, been working for about 10 years and run a decent social enterprise, my face and name have some public recognition, and he calls me “boss”. 

Taking advantage of my silence, he went on, sharing that he was actually thinking about getting a second bike – if only he could afford it. Which is why he was telling me, because he thinks I fit the co-investor bill. I asked a couple of follow-up questions as we rode on and promised get back to him. 

That conversation would have been temporarily shelved in some mental folder, if later that day, the story of Aziz Bashir’s senseless death hadn’t made the news. The facts, as usually happens these days, are a little stirred up but here is what’s been pieced together. That his car got scratched by a Boda Boda – as is won’t to happen in our bedlam – and they couldn’t agree on what was fair compensation for the damage.

That the disagreement escalated to a point where Bashir ran over the offending boda rider and drove off, which prompted a mad chase from the legion of other bodas. When they eventually caught up with him, they executed mob justice on him, ending his life unceremoniously.

Reading that story was heart wrenching. I thought of Hamza and wondered how many close shaves he has had from scratching people’s cars. Mostly, I also wondered if he would have been part of the lynch mob, that had swiftly ended another’s life.

I then thought of Aziz in his very last moments. I don’t imagine he had enough time to reflect on the hubris of class – because that’s really how we got here. In that moment, it didn’t matter what the facts were or who was right or wrong. 

In fact, that incident was only a culmination of systemic aggravations and Aziz just happened to fit the bill of the accused. The thing about inequity is that it can’t be spread around enough to have an equal balance between the haves and have nots.

Inevitably, you can only beget class warfare – whether it is all-out or manifests in spurts. In places where there aren’t enough resources and opportunities to go around, it pays to enforce fairness or even appear to. When you don’t, you unknowingly put a target on the backs of those who are – or appear to be – privileged.

The wretched of the earth can only fight each other for survival for so long. Eventually, they deduce – even subconsciously – that they share a common enemy. Where they can’t find the oppressor, they pick on whoever has a likeness to him and/or her. They also have the advantage of numbers and pent-up anger from all your not-so-subtle disdain for them.

This is what happens when things work for just a few. When those who are qualified for work and contracts start to feel that those opportunities are going to certain people who aren’t like them. It is what happens when the law is applied selectively until people lose trust in the government and its systems.

If and when it comes, Hamza is obviously not going to ride the second bike himself. He might get a brother from his village to come grind his portion in the city as well. They will make money but they know that the conditions could and should be better. Who do you think they will pick on if they can’t take it out on the people in government SUVs?

Mr Rukwengye is the founder, Boundless Minds. @Rukwengye