Ofwono Opondo, Museveni and the big lizard in Hajj’s porridge
She died many years ago, that aunt of mine; but she really was something else. That is how she managed to remain a Christian yet married to a staunch Muslim. That was back in the day when there was absolutely nothing wrong with a man whipping his wives. One or two might even call it the good old days when sparing the rod spoilt the wife.
That Hajj… let’s just say that like most men, he liked his food and didn’t take very kindly to bad cooking, delayed service or worse, a missed meal. In such moments he could be particularly vicious.
So at the height of the holy month of Ramadhan, in 1980, auntie found herself in a dilemma when, just as the porridge for the Iftar meal that evening, a big daddy lizard housed in the grass thatch of the kitchen, perhaps in a display of acrobatic skill to his family, made a backflip that didn’t go too well. He landed in the porridge.
He made one final frantic maneuver to roll aside and make a heroic jump, to no avail; instead only managing to sink deeper and, as he rolled, lose his skin completely.
Auntie, keeping a keen eye on a hungry Hajj, who was in prayer on the verandah and expecting a bowl of hot porridge immediately after, thought quickly. She knew she’d be whipped properly if a very hungry Hajj finished prayer and found there was no porridge – the man didn’t gladly suffer fools! She calmly scooped the dead lizard out.
When Hajj emerged from prayer, his bowl of porridge awaited him, steaming steadily, just waiting to be taken. He happily made quick work of it. He was mildly concerned that his wife wasn’t taking any porridge at all, but explained it away: maybe she was not feeling well. Whatever. He was hungry; he took her portion too and congratulated her upon another excellent delivery.
A more spirited husband should have liked to inquire why a woman who had fasted with him wasn’t keen on taking what she had prepared and had in fact, without any lawful excuse, lost her appetite completely.
A week or so ago, government spokesman Ofwono Opondo took to Twitter to sing the praises of Nakasero Hospital where he had been rushed after an attack of diabetes. We thank the Lord that “OO” as we fondly call him, recovered.
But social media citizens found it disturbing that the spokesman of the government of the Republic of Uganda hadn’t been rushed to a government facility for treatment, at say Mulago, Kiruddu or wherever.
Uganda spends hundreds of millions of dollars every year on treatment of government officials abroad – or in private hospitals like Nakasero, Case, Kololo, name them.
So while the President brags about how his government has built hospitals and performed better than his predecessors Idi Amin and Milton Obote, the truth is that neither the President nor his officials actually use the hospitals they have built. Obote, when he was shot in the head in 1969 recuperated at Mulago; our leaders today wouldn’t trust Mulago mortuary even with their corpses.
And while the President sings about his investment in education and his own wife is the minister thereof, none of the President’s children, or those of his senior officials has graced a government school. They stick to the church-founded schools – Namilyango, Budo, Kisubi, Mwiri, Gayaza, Namagunga, etc; or the purely private ones like St Mary’s Kitende, Seeta High, Taibah and the like.
In the medieval days in kings’ palaces, cooks had to be the first ones to eat of the royal food. Then food tasters would also eat to their fill. If they didn’t die then the food was safe for the sovereign to eat. If they refused to taste the food, the implications were obvious.
Now that the President and his government can’t partake of their own cooking even at gun point, if spirited citizens check the porridge, they’ll surely find that it had a big lizard in it, all the time.
Mr Tegulle is an advocate of the High Court of Uganda
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