Laying Foundations; the anxiety and hurdles

December 2018 gave birth to an idea. I cannot tell with exact precision how long the gestation period was but what I am certain of is that the labor and delivery heralded new beginnings. The start of what would be building blocks for many generations after us.

In the middle of December last year, an extraordinary meeting sat somewhere in the leafy neighborhood of Kololo. This time though, the venue wasn't a hotel with stars and neither was it a palatable mansion but it was small well kept compound that would accommodate a bunch of people pregnant with big ideas but moving around with empty pockets. Mind you the compound had been secured by one of us who as you would expect by now exploited his relationship with a friend to allow us hang around in his compound. Nevertheless we sat, luckily enough on some chairs that were out of use at the time. For us ‘the now’ didn't matter, what we looked at was the horizon beyond where we stood; the unforeseen future that we only hoped would present with it not what we feared but rather what we figured.

The faithfuls (I call them so because everything has been done by faith) who were gathered in the compound that evening were proud bearers of the Debate Society Uganda tag name. It wasn't a get-together to make merry but what you would term as an Annual General Meeting if you were to borrow the business lexicon.

It is here that we thought of having a high school debate championship organized and facilitated exclusively by Debate Society Uganda. Not that there had been an arid of debate championships before but what we intended to bring to the fore was a very well organized and highly competitive tournament that would still stand even if double checked against what we rate as the world's elite debate competitions. If you had asked me for an opinion then, I would have dismissed us as a group of youth who detest dreaming individually but choose to come together to share the sleep. I was wrong!

In two weeks time, we shall cross the newly constructed bridge in Jinja and descend on the Eastern region of this country to do what will be our second regional tournament after a successful one in the Northern region just a month or so ago. For those who have been following our social media pages, the pictures tell the story but for some of us who have been in the thick of things there is a bigger story which we would rather not tell.

The one moment I will never forget about this program was the conversation I had with our team leader after we had agreed on the dates for the respective regional tournaments. When I asked how we intended to raise the finances (a very huge budget it was) to run the tournaments, this was his response; “Patrick we have to find money in some way, in any way but whether or not we find it the program will still go on.” Unfortunately we didn’t raise the amount we needed but it didn’t stop us from going to Gulu. We shall hopefully be in Jinja the weekend after the next and hopefully to Mbarara in the sixth month of this year.

Our currency of operation has been faith and hope, they have refused to run out and we pray that the tank doesn’t empty soon, because we need them around for some time. It is Robin Sharma who says that when you are inspired by some great purpose, some extra ordinary project, all of your thoughts break their bonds; your mind transcends limitations, your consciousness expands in every direction and you find yourself in a new, great and wonderful world. Dormant forces, faculties and talents become alive and you discover yourself to be a greater person than you ever dreamed yourself to be.

The path we have chosen is one of laying foundations. We are committed to filling the foundation with stone, brick and poured concrete to ensure that it withstands the storms but should the ‘structure’ by any stroke of bad luck falter or waver, it will never be because of a weak foundation.

Blessed week ahead!

Politics, Governance and the Price of Leadership

There are three constants in life; death, taxes and you can all guess the third, politics (you all guessed right). It is written all over, ticks most boxes that affect us, and like a big bully is always stamping authority even in places it is most undesirous, we can feel it and we can almost touch it. For the few who find it nauseating, the options are not many! We have nowhere to hide, like a hound tracking down its prey the domineering influence of politics always catches up.

I cannot attempt to belittle the work of many of our country men because I am aware of the sacrifices made for any individual to occupy these spaces. A place where you are rarely appreciated, accept even those from the lowest economic stratum to toss about your name as if you were a little pet but still accept to remain a servant of the people.  

As a matter of example, when the British Prime Minister was leaving office after seven years of hard work but also of uproar, furore, and the tumultuous decisions, Phillip Stephens described him this way,

“The Tony Blair who spoke to that slightly bemused audience in Sedgefield in the spring of 2004 was scarcely recognizable from the fresh-faced young man who had become his party’s leader a decade earlier. Seven years in Downing Street, the burdens and battles of office and the angry controversy over the war against Iraq were etched deep into the lines under his eyes. His hair had thinned. The grayish hue of his skin had for some time told of stress and exhaustion.”

The truth is that office can wear you out, for those who are unlucky it can even reduce your life span, it can also cast you as a lonely and tired figure well past their sell-by-date.

The past two-three weeks have been unsettling not just for Makerere University but for many other institutions of higher learning. The university has been all about colours and slogans, about affiliation and loyalty, the surprises were not many. The search for a new set of leaders, responsible and enterprising to spur their respective constituencies to higher grounds has been ongoing and it still continues. I will not make mention of the ugly side that the campaigns took because some things are best left in the past but for the greater part will focus on the after period.

Two things have always informed my view of student and youth leadership but also by default any kind of position of service. That first of all we can choose to take these places of leadership and responsibility and make them count but second and most importantly we can use that opportunity to show everyone why it was important that you are in that place.

One of two things can happen when you are elected. You can either be that once in a generation leader whose election heralds an earthquake that alters completely the contours of how the others look at the politics of that position. Alternatively you can be that drab, dreary and spineless leader that we quickly make reference to when we need quick and evident examples of ‘nothing doers’. Some things should not be about politics, they are simply a matter of willingness to learn, focus and intention together of course with a little dose of good upbringing.

Even when the storms begin raging it shouldn’t be much of a concern. That is the moment to display true character, the moment to show your mental adeptness and why it is you and not someone else in that office. In the words of Tony Blair when asked whether he wanted to continue being Prime Minister of the UK after the Iraq invasion that had turned out a complete disaster, he had this to say; “It is always a privilege to do the job. You have to be resilient in this because you have to believe in what you are doing, and, in the end it is for the people to decide.  

If anyone took up a leadership position today we expect their job to be simple, to serve and to simply serve us well. That is the price of leadership and it is not a big ask!

On a personal note, I take the opportunity to congratulate all those that have been lucky enough to take up positions of leadership in the past few days and those who are still waiting in the wings. It is by no means a small feat having a group of people fully vesting their trust in you. We look forward to good service in the coming days.

Blessed week ahead!

Balance for Better; why women rightly deserve a place at the table

There is always something memorable about one’s childhood days. For some it is the games and toys, for others it is the special treatment but for many it is the moments that proved you were the child that you actually are. Calling and you have an immediate answer or crying and a minute later you are in someone’s arms, being soothed and caressed remains among the joys and blessings of being a child.

Growing up has never been an event, it is a process that requires you to undergo a series of transitional rites that take you from one stage to another. My own experience was no different from the rest. The moments that can’t easily go away are those where the privileges and perks that caused much joy over our elders would suddenly be taken away and just like the crowds, we would settle for the normal.

The most pronounced was mostly at dinner as the evenings unfolded into nights. Because of the limited capacity that the dining table could handle, we the little ones would be allowed the licence to roam on the mats (not the carpets because they were a luxury). It is while ensconced somewhere in a far away corner, a good distance away from the table that you would loathe the visitor that came around because ultimately, they had cost you your seat at the coveted table.

 Uganda joined the rest of the world on 8^th March to celebrate the International Women’s Day. It was a day to hold special, to celebrate and honour our mothers, wives, sisters, girlfriends and fiancées. The real purpose of women’s day as it should be is to celebrate women’s history, highlighting their achievements and milestones and not forgetting to use the opportunity to raise awareness about the need for equality. We cannot run away from the enormous value of women in our society today, from the mother who carried you for nine months, bathed you and made sure you slept satisfied to the sister who chose your first date outfit to the wives who have to find a balance between family and career.

Our mothers, sisters, wives and girlfriends have however been constantly suffered marginalization. And this is not a thing of yesterday; it is part of the things our predominantly patriarchal society has accepted to live with at times by omission but majority of times by commission. But we can’t say we haven’t made strides because our great grandmothers, grandmothers and some of our mothers were denied certain delicacies, lived without may privileges, that is now partly a thing of the past, the titles that had been constructed for a certain gender are beginning to be unconstructed and the women are accepting to challenge in the arenas that were recently male dominated, the strides are being taken. The campaigns and women movements are also doing great work in debunking certain myths, unshackling those in patriarchy bondage and freeing the minds of those still held hostage.

I for one didn’t understand the real place of women in my entire childhood; I didn’t appreciate them enough because my surroundings didn’t favour it. In school, the teachers would unashamedly admit that the first place was not meant for girls. The boys would be kept on constant pressure of making sure they outdo the girls. I didn’t bother to ask myself why until it happened one day, a girl topped the class. The day was normal just like any other, the sky didn’t come down and the sun rose from the East and set in the West. It is at my later stage in life that I learnt about how gifted the same way we all are, what a man can do, a woman can do and sometimes even much better.

I will share a simple story. During the 1994 Genocide, Sula Karuhimbi hid and protected hundreds of people in her property and nourished them with food from her field. Using her reputation as a healer, Sula convinced the militia that whoever dares to enter her house will be eaten up by her fetishes. She was an example of courage and humanity, like so many other women in the world. This is just one of the many examples of women that have stood tall in this world and created an impact on the lives of others, they have displayed to those ready to see that you don’t need a certain genetic make up to accomplish certain feats.

 The world didn’t seem to pay attention many years ago but that is no longer acceptable today. The achievements of women stare in our faces wherever we choose to look, they are hard to ignore and we must embrace them.

For many years, women have been pushed away from the table, huddled in a corner away because the men had turned into permanent visitors. That is a thing of yesterday, if the seats are not enough; the men are going to have to push up and accept to share the table with women because that is where they deserve to be!

Blessed week ahead!

The Corruption Conversation is either tired or we are tired of it

On a chilly Tuesday evening in the upscale suburb of Kololo, it is an event that is familiar to those in attendance. One that has outlived the presidential campaign of its chief protagonist even when many thought it was only strategically made for the season.

The territory and location is familiar but unlike previously when we had our engagements in the spaces on the ground floor, this time we had to move a few feet high. No coincidence, it is only those who like to over-think that would relate the nature of discussion expected to the few steps that we were obliged to scale.

There are definitely new faces in the crowd as always, trying to feel comfortable and yet striving not to discomfort others, adjusting to the set up and yet struggling not to look lost. But there is no complexity in all this, just a group of advocates and those intending to be gathered on an evening out, sharing experiences over a cup of coffee. A guest is usually invited to share their experience from far and wide with a group of mostly the young people, eager to listen.

The guest of this particular day is familiar, atleast to the audience. He is not a media darling and neither is he a social media person but he is someone that has appended his signature to numerous decisions, made orders to various effects and sat as an arbiter in tones of cases as a judge of the High Court in Uganda. Justice Yasin Nyanzi, a Judge attached to the Criminal Division of the High Court, in charge of juvenile justice was our guest speaker. In a low and almost inaudible tone, he spoke a lot about his humble background, the primary school where he went to and how it was never on the grid of recognized schools in the country, the sacrifices he made to be able to move from one class to another. But despite all odds, he remained resilient and steadfast, for us who saw him that evening, he stood tall on the platform in front of us, accomplished in every sense of the word and you could not help but simply admire what the man had become.

On every such day, a topic for discussion is laid out and like a careful navigator; the guest speaker guides us through. It was a turn to discuss corruption.  For every one of us, this is something that has been discussed, mentioned in passing, pondered in the dead of the night or even been a part of. But like Justice Nyanzi pointed out, it is a thing that has existed from the time of Adam and Eve, lived through generations, is stuck with us and will not be shy to pass it on to the generations that will come after us.

As expected he talked about the different forms in which corruption manifests, from the small favors to dishonesty, to blackmail, bribery and preferential treatment. For many of these we knew, had probably experienced or were part of but the standout was his personal story. As a judge of the courts of judicature of Uganda, the temptation to be drawn in either of the above is huge. People have grown not to have any trust in their judicial officers. But Justice Nyanzi went on record to say that for all his time as a judicial officer, he had never attempted to take a bribe knowingly or unknowingly. “I leave within my means but most importantly I want to leave a legacy of honesty.” It was heart-warming.

As he summed up the evening, he rallied us to be passionate fighters against corruption, because if blame is to be rationed out, when all has been said and done we shall have only ourselves to blame. In the minds of mortals, this is an impossible goal to achieve but there are no limits to humanity, we can be bad but we can be good and very good too.

This conversation may be tired or we may even be tired of having it but in our small ways we can do something about it!

Blessed week ahead!

Classless acts and how they mirror on our image

There is something unique and distinctive about class. It is a thing that is quite difficult to define with precision, one that you may not touch with your physical hands but yet seems obvious to the human eye. Class has never been about resources, wealth or power although these could accentuate its existence, but it is a cocktail of bits and pieces of one’s acts, conduct and general outlook. You cannot attach a price to it but its unflagging aura is one that you would classify as priceless.  It comes in simple and innocuous ways such as what you say, how you say it, the things that you choose to do, the manner in which you do them.  

In a week that has been dominated by thinly veiled barbs and cheap shots, from water melons to pumpkins to sending others to hang and in hell, it was not an audition of character or good morals but it was a display of classless acts that mirror the image of us, our society and how much we have accepted as okay.

I will share a very short story about a very important lear that I picked from one of the most impactful teachers I have met in my education life. I have since come to terms with the fact that some of the greatest lessons I have learnt in life, were those imparted in me during my callow years at the beginning of my mid education life. As it is the life of many of us to be naughty and jumpy at this age, so was this little boy in class whose name I can hardly recall. During a school gathering on a certain occasion, he did something (I don’t remember what) that provoked the ire of one of the teachers. The teacher looked at him, then looked at us all and then looked at him again; at that point no one could guess what would be next, probably a slap or rebuke but neither was forthcoming. Instead, with a calm and gentle stance, he asked a seemingly simple and straightforward question from no-one-knows-where; “Did you grow up or you were brought up?” It wasn’t just about the strangeness of the question but his face was also revealing, you didn’t need to be an expert in body language to know how disgusted he was. Because that simple statement had attracted the attention of many, he seized the opportunity to give us a life lesson. He explained that there is a huge difference between growing up and being brought up because the former means that like an offshoot of a plant you accumulated years and without being tendered and raised you have reached that age of your life, the latter on the other hand means that you were cared for and most importantly in the meticulous process of bringing you up, you were taught manners and how to behave especially in the presence of other members of the public. He wasn’t done yet. Much more than being brought up, it needn’t have been in a house but rather a home, the difference being obvious! For the little boy who had misbehaved, he wished the earth could swallow him up but for the rest of us it was a point driven home.

Ultimately as a matter of fact, our conduct as individuals is not something that is watermarked on us at birth but rather components that we learn bit by bit from the actions and examples that are before us. This is exactly why the family environment is very important for child upbringing because in the absence of a caring and compassionate atmosphere, the effects are easy to notice.

I don’t proclaim sainthood for starters but for more times than not, the young people (call them the millennials or even the burger-sausage-pizza generation) have been castigated for mostly their shortcomings rather than their achievements. But we also need to look at it in a larger context; do these young ones have older people that they look up to? If they look up to them, then we must consider what the elders have in their showroom that we visit and take along with us ready to adopt and make part of our lives. It is easy for us to adopt in our vocabulary watermelons or pumpkins or even send people to hang or in hell because those are the examples we are being fed on everyday and each day!

Blessed week!

Of depression, moods and the need for a support system

In the fall of 2018, the Mental Health Foundation of the UK carried a rather captivating story. A guy who was only identified as Benj was experiencing severe depression and other mental problems. He started experiencing these when he moved to university. “I thought it was a natural part of the experience-trying to establish social networks and getting to grips with my studies. But looking back it’s clear I became very isolated.” Benj started to spend long periods alone in room, anxious and fearful of meeting new people. He struggled to sleep and make decisions, even to remember that he had left food on the fire. Away from home and his usual support networks, there was no one he trusted to confide in and with all this he struggled to be well but he never was. He was lucky to receive counseling sessions that helped him pull through.

The statistics in the UK put it at 5 of every 16 people being affected by depression. Research has been carried out in our country and it was revealed that 3 out of every 10 northern Ugandans suffer from depression, a mood disorder that causes sadness, downheartedness and gloom. The only limitation in this study is that it was carried out in a single region but imagine we are to take it as a representation of the entire country then that puts the percentage at 30% for those affected by depression. If I am sitting in a class of 300, then that means 90 or so of my classmates are depressed. Disastrous! That figure is astronomical! The minister of state for primary health care, Ms Joyce Moriku during a press conference at the ministry headquarters in April last year noted that depressions is the second leading cause of death among people aged 15 to 29 years. You need no expertise to guess why. From coursework results to enervating examinations, to the graduation battle and finally to whether you will be employed or not. But that is only the academics window, the social life has its own revolving door, you are faced with relationship huddles, with financial constraints, ego and prestige fights and with so many life choices. All these can easily take a heavy toll on one.

But these are the moments in our lives that delineate us, that define who we are, exposing our very soft and weak spots but in other times they spell out the turgid variations that hide in the furthest corners of our hearts. The reaction to what befalls us differs depending on the thickness of one’s skin but also by reason of many other factors among them being the support system that holds us up. We have created a society in which people find it harder and harder to show one another basic affection. Despite the fact that millions live in close proximity to one another, it seems that many people have no one to talk to, but even if they do, it is the usual things that dominate everyone else’s conversation.

But the dimensions are different for even those who laugh and have a word for everyone; they struggle with thoughts in the dead of the night maybe because they are afraid to be called weak, or much worse than that is they just can’t find a way to start.

The basic human feeling is not just about what you feel about yourself; it goes further to our ability to empathize with others. The Dalai Lama in his book Ancient Wisdom, Modern World makes the point that this basic human feeling is what enables to enter into, and to some extent participate, in others’ pain. It is what causes us to start a sound of a cry for help, to recoil at the sight of harm done to another, to suffer when confronted with others’ suffering and it is also what compels us to shut our eyes when we want to ignore others’ distress. As  a people who have understood the heavy handedness that depression can exert, we ought to offer shoulders for those in need to rest on but most importantly to be the support system that we can ever be.

When all has been said, we need to ask ourselves three fundamental questions. The first is that, why is there so little known about metal health compared to physical health and yet this is a disease like any other and it kills too at a very high rate? Secondly, why have the older people continually denied the existence of depression and its surrounding ramifications? Lastly but most pertinently, if this is a government that cares about its next generation, why is it mute about their leading killer? Before we get to the bottom of these three questions, we may as well be where we started off.

In truth, like Benj we never know when it starts but just like a physical illness, with time the signs begin to show!

I can’t break off without congratulating the mighty Makerere Law School JESSUP team that made sure the school represents Uganda in Washington. If we all agree that the week started off on a bad note with a recommendation to have the mighty school closed, the tweet by the Vice-Chancellor’s official handle at the end of the week summed it up for us; thank you for flying our banner high.

Blessed week!

A Spiritual Revolutionary; Remembering the Life of Bishop Patrick Kyaligonza

“To live life to the fullest, you must stand guard at the gate of your garden and let only the very best information enter. You truly cannot afford the luxury of a negative thought-not even one. The most joyful, dynamic and contented people of this world are no different from you or me in terms of their makeup. We are all flesh and bones. We all come from the same universal source. However the ones who do more than just exist, the ones who fan the flames of their human potential and truly savour the magical dance of life do different things than those whose lives are ordinary. Foremost amongst the things that they do is adopt a positive paradigm about their world and all that is in it.”

February 11, 2010. The day was supposed to be like any other, the sun rising from its favourite direction, people going about their normal business but sadly it never was. Like an old Tibetan proverb puts it, ‘The next life or tomorrow- we can never be certain which comes first.’ Bishop Patrick Kyaligonza Ateenyi only consecrated less than a year was out going by his usual duties but only this time it was his last. Minutes after he had set out for what was supposed to be confirmation of candidates in the Anglican faith, he was involved in a fatal accident that claimed his life.

Ateenyi (as he was fondly referred to) was among the select few who inspired respect and affection, very passionate in the pursuit of causes he believed in. We have created a society in which we find it harder and harder to show one another basic affection but no one could accuse him of this. The most outstanding thing about his personality was his simplicity, he mingled with anyone irrespective of denomination. It didn’t matter if you were Catholic or Muslim or even pagan, he always oozed the calm reassurance that humanity is more important than anything else. He was a clergyman before he was Bishop; however he was human before he was clergyman. So while as Bishop he had a special responsibility to the clergy, as a clergyman he had a special responsibility to his flock but as a human being he had a much larger responsibility toward the large human family, Catholic or Protestant, Muslim or Pagan. There was something special about him; he was someone that glued people together, he refused to give up on anyone irrespective of what those around you thought about you. He was a man whose company you sought simply because it enriched your life. To many of us who were glad to share moments with him, the truth is that it never crossed Bishop Patrick’s mind that if he asked, you wouldn’t give because he spent his whole life giving.

While at his funeral, outside the Cathedral where he had had his last assignment, where he had served for many years even before he became bishop, there was sadness engraved on the faces of each one, everyone had their personal moment to tell about him. The funeral attracted religious and cultural leaders, politicians, the powerful and mighty, but this funeral seemed to be of a difference, for it was filled with many ordinary members of the public, who had simply come to say thank you. He definitely was no saint, but we were sure that Saints would be standing at the Gate of Heaven waiting to greet him.

Today he would be celebrating a decade as Bishop of Rwenzori Diocese and three decades in ministry but the Lord had a different plan for him. His life was lived to the fullest because he could not afford the luxury of a negative thought, his was a positive paradigm on any day and all this radiated to those around him.

 Like Robin Sharma says, when all is said and done, no matter what you have achieved, no matter how many summer homes you own, no matter how many cars sit in your driveway, the quality of your life will come down to the quality of your contribution.

Bishop Patrick Kyaligonza will be remembered for many things but the most endearing is that he was a spiritual revolutionary and to many of us he was a spiritual father; we shall forever miss him as he continues to rest in peace!

Blessed week ahead!

This is our Country

Well, I can stand beside ideas I think are right

And I can stand beside the idea to stand and fight

I do believe there’s a dream for everyone

This is our country

Those are the opening lines of John Mellencamp’s famous song ‘Our Country’. He sings about what we all call home, he voices out a desire for freedom, where a country belongs to all, from the east coast to the west coast. That science should live, there should also be room for religion to forgive, and all should be accommodated irrespective of diversity in opinion and thought.

We live in a ‘small’ space, occupied by a multilingual society, enclosed within colonial generated geographical boundaries, governed by a group of people who by our choice or otherwise have occupied those spaces. Gathered in huddles, our artificial habitats are sprawled all over the country, the rich and the poor alike and for those who claim to be neither. However something invisible to the human eye seems to separate us, something that seems to give more entitlement to others, that which lets them off the hook when they err and allows others to rot in prison even when their conscience is clear.

This week alone, power and might was once again at display. Not new to us, same old script but this time with a different setting. We fixate our attention on the incident that involved a retired army general who reminded us that laws are not made for all. They are made for a few; some choose to respect them out of courtesy while others outrightly violate them but there is that class that sails above everything, to them they don’t even exist.

One of the famed two-star generals that this country has been gifted with, not in the heat of the moment, obviously not in combat, certainly not in a war zone, found himself provoked enough to draw a gun and shoot at a civilian’s car. Not the first time he has been involved in a controversy but we have since been acquainted with the ending. We look at all the actors involved and all have a stake in this country but ultimately, like in a lottery some have more stakes than the others and you could be forgiven to call them the real owners of the country.

This story reminded me of Martin Aliker’s own narrative in his memoir, The Bell is Ringing. When he was exiled in Kenya, being personal friends with President Kenyatta, he was offered the kind of protection any first class citizen would deserve. He was also sent to a training school where he would learn how to use firearms, how to assemble and dismantle a pistol. While there, he writes and says that he was told something that scared him. They said, “If you think your life is in danger, shoot not to hurt, but to kill. If you kill someone, we will arrange for bail, and the case will never come to court.”

Governments everywhere in the world are run in a similar fashion, there is Adolf Hitler and there is Arthur Neville Chamberlain, the British Prime Minister who failed to restrain the German Dictator in 1938. There is Joseph Stalin and there are Western supporters who defended the gulags. There is Saddam Hussein and there is the American government which in 1989, a couple of months after the gassing of hundreds of Kurds, doubled its aid to Iraq. There is Gideon Johannes Nieuwoudt, torturer of black and coloured people, and the foreign supporters of apartheid. There are the journalists from the hate radio station Mille Collines in Kigali, and there is the Pentagon which didn’t wish to disrupt the channel. There are the predators who kill and torture and there are those who watch and applaud or close their eyes.

But like President Museveni has on several occasions noted, there are three things that we should not be in hurry to mix together; a country, a nation and a state. I don’t know much about the last two but I am certain beyond doubt that this is a country for us all and I won’t hesitate to add that we own it.

Blessed week!

When Family met family; the beautiful homecoming

One of the core values of the school that accommodated me for my high school was freedom. This freedom albeit expressed freely had a cap to it; you had to assume responsibility in its exercise. So the very moment you were in the wrong and opted to pull out the freedom card, you would be quickly reminded that the school is not a haven where freedom thrives unchecked, rather you needed to know that there were particular confines that you wouldn’t overstep. It is this freedom that gave birth to various proto-types, that allowed ideas to germinate and nourished the tendrils of our mental creepers. We came up with bizarre ideas, some materialized but like any institution, some never saw the light of day.

Around the fifth month of 2013, two very brilliant club presidents (Geography and Wildlife) sat down and conceptualized an idea. This was no common idea and it threatened to attract even the big shots in government but most importantly it targeted the big, upper class and high end schools which would without doubt be a massive achievement if pulled off. The dates were attached and the letters dispatched. Today I refuse to discuss that event but I will talk about the concept  because it was what propelled many of us to the ground we stand on today. The long and short of the proposed event was to have schools gather for a quiz, atleast that is what we the outsiders know. But this event or rather the idea (because the event may not have happened) is very important because it was the foundation of the famous ‘5 Arts Friday weekly quiz’ which is famous and infamous depending on where you sat.  

Because majority of the class were interested in sitting for the Makerere University Law School Pre-entry two years later, we thought it wise to start our preparations as early. Every Friday evening (during prep) our class would be looking forward to this highly competitive quiz that involved politics, religion, entertainment and sports. The most knowledgeable on the respective subjects would prepare questions for the class and the winning column took the bragging rights for the week. It is not surprising that this was the only prep that got 100% attendance from a class of just 36 and with time, some of the members from the science class started joining in! The results were not inch-perfect but of the 20 that sat for the pre-entry test, 15 of us got in without trying hard.

Even when we got to university, that idea two years ago was not about to fade. The two presidents (of Geography and Wildlife who were now emeritus) summoned us once again, this time it wasn’t for a quiz but it was to find a solution to something more complex than everyday quiz questions; we needed a very quick turnaround for our Constitutional Law coursework. That gathering is very dear to me for various reasons but the standout is that it was the springboard for the very many other things that were to come in the future. The family grew bigger with time; it was no longer only for those who sat through the memorable Friday night quizzes but for many others who were happy to associate.

As a way to look back at the times gone by, to remind ourselves of the happy and difficult times I was happy to welcome the family I got while I was far away in school to the family where I was born and raised. It wasn’t the first time I was welcoming them but the circumstances of the previous time were less happy. The Igbo people say that when kinsmen gather in your compound to watch the moon, it is not because they can’t see it in their own compound but rather it is good for kinsmen to meet.

That event that was planned for May 2013 may never have happened but the parturition of that idea by those two presidents (Mugerwa and Courage) is worth looking back to because for me it birthed a family and it may be what we stand on for generations to come.

Blessed week ahead!

Anonymous giving- What don’t we understand?

Charles Onyango Obbo in his book Uganda’s Poorly Kept Secrets tells a story of a man living in London, who stumbles upon a story of a single mother from Namuwongo, a Kampala suburb who was struggling with her kids and other adopted children. This woman’s story had made it to the dailies and she was calling on well-wishers to help build her a shack where the family would put their heads. It captivated the man from London and before long he took it upon himself to send a weekly amount of money to this woman to cater for her needs and those of her children. No one knew the identity of the man.

Onyango Obbo tells another intriguing story, this time of a university student. A private student who had just joined her dream university, Makerere suddenly found herself without sponsorship after both her parents lost their jobs while she was in year one. She appealed to The Monitor newspaper then and it offered to run her appeal to good Samaritans to come up and help her. “Many people expressed sympathy, because that was all they could afford. One woman went further. She rang me and offered to pay fees for the young woman. Only on one condition: she would deliver the money to me to pass on, and I was never to disclose her identity. I agreed. So, without fail, at the beginning of every university term, she would send an envelope full of cash enough to pay the fees, and I would pass it on. The young woman graduated from university, and the family had an emotional party for her. She came with her mother, who was in tears, to my office to ask who the anonymous benefactor was so that they could invite her to the celebrations. The benefactor said she was touched, but insisted she wanted to remain anonymous. And so it is to this day.”

The idea of anonymous giving is one that fascinates to say the least but is intriguing at best. I have always desired to understand the genetic make of people who choose to do this. What are they made of? Why do they choose to do it that way? Is it humility? Are they embarrassed by the praise that would be lavished on them? Does it make them feel better?

This week alone I saw it play out on two separate occasions. There is a very popular program on Bukedde TV where the presenter comes out and appeals to the general public to offer some help to the often helpless. On this particular one, it was a minor who by a stroke of unimaginable mischance had become pregnant but was unable to look after the child, she could barely find what to dress in and the man responsible was on the loose. Well wishers from far and wide poured in various items including money but unexpectedly many of them insisted that their identities not be disclosed. It didn’t strike me as strange after all there was a whole web of interminable complications that still shrouded this particular matter. Perhaps they could have avoided the full glare that comes with media attention but I maybe I was wrong.

However, while in church on Sunday the circumstances were completely out of the ordinary. The Chaplain at church announced to us the purchase of new musical items. We were further informed that these were not any usual instruments but state of the art. They had cost a fortune and these had been contributed by one family who were part of the congregation but preferred not to be mentioned. These were two separate events, same storyline, probably with similar intentions and exactly the same end results.

Later in the day as I engaged in a discourse with a pal, I learnt much more and got a better understanding of the occurrences. There are many Christian values that many of us have by omission or even commission chosen to neglect, that many of our spiritual fathers have for their own individual interests refused to teach, that for example giving should never be about being praised by those around or your neighbors and neither should it be a show contest. It should be between you and your God. Genuine giving is never about who is seeing, it is more about someone’s heart. I know we are in an age where recognition is important, where everyone wants a podium mention for what they give, are giving or yet to give but many times that takes away the real reason for doing what we do. In this conversation, my friend told me she would feel ‘embarrassed’ if her name had to be mentioned every time she gave something. “It would invite eyes that look at you in different forms. That is why I would do everything to make sure I am not mentioned.”

As J D Rockefeller said, we should begin thinking about giving not as a duty but as a privilege but this should not be a privilege we flash across the world for all others to see.

“But when you help a needy person, do it in such a way that even your closest friend will not know about it.” Mathew 6:3

Blessed week!

 

We need to feel Safe

Late last year, while everyone was going about their normal business, a story emerged. Two people of full age had been at the centre of a rather ugly unfolding. At the time the first narrative emerged, it was from a third party, one who had been confided in by the alleged victim, obviously the one who found it uglier. In a heartbeat the story had been picked up on various social media platforms with diverse opinions being formed even with the scanty facts at play. The purported wrongdoer was also drawn into the fray where he obviously denied the knowledge of whatever was being said and even threatened legal action for dragging his name through the dirt. Like every story, it was to be soon swept away by the winds of another raging and fresh tale but however it didn’t just go away, it left a trail.

In the wake of this story, there were many discussions that I found myself engaged in but one particular one stood out. In what was supposed to be an academic gathering, we found ourselves wavering off to discuss the events around us, about life and what occupied our minds. For the two or so hours we spent, the discussion was around sexual harassment and the biggest fear expressed by the girls in the room that day was that they no longer felt safe, especially around boys no matter who it was. The guys they didn’t suspect were the actual predators, those who spoke good English and dressed nicely, those that were gentle and charming, ever smiling; their biggest strength being their unpredictability. Many were actually public figures, who sat on high tables at events and would even give speeches in mammoth crowds. But in a bat of an eyelid, these guys would turn into beasts. The girls later asked a fundamental question, how can we feel safe if we are not sure about those around us? I didn’t leave that question in that room, I carried it around with me everywhere I went, I wanted to probe and see and also ask those around me. Unfortunately, I didn’t find an answer.

The past week has only served to re-awaken this million dollar question that I have often toyed with.  As I was still recovering from the horrors of the R Kelly revelations, where countless accusations were being leveled against him for sexual violence against little children, I listened to a horrifying story from a friend who narrated a rather related ordeal but the difference was that this was not a celebrity miles away, it was a nightmare of people I interact with, those I talk to and many I used to respect. It reminded me of that gathering I had sat in only months ago when the culprits were described as gentle and smart, with good looks and appear respectable. Their fickle nature was their biggest strength and more boldness is required from the victims. They need to name them; we should shame them, shun them and isolate them, that can be the only way to show them that we are not ready to accept their very bad ways.

I am not so good with music but I know a thing or two about musicians especially those that pull crowds like the one R Kelly pulled at Lugogo in 2010. The headline in the dailies the following day screamed, “We want more.” He had stepped on stage, performed and left everyone yearning for more. A space of 8 years has however altered so much, it may not have reduced his net-worth but it has certainly put a stain on his brand, he may still sing like he used to but many may never listen to his songs the same way, if they ever listen to them at all. If the world was to scream for him today and for all other sexual harassers, it wouldn’t be to ask for more but to call them to order because such habits are uncouth and disgusting. The world and like everyone else deserves better.

On a lighter note I wish all those graduating this week from the prestigious Makerere University all the best in their journey ahead. Many employees like to say that the difference between a brilliant student and an average one is seen the moment you step out into the field of work. On an individual basis, many of this year’s graduates were my classmates at some point but they chose a shorter route to the destination we are all headed for. I hope to join you soon.

In the same spirit I also would like to wish Steven of house Nuwagira, a great friend of mine a happy birthday. He has many very special attributes but what stands out for me is his work ethic and ability to come up with solutions in a trice. Back in high school, I worked with him on our school magazine and just when we were almost through, a high powered virus attacked our computer and erased all our work, only two people knew about it. He came up with a rather quick solution and it saved our necks that time. Happy birthday once more!

Manchester United fans are already having a great week; I wish the rest a better week ahead!

Will 2019 offer better? We only have to hope

One of my mum’s favorite lines goes like, “Time doesn’t change, it is people that change in our eyes.” Of course she says this in the local dialect and it is laden with so much wisdom, it triggers thought and makes you understand situations you thought you never would. She likes to say it at the end of her incessant tales, but personally it has taught me to put up with so much. But that is not why I refer to it today; I want to say that much more than the people, time actually shifts and that is why we see 2018 disappearing like a blur at a distance and the 2019 horizon taking shape.

For many like me, 2018 would rather have not come, but for some, they wished it had not ended. As some people grieved and mourned others celebrated yet another year, when some were making vows others thought it was time to undo them, some were getting their dream jobs others were being relieved of their duties, it was a cycle at both ends. But both can come into 2019 hoping for better, for a brighter year for a better time. I am not one who likes to make start of the year resolutions but my constant resolution is to be better than I was the previous year, in finances, in knowledge, in the circle of friends, to write more often and to generally improve in everything in life.

A rather interesting chained message was making rounds at the start of the year that it is only the date that had changed, your income, spouse, level of education etc all had remained constant. A friend of mine on their status put it this way, “2019 is going to be exactly like 2018 because time is just an abstract concept created by man and has no real or actual bearing on what you achieve.” Many may disagree but opinions are like a nose, everyone has theirs.

There is a certain excitement that engulfs us at the start of another year, it is something like a hope for something better, a new slate to write everything afresh or all over again, new beginnings if you like. In our local dialect you won’t miss the congratulatory messages when someone meets you, thanking you for completing the old year and starting a new one, it seems like a routine, something that is done as a cultural practice but boy oh boy it is something worth celebrating. As we start this New Year my message to all is simple, let us shun mediocrity and improve ourselves in any way we can.

As part of my year’s weekly schedule, I will try and make out a blog post at least once. I will be sharing how my week was, talk about something outstanding that I saw or was part of or what I learnt, in those little bits I will try and tell my story. Today I will share something about the lay man’s perspective of women, call it the manifestation of patriarchy if you like.

The past week has been somewhat labour intensive and now and then I was involved in some casual work in the farm at home. Through this I have had to work with many people who have not crossed a school compound even once. Because of the nature of work, it doesn’t attract anyone beyond that level and it explains my company. I also feel bad about the wages I have to pay them at daybreak compared to the energy they use but that is for another day. While working, we talk about many things, of course the level of discussion being about the basic things, from President Museveni desiring that his son be the next president to oil in the Albertine having already been extracted by Museveni, plus many other stories that will definitely amuse anyone. I rarely engage except to laugh and eke them on.

But this one particular discussion caught my attention, it was the one on wives and how they are treated by their husbands. Many of those I was working with are around my age and some slightly younger than me, but because they had no school to pre-occupy them have already founded homes (families if you like). They return home to welcome songs from their little children, to food and hot water prepared by their wives while I walk home hoping they didn’t forget me for the lunch meal. But particularly disturbing was the fact that all the boys (read men) present had each confessed to having beaten their wives. I listened to them justify their wrong doings and it hurt, because they returned home earlier than them, because they spoke suspiciously on phone or maybe that they had answered them back. I asked them how it feels to beat someone and you have to sleep in the same bed just minutes later. They laid claim to the fact that they own the home and would not tolerate any kind of “indiscipline” from a woman. I didn’t engage further because the more I probed, the more justified they felt in defending what is clearly wrong. As we parted ways I felt bad that there was nothing I could do to protect their weak and helpless wives but I promised that just like my dad did many years ago, I would also raise my sons to be better.

The beginning of the year sermon was also one that caught my attention, the kind that reminded us to put ourselves right this year. My biggest takeaway however was an important statement that the preacher made albeit in passing. He said that, “In this world, it is only civilized people who appreciate.” He was teaching us about how Christians in this day have jettisoned all their values, why it is important to thank someone who has protected you throughout the turn of the year and why we should have hope in 2019. We like to call ourselves civilized people, maybe what we could do is appreciate more.

I take the opportunity to also welcome back home the team (Sebastian Ivan Segawa and Shabil Ojambo) that represented Uganda at the World University Debate Championship in South Africa. It is not every day that we get representation at the WUDC, the last time we had a team there was when the country was still engulfed in the euphoria of discovering oil in the Albertine. The bigger debate community looks forward to learning from your experience garnered at the world stage.

Lastly, I wish all those at the Law Development Centre a happy term ahead. Maybe someday you will debunk the many myths talked about every time LDC features in a conversation.  

Till next time,

Have a rollercoaster week!