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!