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!