No holds barred

Is Wabudeya writing her political death will?

2009-12-14T14:10:00.003+03:00

The fever is slowly catching on. People are setting eyes on several prizes ahead of the 2011 political festival. One huge anticipated race will be that between the Presidency Minister Beatrice Wabudeya (NRM) against Nandala Mafabi, the chairman of the Public Accounts Committee, for the Budadiri West seat in Sironko District.

What we shall witness, after Wabudeya declared she would no longer go for the Sironko Woman seat and instead move turf to Budadiri West, will be a culmination of two dissimilar journeys of politicians largely known.

Wabudeya jumped into the political fray in 1996, taking the Mbale Woman seat in a grueling battle with then UEB boss Irene Muloni. Coming from a humble veterinary profession, hers was a real coup—but the even bigger surprise was her inclusion on cabinet as a Primary Health Care minister thereafter. Of course this political foundation was mainly attributed to the silent support she got from then powerful NRM Political Commissar and Speaker of Parliament, James Wapakhabulo. Wabudeya and Housing Minister Werikhe Gabafusa were Wapakhabulo’s two projects that he helped not just win seats but find slots for in cabinet.

And yet for Wabudeya—hers was never a clear political path. Largely said to be aloof—it occurred to her that fighting for the Mbale Woman seat was going to be a tall order—she tactfully withdrew to the Sironko Woman seat in 2001—good enough the new-district craze had caught on.

She then took a tour through the education ministry and ended up at the doorstep of the presidency—as the minister in charge. It is a position she’s held ever since she made it through the 2006 elections—where she literally had to shoot her way to victory. With a little-known accountant taking her on the FDC ticket, it took deploying security agencies and literally stuffing ballot boxes—with skirmishes at Sironko Town Council—for her to score victory.

Compare that with Nandala Mafabi. Largely unknown before 2000; he leaves a well-paying job in the World Bank and makes it on the opposition ticket as MP for Budadiri West in 2001. The early days see him named in a few corruption scandals (the Mukwano case) but he later makes a sterling performance as chairman of the House’s National Economy committee.

He then shoots to prominence as chairman of the Parliamentary Accounts Committee; he becomes the face of Parliament’s fight against corruption; grilling district and government officials accused of plunder by the Auditor General. Nandala by no mistake is a great accountant. He has a laser-precision of seeing through documents—especially when they are about accountability.

Such are the CVs of these two big politicians who have finally chosen to lock horns—with different motives. It is obvious that President Museveni wants Nandala out of the House. He’s helped expose the murk in the regime—many times just falling short of implicating the Presidency—like in the CHOGM theft scandal. Like Museveni did with Maj. Kazoora, Hon. Sabiiti and Augustine Ruzindana in 2006; Nandala is a marked man for 2011. That the President has taken time to go to Budadiri West and alert the peasants there about his dislike for Nandala is no surprise.

But whereas Janet Museveni might have found it easy to unseat Ruzindana in Ruhaama, Wabudeya may not just have it smooth in Budadiri. Nandala in Mbale is popularly referred to as “the king of the Bamasaaba”. It is a title won very hard. He fought tooth-and-nail to take over management of Bugisu Cooperative Union—the one-time pride of Mbale. Despite stiff opposition from the government, which at one point tried to change the law to bar Nandala from contesting, he went ahead and swept the poll. Today, barely a year after he assumed that mantle, the union is registering billions in profit, up from the heavily-indebted apparatus it had become.

For this single sole reason, Nandala has become a messiah of sorts. The small-bodied man, who walks with a slight stoop and always has his sleeves rolled up (Obama style), has taken Mbale by the storm. At no previous point in Bugisu’s history (maybe with exception of Masette Kuya and Wapa at some point), have Bagisu rallied so concretely behind a politician—let alone one in the opposition. He sponsors over 200 university students from his constituency, giving them part of their tuition. His numerous petrol stations are a source of employment for many.

That exactly is the difference between Nandala and Wabudeya. As minister—and knowing how politics has come to be defined in this country—many Bagisu though Wabudeya’s positioning would enable them access jobs or related benefits. How mistaken they were! Either out of principle or stinginess, this has not happened much. When Wabudeya was education minister, Bugisu was among the worst-performing regions in national exams. She watched as the only giant school, Nabumali, slid to anarchy. Even when she was in health, the state of hospitals never changed—instead facilities like Bududa Hospital continued to become fossilized. I met a frustrated student who thought by being from Mbale, she had a good shot at a government scholarship to study abroad—because Wabudeya was minister. I later learnt that many young Bagisu had suffered similar fate. Not even the presence of Ms Gabona, another daughter of the soil as head of the scholarships board in the ministry could help. And yet the case was different for people from another region!

A few weeks ago, I made an appointment with someone who was to become a new friend. It turned out it was Wabudeya’s daughter—fresh from school. She was asking if I could help her get a job—and wondering why—she told me her mum could never peddle influence to get her an appointment. Now, this can either be a plus or minus depending on where one stands. Principle or stinginess?

That said, it is clear Nandala is the more popular—but Wabudeya has the state machinery. The story is that Nandala was actually intending to run for the Mbale Municipality seat after Wilfred Kajeke threw in the towel. When news made the rounds that Wabudeya was eyeing his home turf, he cancelled the idea, instead opting to have the face-off.

But also with the news that Principal Private Secretary to President Museveni Amelia Kyambadde is jumping into elective politics--the done deal is that she will take the Presidency Minister slot--if she goes through. This makes it even more important for Wabudeya to snatch the Budadiri Seat; but if she fails--I see her political career plummeting from then on. With such high stakes, this makes a real dream contest!

Homosexuality is not our biggest problem!

2009-12-07T16:16:00.001+03:00

So, our biggest problem is homosexuality. As a country, what plagues us most is the thought of seeing one man kiss another—or some middle-aged woman fondle a colleague’s breasts. That, colleagues, is our biggest problem.

Otherwise what would explain the fact that an MP and our ethics minister (yes, we have that portfolio) are dying to pass the Anti-Homosexuality Bill, which will not just criminalise the act of same-sex affairs but also in some cases offer punishment of death.

Our government is so resolute in passing this legislation, that it has told donors to keep their aid if they will tamper with our pet project. “We shall not bend over for aid,” Ethics Minister Nsaba Buturo, asserted, as he vowed to make Uganda an unsafe place for people with a homosexual disposition.

I have always insisted that homosexuality is a biological sexual disposition. My only problem is when its crusaders parade it and try to put t in everyone’s faces. To that extent, I believe they are not in order.

But when a whole government spends hours to legislate on a matter that concerns perhaps less than 0.005 of our population, then I am compelled to pick issue with it. Never mind that the philosophy behind this hate campaign is “to protect our children from corrosive external influence”. Yes, our government cares so much about our children to protect them from a measly number of homosexuals but not the thousands of vampires called public administrators and managers—who suck public funds (about Shs500 billion annually) at the expense of social services and utilities.

The Nsaba Buturos of this world and Bahati are so worried about our children becoming gay—but unfazed that those children’s parents are engaged in extra-marital relationships explaining the stagnating HIV/Aids prevalence at 6.5 per cent—and yes, those parents are heterosexuals.

In punishing gays and keeping silent on other behavioural “ills” like fornication, voyeurism, multiple sex partners, etc—what the heck do we think we are doing?

But like I have argued before? Who deserves the death penalty? The homosexual couple kissing in the confines of their bedroom or the thieving minister who dips hands in taxpayers’ money, ensuring we lack drugs in hospitals and clinics? Who should we shoot by firing squad; the two consenting women fondling their breasts or the public servant who steals money meant for roads, ensuring a poor infrastructure, accidents and deaths?

And just asking; if MPs are meant to air their constituents’ concerns; how big a problem is homosexuality in the rural Ndorwa West Constituency?

Make abortion legal

2009-11-24T09:23:00.004+03:00

The above picture taken by Stephen Otage on Thursday November 19, 2009 shows residents of Kifumbira Zone in Kamwokya , a Kampala suburb look at an aborted foetus estimated to be about six weeks old.
According to the Police, this was the third such case in the last three weeks. The impression this revelation gives is that there may be a single abortion a week, but that’s not true. In fact Ministry of Health statistics indicate that annually in Uganda, there are about 600,000 unwanted pregnancies. Of these, probably more than 50 per cent end up being expunged before the nine-month maturation.
But because our Penal Code makes it criminal to abort—unless to save a woman’s life—a lot of the abortions are practiced in hidden, unsafe conditions that many times expose the girls/women to even greater health risks—like uncontrolled hemorrhage.
Opponents of abortion either point to religious dogma or the question of life’s sanctity. They never care about circumstances of conception or its attendant realities.
In Uganda, in districts like Sironko, local research has shown that girls become sexually active by age 12. No amount of sex education is changing this—considering that some of these areas are nearly as traditional in setting as they can be. Tips on sex and sexuality are gotten from the village wells, peers and misinformed talk of adults.
But even their urban counterparts are in no better position. Internet influence, TV soaps, early exposure to notions of contraceptives—are all stimulating their curiosity for sex. Teenage and young youth sex is something we are going to have amidst us—and resultant pregnancies. Question is: Should we make it illegal to abort yet we know that thousands of our young girls are going to conceive without really seeking to? That is the reality.
When we make abortion services criminal, we arrive at a situation like that in Kifumbira Zone. A foetus crudely removed and left next to a rubbish skip.
When we push our girls into aborting in the dark, we shall have many more bleed to death in silence—increasing not only infant mortality but maternal mortality too.
Let girls/women be given the free choice to carry or cut. And when they choose to cut, let’s make sure they can do it freely and hygienically to avoid other problems. A lot of pregnancies in our country are by chance—and to ask that people keep them against their will is to subject them to an eternity of misery.
I have not opted to talk about pregnancies from rape, defilement, incest, one-night-stands, orgies, because I suppose these are fairly straight-forward—and yet we know they saturate our societies.
Please—let’s decriminalize abortion!

Mistaken identity

2009-11-17T15:10:00.001+03:00

I watched life drown out of him. His hand was reaching out to me, begging for that last squeeze, that last embrace. He fell midway the sitting room, as he crawled towards me. I stood there in fright, my stool running freely down my legs, forming a small pool at my feet.

“Hamuka wewe,” the command in Swahili jolted me. It was the taller one. His mask on. He towered towards me. “Where is his passport?” he barked. “I don’tttt know,” I stammered back.

“Go get it,” he commanded.

I stepped into the small pool, splashing some on him—earning me a slap. I dashed upstairs. I knew where Moses kept his passport. It was always in the big case stacked in the upper shelf in the bedroom. As I struggled to stand on a stool and pluck down the case, I felt my body shiver. My hands were trembling—drops of sweat streaming from my head—midway mixing with leftovers of the stool.

As I fumbled, the thickset arms moved fast, pulling down the case—and bringing me along—sending me tumbling downwards, hitting my head on the nearby bed.

I could scarcely see as he opened the case—plucking out the passport that was lying atop of books. The rough fingers then made their way to my hair. Grabbing me and dragging me along downstairs—back to the sitting room, where Moses’ body now lay lifeless.

“Inaonesha nini,” asked the smaller, darker one who had remained down, the pistol still glued to his fingers.

“He last travelled two years ago,” the burly one replied, in perfect English. “To Nairobi.”

“What?” the other replied, surprise written on his face. “Nothing to do with Juba, Kinshasha?”

“No. And look. He is Masaba Moses.”

“Not Mabasa?”

“No.”

“Holy shit! We got the wrong person,” the burly one spat. He quickly stole a glance at me.

“You,” he pointed at me. “How were you related to this guy?”

“He was my husband.”

“For how long were you married?”

“Three years.”

After what looked like an eternity, the smaller one turned to me.

“Madam, we are sorry. Looks like we got the wrong person. Is this 11^th street?”

“No,” I stammered back, my tears gushing. “It is 10^th.”

I could see the bigger one look at me with a grin. The magnitude of their error just seemed to dawn on him. He spoke to me.

“You may never really know who we are. But we were looking for someone who has in the past six months been moving out of this country, going to neighbouring states with what we believe are ill motives against our government.” He paused and after ages returned to the narration.

“The people we work for told us he has been going to Juba and visiting Zaire. He was mobilizing guns to uproot this regime. It is unfortunate that we got some of our facts mixed up. But that is how we operate. In our world, it is called collateral damage.”

The smaller one interjected.

“Consider yourself lucky. We could have taken down both of you. At least you can live to get another husband.”

I stood there rooted like a statue. How could these men who had brought my innocent husband’s life to a grinding halt speak to me thus? Who the hell did they think they were? I was now ready to put up a fight. With my fists slowly clenching and in a trance, I moved towards what I thought was the smaller man. I hurled myself at him—only to hit the chair hard. They were nowhere to be seen.

Bukenya, Kazini deaths--why can't the conspiracies go away?

2009-11-11T11:29:00.005+03:00

When news trickled in the newsroom Sunday morning that the Vice President’s son, Bryan, had died of injuries sustained after a motor accident 19 hours before, we all were heartbroken. It was not much so because he was the VP’s son—but well, it was a young life gone too early.
Twenty six years old, a Law graduate from a reputable UK university, promising cadet, a young woman and child left behind… But just as we were going about doing the story—people began asking questions. So, how come he’s the only one who died in a car that had four occupants? And how did the driver manage to disappear—only to be traced later—at a brother’s house looking every inch unharmed?
And this was a boy in military academy—what was he doing out at 5am yet the rules are clear on cadet trainees? Was he getting preferential treatment being the VP’s son? And the mother of them all came from the driver’s statement: Bryan kept telling me to drive fast but when the car crashed, he was fast asleep! Ok, would this guy break his sleep, issue instructions at the driver—and go back to slumberland?
I now understood why the conspiracies could not just fade away despite Police explanations saying the accident was just that—an accident. I understood when people began philosophising on Prof. Gilbert Bukenya’s political ambitions, his courting Baganda Generals etc and the possibility that by sending his son to the army—he was embarking on creating his own turf. Remember majority of PGB boys now were actually Muhoozi’s recruits. I understood why the conspirators could not just let the accident be an accident.
Then, in the same week comes Maj. Gen. James Kazini’s death. It is visible that he was killed by a lover at her house. Draru, the lover, says she did it in self defence as the General moved to strangle her—and was pointing his gun upwards. Again the tongues begin wagging. First, where did the woman derive the confidence to tell all folk and sundry that she was responsible?
Surely, which murderer rushes to admit culpability with no single strain of fright? She was either deeply in a trance—or again at the conspirators argue—was aware of a stronger backing. But again—did she say the General was holding a gun—and detectives on the crime scene did not see any such gun—not until three hours later when Kazini’s official pistol was discovered wrapped nicely in a brown handbag in his car?
What about the claims of using a handle of a carpet cleaner to hit the General? The pictures from the crime scene show a white metal bar lying next to the soldier—obviously a frame but not of a carpet cleaner. And it is a bland instrument, how it effected a deep cut is strange. So, in the bars and elsewhere—the theories went into full drive. Kazini was a troubled man. Accused of creating ghost soldiers, charged, convicted and abandoned.
But could it also be true that he was paying for sins where not only him was the sinner? Was there fear that with his appeal rejected he was on the path of full disclosure? What beans was he about to spill? Might Draru actually be an extra in a scene dominated by bigger actors? What of talk that the General had some good millions on him—and there could have been people trailing him—for whatever reasons?
The Police have again asked people not to speculate. Draru has confessed before a magistrate that she killed Kazini. But citizens, of this increasingly cynical country, will not just keep quiet.
Question is: Has the government lost credibility so much that even when it explains away a straight event people can’t just take it. Reminds me of the tale in primary school. Of the boy who while herding cattle in the forest kept shouting that wolves were attacking and whenever villagers ran to his rescue discovered nothing. They got tired and when he shouted they ignored him. But one day, the real wolves struck. He screamed and screamed—but everyone knew it was a prank. The wolves devoured the cattle and the boy.
Food for thought.

Snub not an RDC

2009-11-03T12:28:00.001+03:00

“Do you know me? Do you know what I do? I am unbwogable.” I will excuse you for thinking that these are lines from Gidi Gidi Maji Maji’s once-a-hit “Unbwogable”. But no, these are not lyrics—these are comments of an RDC slurred.
You see, in the northern town of Gulu is a man called Milton Odong. The short, stout, suspicious—looking man, known to break into delirious laughter even when circumstances dictate otherwise, serves the war-ravaged but now recovering district as its deputy Resident District Commissioner. Plainly put, he is one of the hundreds of President Museveni’s minions in districts.
This guy, with his bloated ego, believes he should be chief guest at whatever function he attends in Gulu. To invite him—and relegate him to a mere guest—is an act of sacrilege in his world. When the Police, who had organised a workshop on gender-based violence, missed this point, the reality hit them hard.
According to Daily Monitor, November 3, 2009 (page9), after the United Nations Development Fund for Women (UNIFEM) country representative, Ms Forster Jabbel, had given the closing remarks as the chief guest, the burly deputy RDC jumped onto the podium, grabbed the microphone, and wondered how some good-for-nothing diplomat could “close” a function where he was present.
“This is a conspiracy to deny me a chance to tell the Police very crucial messages. This must not be repeated,” he fumed, and I think—with foam forming in his mouth. From the newspaper report, he decreed that UNIFEM and the Police would never hold any other functions in the district, unless invitation cards to Mr Odong were addressed thus: “With pleasure, we would like you to grace this function as the chief guest, where you will dole out your immense knowledge blah blah!”
Ms Teresa Awelo, one of the organisers, looked on terrified and later told journalists: “I don’t know him and he’s not qualified to talk about sensitive topics.”
I could not help—but like Odong—laugh in derision when I read this story. Just how far will these Presidential protégés go in abusing the rest of us nobodys? Why do these characters—who have been offered a lifeline—especially after failing in mainstream politics—think we owe them the air we inhale?
The cliché about absolute power corrupting absolutely comes in mind here—but again is it not said that the cubs get their spot from mother leopard? Who remembers a President Museveni—looking into the camera—and wondering to this nation how the Kabaka for two solid years had refused to meet him. HIM, Museveni, President of the Republic of Uganda????

Barya victory---did I predict it?

2009-10-23T12:13:00.002+03:00

Of course this is no grandstanding. But slightly over a year ago, I wrote in a little known website (theivorypost.com) that Prof. Venansius Baryamureeba was the best suited to become Makerere University's vice chancellor. Yesterday, the University Council seemed to agree and gave him the mantle. As a journalist, I realise the precarious position this places me in--since now we must turn to watch him closely. But for now, I think he deserves the benefit of doubt. Below is what I wrote then:

Who is best suited to be Makerere’s next VC?
By Don Wanyama TiP Columnist
Published August 3, 2008

I have read from the print media that the Makerere University vice-chancellor slot will be available in the coming year. Prof. Luboobi, who has been at the helm for five years, may not get a kisanja (another term) because apparently, a committee set up to review the rules guiding the search process has put an age shelf on the position.
A vice-chancellor must be between 40-60 years at the time of appointment and not beyond 65 at retirement. This means my good old Luboobi, who currently has six decades and three years to his plate, is technically cancelled out.
I have also learnt that his second-in-command, Prof. Bakibinga, tried to put up a spirited defence for the current team but the council could not hear any of it. He wanted their terms renewed but the members had other ideas. “Go,” they decided.
And indeed go, Luboobi’s team must. What intrigued me was that when the council asked anyone with interests in the matter to step out before voting was done, a host of fellows left. I want to imagine that the action meant they will be fronting themselves for the ultimate job.
Their names and titles go thus; Assoc. Prof. Lilian Tibatemwa (DVC Academics), Prof. Venasius Baryamureeba (Dean ICT), Mr. Olal Odur (Academic Registrar), Prof Edward Kirumira, (Dean faculty of Social Sciences) and Associate Prof JB Nyakana (lecturer faculty Arts).
Now, these are some of the best brains at that hill and I want to imagine they all have their eyes set on the prize. So, how do we proceed? By elimination method I suggest.

Assoc. Prof. Tibatemwa A focused lady I must admit. I attended a few functions as a student leader where she was chief guest and her presentations were perfect. She seemed to grasp her stuff well. She is also a woman and maybe the only one in this bull race. But look, she has been with Luboobi for all these years. With Bakibinga, she has deputised Luboobi for the five years. True, her academic portfolio may not have been as scandalous as Bakibinga’s administration and finance docket, but she can not pass the buck. There is general consensus that Luboobi has failed but he can’t fail alone. He has failed with his team, Tibatemwa inclusive. I don’t see her being any different. She should go with the current crop of leaders. She was also at the core of the aborted restructured retake fee payment schedule, which plunged the university in a destructive strike in 2005.

Assoc. Prof. JB Nyakana Let me be candid here. We all know that academicians usually border on the paranoia. Nyakana is a true embodiment of this. I remember meeting him near the geography department, which he headed for years, in his white gum boots and speaking in a baritone. Admittedly he is a great academician. His problem is that he borders on unprincipality. He has been the deputy chairperson of MUASA, the academic staff group, and was very vocal when lecturers laid down tools demanding for better pay. I remember watching him and MUASA spokesperson Kiggundu make a case for the teachers on TV.
But reports indicate that when the state infiltrated the association and caused the lecturers to abandon the strike, fingers kept pointing at Nyakana. Some unconfirmed reports claimed he sold out. Now, impeccability is a necessary yardstick, he fails here. Besides, apart from being a head of department and MUASA chief, not much sits on his administrative plate.

Mr. Olal Odur Let me go personal. In my first post on this site, I narrated how Olal Odur blatantly told us a lie about our transcripts. After assuring us that they would be ready a month after graduation, I still have friends (two years after), who are yet to get their transcripts. That is how bad the section he heads is. There are also questions about his academic standing. I am not sure but I think he has no PhD. He might have helped start a successful Institute of Long Distance Studies, but his stint at the orange building (Senate) has been poor. He took over from Ngobi, who had just taken over from the controversial Mukwanason Hyuha, but a lot need to be done, especially the transcripts office. I also recently met a young lady who had paid an official at senate to get her brother admitted irregularly. This place still stinks. To elevate him to vice-chancellor would be a big miscalculation.

Prof. Edward Kirumira He is a smart guy, no doubt about that. A smooth talker and open diplomat, Kirumira would be a prefect choice for VCship. But wait a bit. Has he not been in charge of the social sciences faculty for ages? What physical development has he got to show for that time? Nothing. This gives you an insight into his development ambitions—if they exist.
He is also accused of being a member of the “Masaka clique” the group of deans from the central region, who have run down the university. He is too soft to take on Makerere and its gigantic problems.

Prof. Venasius Baryamureeba aka Barya I can’t hide my admiration for this guy. He is just your perfect CEO. He may be an academician but he knows a thing or two on marketing and that is why his faculty seems to be very different from the rest in Makerere. When other faculties like technology are admitting that they have equipment which is three-decades old, ICT is becoming the best information technology hub in the East and Central African region. What is one of Makerere’s most recent faculties is really giving all the others a bloody nose. Maybe it has something to do about Barya’s youth, maybe his acumen, maybe just him, but acknowledge it; none of the other guys above have shown leadership, innovation and focus like this youngest dean in Makerere. His major undoing could be his politics. He is known to be closely connected to Bidandi Ssali’s PPP, and on the Kfm Saturday talk-show hosted by Simon Kasyate, where he is a panelist, Barya is known to criticize the government.
So, will the powers that be sacrifice sycophancy and let merit succeed? We have to keep our fingers crossed.
____________________________________________________________________________________*Don Wanyama is an alumnus of Makerere University. He currently works for The New Vision publication as a news sub editor. His blog is http://dwanyama.blogspot.com

Museveni; the coward on criticism

2009-09-29T19:22:00.000+03:00

Two weeks ago, I watched a documentary on unemployment aired on NTV. It explored its causes, using case studies of graduates who have 'tarmacked' the roads for ages after university.
But what was disturbing was a clip in which President Museveni placed the blame on subjects students study at university. He singled out Literature in English as one of those “redundant” subjects, wondering what one could do after studying William Shakespeare. “Shakespeare said this in this year, so what?” the sarcastic President asked.
I don’t think Mr Museveni's choice for Literature as a subject to berate was accidental. Literature emphasises critical thinking, using works of fiction, at times reality. Most literary works draw inspiration from real life, with authors either seeking to celebrate or criticise these aspects of life. It trains learners to look beyond the surface, equipping them with investigative and analytical skills.
It is therefore very understandable for President Museveni to berate such a subject. I mean which leader would not be worried about many students studying George Orwell's Animal Farm and discovering how revolutions (read liberations) can be abused? Which leader would not turn in their seats with unease if most subjects know about a certain Napoleon taking on the same behaviour and mannerisms of the Farmer Jones he deposed? Just imagine the strife we would have if half this country understood the concept of "eating eggs and drinking milk" as propagated by Squealer - and was able to name and shame modern-day Squealers? Who would feel comfortable reading Shakespeare's tragedy of Macbeth, cognisant that the betrayal and deadly ambition therein abounds in their neighbourhoods? Is it not Achebe who talked of old women feeling uncomfortable whenever bones were mentioned in a tale?
Leaders who have skidded off the path of the ideals they promised have found safety in muzzling critics who can ably alert societies about the ills. It is why the likes of Alex La Guma were banished by the South African apartheid regime. Does it surprise anyone that during the riotous moments in Europe in the 1830s and 1840s, students and lecturers of Literature were targets of the monarchical repressive regimes, many arrested and incarcerated?
Mr Museveni's argument of promoting science subjects at the expense of arts/humanities is hollow and escapist - mainly because employment in this country has ceased to be a question of merit. I know of several nursing graduates who are unemployed because every time they have applied for a job at a district, the commissions have asked for bribes that they can't raise. Those who have been able to oil the palms have been employed, irrespective of their competencies. The same cancer has eaten most public institutions and is gradually rearing its ugly head in the private sector.
Unemployment therefore, is an indictment on those charged with the duty of planning for this country. The Asian tigers we admire are able to predict human resource needs of their countries - at times decades in advance - and deliberately influence training in that direction. What do we do here? Let majority children get half-baked primary school education, go to facility-less secondary schools and fizzle out thereafter - adding to the statistics of the unemployed. Meanwhile, the few with the means send their children abroad to Ivy League universities and remind us about why we should not study Literature.
Can anyone explain why a President who sees no value in Literature at one point had an adviser on literary affairs? Saw it fit to back a local Literature guru as his party's spokesperson and keeps lacing his speeches with metaphors and similes - all literary qualities?

Makerere ring-fencing; the vice is spreading

2009-09-28T15:06:00.002+03:00

Some things in this country just keep sucking. With all these parochial calls for districts, tribal interests, ring-fencing, blah blah, one would imagine that the “intellectuals” would rise above this and maybe be the voices of sanity.
But how do you explain this? Makerere University lecturers met last week and voted to have the position of vice chancellor “ring-fenced” for only Ugandans. According to the academic staff association chairperson, Mr Tanga Odoi, they would not recognise a non-Ugandan if s/he assumed the position that falls vacant at the end of the end of next month. Letting a non-Ugandan become vice-chancellor would be equal to “mortgaging” the institution to foreign control, they argued.
So, here they are our elites. These guys have forgotten that in the 21st century, advancing notions synonymous with the early Stone Age just can’t stand. Even in the pre-civilisation era, tribes realised the importance of neighbours—that is why we had cross-kingdom trade. It is why Arabs came to the East African coast and people from the coast scoured the hinterland for goods. Yes, that our forefathers knew no man could be an island—but our modern day academics are yet to imbibe this fact.
What Makerere University needs is fresh, focused leadership that appreciates its problems but importantly has the right work method to help it compete with other institutions at a global level. This kind of leadership does not necessarily have to be home-grown as the Tanga Odois of this world seem to believe.
The world is quickly becoming a global village—and progressive thinking must be outside the box. We can no longer work; behave like we are marooned on an island. It is why even dictators strive to cover their behinds—knowing a Hague exists. It is for the same reason today that surgery can be performed in Uganda but with the expert surgeons sitting somewhere in the US.
Makerere University’s global rankings have received a battering lately because the institution has failed to demonstrate its presence (through publication of research) on the world stage. And this is not a problem that will be resolved by an inward looking leader—as the lecturers are demanding.
To address Makerere’s complex concerns also call for someone with some level of exposure and probably international connections. By seeking to ring-fence the position, lecturers might just be eliminating the right solution to their problems.
Makerere should not exclude people from competing for the post of vice chancellor just because they are non-Ugandan, and similarly, no one should be favoured for the position simply because they are Ugandans. It would only be fair and in the institution’s best interest that all candidates are subjected to the same standards of evaluation and the position offered to the best candidate, Ugandan or not. Kyambogo University went this road—why is Makerere chickening?
I personally know a couple of good brains at that hill, who can help steer Makerere from the knee-deep mud in which it is stuck today. One such person, I believe, is Prof. Venansius Baryamureeba. He has been decorated by over 1001 universities/agencies for his accomplishments in the ICT sector. His faculty has become a role-model of sorts—in the region. But I would not want to imagine that he can become vice chancellor because opposition from without was curtailed on technicalities. Let him, and others like Prof. Ddumba, face competition from other deserving candidates—whether Cameroonian, Kenyan or Malagasy.
I have lately witnessed an injustice take place. A friend—a competent person at their job—lost a job just because they are Kenyan working in Uganda. It looks like as a country, we are embracing xenophobia with alarming interest. But it is boiling down even to our single units—family, clans, tribe, districts etc. That’s why suddenly Banyoro can’t stand Bafuruki, Banyala resent Baganda, Jopadhola ‘hate’ Iteso—and vice versa, etc.
Why are we taking this path?? Why??

I got the taste of it--state violence

2009-09-12T10:17:00.004+03:00

Friday September 11th might just turn out to be one of those dramatic and significant days in this country’s history. It was the second day in which Kampala had become a battle field. Security agencies were fighting rioters who had taken to the streets protesting the government’s decision to block Kabaka Mutebi’s trip to Kayunga District.
From the first floor of our Namuwongo offices, we were getting all kinds of reports from the field. Corpses littering the suburbs, shops looted, a police post overrun by rioters, wanton shooting—and no signs of relenting from all sides. The news was coming in thick that at times you didn’t know exactly what to focus on.
Then, disappointed that our weekly Panel of Journalists show on Kfm had been called off for fear of state reprisal or possible closure, at about 7.30pm, a tip came in that UPDF soldiers had surrounded the Kabaka’s palace and placed him under house arrest. One of our editors immediately called the army spokesman, Lt. Col. Felix Kulayigye, who admitted that there was a deployment, but added “we are doing it for the Kabaka’s security”. We then placed a call to Gen. David Tinyefuza, the coordinator of intelligence agencies, who rubbished the claims.
There was no way we were going to run such an explosive story without our own verification. That is when we decided to go to the palace. As chief sub editor, I rarely go to the field—in fact never go to the field. I am an in-house operations guy, waiting for copy and ensuring it is processed well. But this was a big story and above all among the editors who were still in the newsroom, I seemed the only one with a good geographical grounding of the area—Kyambogo, Banda and Kireka.
We hit the trail, our political editor Charles Mwanguhya, senior reporter Tabu Butagira and myself. We left the car at one of my relative’s house in Kyambogo University and walked to the Banda palace. But we saw no activity there—apart from some laughter emerging from servants’ quarters. As we left to go to the other palace at Kireka—10 minutes away—we got a call from one of Buganda’s ministers, telling us the Kabaka was calling off his trip to Kayunga. We took the statement off the phone.
Locating the Kireka palace was not going to be easy because whereas I know the hill, I didn’t exactly know where the palace is found. I then called a friend, Dalton, to help guide us—he stays just below the hill. He joined us and led us to the palace—only that he too didn’t exactly know how its structured. That is how we found ourselves exactly at the palace’s main gate without even knowing we were there.
“Ninyi nani (who are you)?” was the welcome call we got as an array of soldiers ran from inside the gate to our car—about 20 metres away—as they cocked the guns. “Toka kwa gari,” one of them shouted, with the others surrounding us. We got out, our hands raised. “Ka chini (sit down),” a burly one near me retorted. As I moved to kneel, I saw a heavy boot land on my right shoulder, sending a chilling, sharp pain through my body. I tumbled, in the process hitting the same hand on the now ajar car door. With my balance lost, I fell. But as I struggled to kneel, a second thud came, this time sending me sprawling on the tarmack.
At this point I heard someone, probably their commander, ask them to stop and direct the others who had cocked not to fire. I was then ordered to remove my shoes (what is the purpose of this shoe-removing ritual whenever there is an arrest?)
We were then asked to identify ourselves—which we did, with our identity cards. Asked about our mission, we were candid, telling them we wanted to ascertain if indeed the army had besieged the Kabaka. Their commander, a dark, medium height fellow, and looking the youngest among them—then asked who exactly our “leader” was. I told him to speak to Mr Mwanguhya, since I was visibly angry—fuming to be exact.
But one incident struck me. The moment we said we were journalists from Daily Monitor, one of the soldiers had become excited, telling the others in Swahili, a language I speak, read and write, that they were expecting us. “Wacha hawo, afande ametwambia (Leave them, boss has told us about them).” Apart from their leaders, the rest, nine including three women, looked very drunk—and with no alcohol smell, we could only guess what they were high on.
Apparently, Lt. Col. Kulayigye, after receiving our call, knew we would make an attempt to get to the palace. From what they asked us, it was clear that he instructed them to compel us to tell them who had given us the deployment tip. Basically expecting us to break the oldest covenant of our trade: Never disclose your source.
One of the female soldiers moved close to me, this time all of us seated in the car—with only Mwanguhya out—and inquired if Daily Monitor was part of Bukedde, the Luganda publication of our competitor, Vision Group. I thought it unwise to respond to such ignorance and kept quiet.
Another asked if we spoke Luganda, or were Baganda. I told him we could “gamble” some Luganda. He them said: “Benyini babyeletedde (they have brought this upon themselves)”. This could have meant that the Baganda had courted trouble themselves. Realizing the implication of this statement in front of journalists, he quickly qualified it: “We love both the Kabaka and the President.”
Making no headway in the amateurish interrogation, the commander let Mwanguhya join us. He then came to my window—and apologised for any “embarrassment” we may have suffered. He asked us to report what we had observed and wished us a safe journey.
In the car, Lt. Col. Kulayigye called Mwanguhya trying to inquire about what we had seen. It is obvious that we had seen was a choreographed scene. Colleagues had been calling me earlier, saying NTV was running footage of the Kabaka’s palace being calm and their reporter, hoodwinked, was reporting that all was well. The army knew journalists would go to the palace and must have re-organised their deployment. At least the 10 we saw were clearly soldiers. When some of the royal guards came out to see what was going on, they were quickly ordered back.
Back in office, typing away the story on the page proved difficult as the pain in my shoulder kept increasing. My boss, Daniel Kalinaki, asked our sports editor, Mark Namanya, to come and help as the driver took me to AAR.
Later, as I lay on my bed, I thought myself lucky. I had throughout the day seen photos of corpses, people killed by bullets. I had come face to face with some of these trigger-happy soldiers, but gotten away with a sprained shoulder. Maybe it could have been worse, like it was with Kalundi Sserumaga, the host of a political talk show, Spectrum, on Radio One. After appearing on a show on WBS TV that reviews events of the week, he was bundled into an unmarked car and until this blog was posted, no one had an idea where he was or whether he’s alive.
These, we were told, were common occurrences in the Amin regime. So, have we come full circle?

A book worth reading: It's our turn to eat

2009-08-21T18:59:00.001+03:00

When the National Rainbow Coalition (NARC)—a loose conglomeration of opposition parties in Kenya won state power in 2002—most of the country chose to wine and dine. The celebration was not just because 24 “dictatorial” years of President Arap Moi were coming to an end; it was because most Kenyans perceived this as a burial of two major ills that had defined Moi’s regime; tribalism and corruption.
NARC, under Mwai Kibaki, had run on the change ticket and had promised to make graft and ethnicism history in Kenya. The man charged with the duty of fighting corruption by the new government was John Githongo, a Western-trained journalist and a former country director of Transparency International, who was barely in his 30s.
It’s Our Turn to Eat is a dramatic narration of Githongo’s hopes, just like of all Kenyans, which were raised in 2002, only to be dashed a few years later when he, just like most countrymen, realised that the change in leadership—only meant that. Corruption and tribalism under Kibaki had taken an even more cancerous jacket, enveloping the state with unrelenting vigour.
When Githongo was named anti-corruption czar, little did he know that his tribesmen, who were plotting a grand lootocracy of the country, were actually expecting cover from him. He even misunderstood the President’s gesture of offering him an office next to his (Kibaki’s) as a show of trust and support.
Determined, Githongo plunged into his job with the fervour of a newly-ordained priest. However, some months into his work, he realised something was amiss. Informers gave him tips that seemed to point to a mass theft of Kenyan public money by a clique of top ministers, most, like Githongo, hailing from the President’s central region. A deeper investigation is what led to the unearthing of the infamous Anglo-Leasing scandal, a major thrust upon which this biography is built.
Githongo discovered that the ministers had created a procurement scheme in which a non-existent company, Anglo-Leasing and Finance, purportedly based in Liverpool, UK, had been paid up to $750 million (Shs1.5 trillion), for supplying “ghost” goods and services to Kenya. When he confronted the suspects with this information, he was reminded about his Kikuyu roots and told his loyalty lay first with the tribe. Sure that these ministers were acting alone, he approached the President with the information and for his hard work, Kibaki announced Githongo’s demotion during a cabinet reshuffle, only to retract it verbally the next day!
It is at this point that Githongo, like many idealistic Kenyans who had injected faith in the new government, realised how things had remained the same. Like the animals in George Orwell’s Animal Farm, they saw no distinction between the pigs (NARC) and man (KANU).
But in telling Githongo’s story, renowned journalist Michela Wrong, who served as an African Affairs correspondent for the BBC, Reuters and Financial Times, also weaves the heart-rending tale of governance and politics gone wrong in Kenya. She exposes the misperception of state and resource control as an opportunity for self-enrichment and aggrandizement by a ‘tribe’ or clique in power, a concept from which the book derives its title.
Interestingly, the appeal to tribe by a small group of political vampires even when obviously the larger section never gets anything or only settles for crumbs is not just Kenya’s story. You can remove the Kenyan principals in this book and you will conveniently get replacements from about three-quarters of the rest of Africa. Such is the continetality of the corruption theme and bad governance.
So, what makes this book stand out? Michela Wrong’s narrative style is unique. She sets the book on a fast tempo that at some points, one thinks they are watching an action-packed movie. She is also a stickler for detail and mentions the nitty-gritty, which blend well with a pendulum swing into the historical and political past of Kenya.
The book’s integrity credentials are engraved further by the fact that despite being English, Michela Wrong bats no lid in exposing her government’s complicity in aiding vice in Africa. She writes about the British government’s decision to turn a deaf ear even when it was clear graft was eating away the Kenyan fabric and the UK was in position to call the shots. Instead, relying on cooked-up figures of economic recovery, they inject millions more into Kenya, knowing that the money will only end up in the purses of few politicians. The World Bank country directors, for example, opt to rent Kibakis’ house and live next to them!
When Githongo realised he was exposed and lacked political support, he opted to go into exile, instead sending his findings to the media. As the Kenyan public bayed for blood, some of top ministers named resigned. But like is the typical African plot, the now-soiled Kibaki brought them back to cabinet when the tempest had passed.
Anyone interested in Africa’s double tale of betrayal, sleaze, and manipulation, countered by patriotism, determination, hope, should have this book in their shelves.

Monitor will soldier on...despite harrassment

2009-08-13T12:46:00.002+03:00

I am writing this from the cold confines of my work station at the Daily Nation head offices in Nairobi. With print copies of my home papers not easy to come by, I have been hooked unto the net for the online versions and this morning, the headline that immediately caught my attention, just after logging unto the Monitor website was, “Bunyoro: Police grill Monitor editor”.
The long and short of the story was that top detectives had for over six hours on Wednesday grilled my boss, Daniel Kalinaki, the managing editor, over the publication of a letter by President Museveni that basically was calling for alienation of immigrant communities in the elective politics of Bunyoro region. This region has lately been discovered to be rich in oil, and the State is trying to make love overtures to it.
What followed the publication was a general public furor, with a bigger section of the population accusing the President of sowing seeds of discord and tribalism. Leaders of the immigrants in Bunyoro have subsequently written to the President and disputed his assertions. Some have threatened to sue him for high treason!
And trying to dodge the tempest, the high powers have moved to crack down on the messenger. I have it on good authority that the Daily Monitor sourced that document from a very reliable source; it is not in doubt that what the paper ran was an authentic document circulated by the President to his presidency minister, Beatrice Wabudeya, who is heading a team trying to “correct the historical ills of Bunyoro”.
The President’s cocoon now is to claim that the document was adulterated and that simple spelling mistakes occurred in the Monitor version. He also claims that the document was confidential and never meant for public consumption! What State House cannot contest is the fact that Museveni penned a document whose details were largely captured by the Monitor report. In fact some of his minions from Bunyoro, like Minister Matia Kasaija, have come out with blazing guns to back that position.
You would expect the President, in this charged atmosphere, to come out and defend his position; for I believe he had pretty good reasons for writing what he wrote. Why then employ his terror machine on innocent relayers of information? Is this not an admission of faulty thinking on his part? Has he finally realised that what he was saying was foolhardy? Or is he, in his mistaken thoughts convinced that he can stop the wheel of truth and debate by threatening professional journalists?
In these summons and harassment of my boss, I gain a sense of personal relief and gratification. Many people have tried to mudsling the Monitor by claiming it is a sell-out after its majority ownership was taken over by the Aga Khan. Others have tried to ridicule us, considering how young our newsroom is. Others have tried to give an impression that we were silenced when it comes to sticky issues regarding the presidency.
But once again, we have demonstrated that we still cherish the core values for which our paper was founded. We have sent a clear message to the public that nothing is too hot to handle, even if it involves the presidency. We have proved that we shall continue setting the agenda despite how “young or unexposed” we are. It is why we broke the Temangalo story and exposed the daylight misuse of power and influence. It is why we brought to light the freedom Lt. Magara was enjoying even as families of those he shot, maimed and killed were wallowing in misery. And it is why we stayed on it until justice was seen to be done. It is why one of our journalists, Moses Akena, was detained this week for refusing to be used as a state pawn in a hopeless political contest. It is why the press association yesterday demanded that former IGG Faith Mwondha be investigated for detaining our photojournalist, Stephen Otage.
The bottom line is that we believe in fairness but never silence.
And that will continue, even if it means handcuffing us at the altar of truth. It was the determination I read in Mr Kalinaki’s text that he sent me the night before his quizzing, saying he was not cowed by the CID summons. No believer in truth and press freedom should!

My Nairobi Diary - Part 2

2009-07-28T11:16:00.001+03:00

Wednesday July 22, 2009
I set my alarm for 7.30am and it goes off. I slowly stretch and get out of the bed. Again, I stick out my head, waiting for signs of migraine, but none is visible. This Tusker Lager thing seems harmless. After the bath I dash for breakfast and I am seated, waiting for our last presenter, Enoch-Ebeh, the Cameroonian country representative of AFSC in Burundi. He is a nice guy who has bailed me out. Realising how I was freezing during yesterday’s morning session, he offers me his jacket. We board the lift only to realise that he’s the guy in 305, the room next to mine.
His paper focuses on media as an instrument of peace building in Africa, asking what needs to be done differently. The greater debate is centered on how the media can be used as an early warning mechanism in the face of conflict. The big question is whether in attempting to pass a warning, media won’t be seen as actually instigating chaos or worse still being rubbished as trumpeters of doom where there is none. That is exactly what some of our Kenyan colleagues told us; reports of machetes being bought in large numbers were ignored, until the bloodshed began.
As the discussion draws to a close, we form a team to draw up a communiqué to be presented to the Information minister who will be chief guest at our dinner tonight. This document will also serve as our agenda going forwards. I am chosen a member and our facilitator, Rosemary Okello, chairs the discussion. We, in summary, agree that the media has not performed its peace-pushing duties to the maximum and we can do more. We also agree to form a forum that will unite journalists in the Horn of Africa and the Great Lakes Region in this cause; we call this the AMANI Media Forum. Amani is Kiswahili for peace. We zero on BBC Somali correspondent Daud Aweis as the chair and Kenya’s Jane Godia as secretary. I am picked to be Uganda country representative, basically tasked with setting up a chapter in Uganda.
The organisers give us some two hours to go to town and be back in time for the dinner. My bubbly friend Bob Wekesa, the president of the Kenya Journalists Association, opts that we go to the nearby Sagret Bar. Here we meet Karanja, one of the guys who has been translating during the workshop. I again settle for my Tusker Lager, Bob takes White Cap as Karanja orders for a concoction of spirits. We discuss the post-Moi Kenya and whether it is true the Kibaki regime has failed. One thing they agree on is that Kenya is freer and more democratic. Wekesa observes that never before have Kenyans enjoyed such freedom like they do now. They of course ask me for my take on the Museveni regime and I tell them it is a mixed set of fortunes; on one side appearing free but on closer examination having all signs of a dictatorship and obviously stinking corruption.
We are back in time for the dinner and like I feared, the information minister (Poghisio) doesn’t turn up. In his place is his deputy, Rtd. Maj. Godana. A young-looking fellow who tells us about his conflict experiences in Somalia and Yugoslavia. He reminds us about the role of responsible media and hands over certificates.
We are done and I opt to go sleep. I have to get up at 5.30am since the cab will be here at 6am. And our flight is scheduled for 8am.

Thursday July 23, 2009
I am up by 5pm. At 6am, the call from reception comes through. The cab is here. I find Hellen waiting for me at reception. Faesal is back to pick me, but his cab breaks down. He immediately calls back up and we have an elderly gentleman pick us. Along the way, he tells us a now familiar Kenyan story. His children studied in Uganda for their A’ levels at the St. Lawrence Schools. Because of the higher rates charged on East African students at Makerere, he opts they join Kenyatta University. But for the last three months his sons have been at home after the university was closed following a violent strike.
“That is the problem with Kenyan universities. Our children never finish courses in the stipulated time,” he laments. “I am sure instead of the three years; my son will finish eight years at university. I wish I had paid the high fees at Makerere and he finished in time.”
We are silent, since Hellen and I seem not to know how to respond. We are soon at the imposing Jomo Kenyatta airport and its check-in. The process is fast. I pass the duty-free to see if I can get a copy of President Paul Kagame’s recent biography, A Thousand Hills. I am told it has run out of stock, the same response I got in Entebbe. In fact I am told the publisher has run out of copies.
As we wait to board, I meet senior editor Odobo Bichachi of the Independent magazine. He is en-route from Sudan, Khartoum. Shortly, we are joined by Apollo Buregyeya, my former Mitchell Hall chairman at Makerere, who now lectures at the technology faculty at the same university. He is from Cairo, where he’s been doing some research. We are soon engrossed in the debate on race. These two guys tell me that racism is worse in the Arab world than it is in the West. Apollo tells us that the Arab lady who cleans his hotel room in Cairo, looks down upon him because he’s black. I find that hard to fathom but Bichachi re-emphasizes the point. He talks of how Arabs look at Black Africans as lesser beings; we discuss the Gadaffi turn-around to Africa after being snubbed by the Arab world and his crocodile attachment to black Africa.
We then board, the JKIA skyline is littered with Kenya Airways planes, once again making me shudder at the thought of Entebbe’s sight—50 minutes later. Again Capt. Corros pilots us, this time it is KQ411 flight. My seat 6F is next to the window and I am glued to the clouds. The guy next to me is in a striped suit, reading the UK’s Daily Telegraph. He holds a Kenyan passport; he could be one of the young budding entrepreneurs, running around the globe cutting and selling deals. Next to him is a lady, whom I can’t exactly place either in the upper youth bracket or late teens. She ignores calls for electronic gadgets to be switched off and continues listening to music from her i-Pod as the plane ascends.
Close to 10am, we land at Entebbe, Esu, this good driver, welcomes me and I hit the asphalt, dreamily, to Kampala.

My Nairobi Diary

2009-07-25T15:03:00.003+03:00

MONDAY JULY 20, 2009
Esu, my affable driver, picks me from my Kireka neighbourhood at 6am. It is a chilly morning but we have to get up early to beat the jam on Entebbe Road. I get to Entebbe Airport at about 7.30am, a few minutes before check-in. The last check-in point, which usually should be very through, does not look so, because despite holding only hand luggage, I make past way it with a deodorant spray in my bag. This naturally would not be accepted on board.
At 10.30am, our Kenya Airways flight, KQ411, is airborne. We are taken through the usual reminders, seat belts, switch off mobiles etc. The pilot is Capt. Corros and I must say I love the voice of the head stewardess. It sounds melodious as she wishes us a safe flight and promises continental breakfast. I am on seat 10F, next to the window and a seat beyond me, is a grumpy-looking man, who is dozing away. Probably this was a connecting flight for him, having travelled from much further. “Are plane flights better than road, I ask myself?” Apart from speed, I still think roads are good. You closely view the scenery, people, and can buy roast maize or chicken. Planes only give you the clouds view and no gonja (roast banana).
I am jolted from this reverie with announcement of breakfast. As it turns out, the continental offer is a glass of apple juice (looks like Splash) and some buns. As usual, the meager offer only stimulates your appetite, but again, remembering that we are just on a 45-minute flight, means I can gorge myself upon arrival in Nairobi.
As we close to touch down at Jomo Kenyatta Airport, Nairobi, there is an obvious contrast with Entebbe Airport. The fleet of Kenya Airways planes with their “Pride of Africa” banners strike you to the face. You can see a country proudly represented in the skies. The nostalgia for our own Uganda Airways affronts me chokingly. How did our government just choose to sell off everything that gave us some form of identity? And just last Sunday, our paper reported that now the airport was gonna be sold off to some one-month old Chinese company. Could the guys who keep telling us that we shall one day wake up and find ourselves mortgaged probably be having a point?

Initial impressions:
Service at JKIA is fast. And it is of course a very spacious port with greater activity. My cab driver to Kivi Milimani Hotel is Faesal (he writes it that way, but pronounces it “Faysal”), a chubby, bubbly man, about 30 years. Driving a “Harmonies”-owned cab, he quickly engages me in conversation. “Nairobi is cash-strapped,” he tells me. “We are trying to scrap through. I don’t know if we shall make it.”
“Maisha hiko hivyo kila pali,” I tell him in Swahili and he jolts to attention. He is visibly excited that I can speak Swahili and that becomes our communication mode, though he keeps punctuating his talk with English. As we get stuck in jam on Mombasa Road, near Nyayo Stadium, he tells me about the conflict between the government and Coca Cola over the re-branding of the stadium; a story I had read about a few days ago in the Daily Nation. He uses the opportunity to tell me how corrupt the government is and how it never allows noble projects thrive.
I ask him why there is jam in the mid-morning and he tells me that for that specific road, the vendors bribe the traffic cops to create jam so that they can vend their ware. “Some idea to sell to our vendors back home,” I think.
As we begin snaking to the city, he asks me about Esther—the lady who emerged victor in the Project Fame contest last year. I tell him I don’t know much though I had read in the papers that her album recording at Gallos Studio in South Africa was delayed and when it was finally done, it never impressed her and she has never launched it in Uganda. I tell him that once in a while I read her escapades in the tabloids—and he quips, “She was a beautiful girl. I loved her curves.” I use the chance to brag that that is a quality running through 90 per cent of Ugandan women—and he seems to fall for it.
We are finally at Kivi Milimani Hotel. The receptionist looks sleepy, Job, is his name. His feminine voice is unmistakable. He tells me I will board Room 306 and gives me the keys. 306 is a fairly spacious room. Well-carpeted, a Vono spring bed, 21-inch TV, with a nice bath tub without the rubber closure for the water escape. I wonder how I will be able to fill the tub with water for a bath. The balcony overlooks the swimming pool, but I wonder who can go to the pool, when Nairobi is freezing. July is a cold month in Nairobi and the temperature now must be doing 10-16 degrees Celsius. In fact, I feel the cold biting through me, and my stomach is rumbling.
I go to the reception and inquire if any other participants to the seminar have arrived. I am told I am the first and others are expected later in the day. I ask if I can have lunch and I am told the conference organizers had said this would be half-day boarding. So, I could only expect dinner. I remind Job that I have come in from far and will not stay till night to have a meal. I tell him to give me the food and sort it out with whoever called me to Nairobi. Reading the determination on my face, he capitulates and tells me to go to the restaurant where I am served chapatti, Swahili chicken and Stoney soda.
Full and brimming, I go back to 306—was that not Rubashov’s prison room number in Darkness at Noon? It seems to be freezing up here. I turn on the TV and go to Citizen TV. They are broadcasting a live resistance by a community that was being evicted. So, these problems are just not Ugandan, considering that I have received an update on my phone telling me our President Museveni today supervised the arrest of a policeman in Nateete, a Kampala suburb, who had a few days ago overseen the eviction of a family and in the process forcefully kissed a 12-year-old girl.
I turn to K24, and it is the once-famous Jeff Koinange interviewing the also once-famous David Matsanga about the effectiveness of a local tribunal in trying the perpetrators of the 2008 post-election violence in Kenya. I didn’t know that Matsanga, who led the Kony side in the collapsed Juba talks with the Kampala government, was now an authority in these matters. It is getting colder, I decide to jump to bed, but this is after I have sent text messages to Timo, Davy and Mwangi, some of my high school and university OBs, who now work in Nairobi. I tell them they can come and catch me at the hotel; each promises to.
I wake up and it is 6pm. I go brush and move downstairs. I take a seat in one of the shelters next to the pool and order for a cold Tusker Lager. With alcoholic content of 4.2%, it is close to my favourite Bell brand. And even the taste, flat like the Bell. As I sip away, a tall, dark-skinned man shouts at a distance, “You must be Wanyama!” I respond in the affirmative and he shouts back, “I am Enoch.”
Mr Enoch Opuka is the programme manager with American Friends Service Committee, the NGO that has facilitated my trip to Kenya. We have previously, since we made contact, been chatting on mail and he tells me he’s Luhya. Once in a while, we exchange mail in broken Lubukhusu, a Gishu equivalent of western Kenya. He has actually promised to buy me two beers when I get to Nairobi.

Old boys, new memories
Just about that time, Timo and Davy drive in. They are in jackets and Timo has gloves on. We are down to conversation. High school memories. They tell me what most of my Kenyan high school classmates are up to, as I fill them on the few Ugandan colleagues whose stations I am aware of. They also order for Tusker Lager and we are soon caught in the Migingo debate. They take the typical Kenyan position of “this is our island” and I tell them we must wait for the surveyors’ report. In the process we debate the strengths of our armies just in case we went to war, with me telling them our boys are tried and tested and them insisting they have superior fire power.
As I mention our UPDF role in Somalia, discussion shifts to the impact of Somali piracy money in Kenya. They tell me about a Nairobi suburb called Isili, which has become the hub of Somalis in Kenya (similar to our own Kisomali in Mengo-Kisenyi). They tell me transactions here are done in US dollars which people carry in bags. This they say is mostly money received from the humongous ransoms paid to pirates in the Gulf of Eden and Indian Ocean. Ultimately, the Somalis have taken to investing in real estate business in Nairobi and prices are sky-rocketing. The locals, I am told, are finding it hard to compete for plots of land and houses as the Somalis offer about three-times the market prices.
I have my dinner during the conversation and some minutes to 11pm, Timo and Davy seek to retire but not before assuring me that tomorrow evening, they will take me on a guided tour of Nairobi town. I take to my room and I doze off.

TUESDAY, JULY 21, 2009
My guide notes indicate that we must be seated in Jacaranda Room by 8.15am, so that events proper kick-off at 8.30am. But by 6am I am already awake and I try to look for that headache, caused by the new beer brand, but find none. To the contrast, I look sharper. I turn on the telly and KTN is the network. They, like K24, are still gloating after one of their own was named the CNN African Journalist of 2009 in South Africa. The top news item though, is cabinet’s failure to agree on whether to form a local tribunal to handle post-election violence masterminds. They also report about increasing cases of road rage, where angered by other motorists, drivers pull guns and shoot each other. The latest case is that of a former police officer, who after another motorist overtook him from the wrong lane, gives chase, catches up with him and shoots.
I turn on the water heater and make it to the bath. About 7.30pm I am at the restaurant for breakfast and I am seated by 8.15 in the conference room. I scan around to see any familiar faces and there is none, then about 5 minutes later, my former workmate at The New Vision Hellen Mukiibi saunters in. she is the other delegate from Kampala. She comes to my bench and we are already doing our Luganda.

Event proper
Mr Opoka formally welcomes us and we do the introductions. There are journalists and editors from Burundi, Rwanda, DR Congo, Kenya, Somalia, Ethiopia and Uganda. Ms Netlyn Bernard, the Haitian deputy Africa regional director of AFSC, gives us an overview of what the conference is about. Under the theme Media and Peace: Conflict Sensitive Analysis and Reporting, we are here to share experiences on how the media can be used as a tool for peace.
With the intros done, we do break tea and it is time to listen to our presenters. The first is Dr Mustafa Ali, a PhD holder in Media and International Relations and also the Executive Director of the World Conference of Religions for Peace. His paper focuses on the evolution of the electronic and print media in the Horn of Africa and its role in promoting justice peace and democracy.
He took us through the evolution of media, with greater focus on new media (blogs, YouTube, twitter) and their challenges. He also reminded us that we are a powerful tool that can promote peace through communicating, educating, correcting misperceptions, humanising people in conflict and wars, and serving as an early warning mechanism while helping frame conflict situations (contextualizing).
It was discussion time and the tales were as harrowing as they were edifying. In the different groups, we get accounts of reporting in war. Our Somalia colleagues tell us how the Al Shabab terrorists call into news rooms before bulletins to censor what goes on air. One lady tells me how her producer was shot and killed as they were covering a story. It is a tough world out there. The Burundian story is a successful one. First, it was the media hyping the war, reporting corpses and offering grandeur interviews to either the government generals or then rebels. Then, seeing the mayhem around them, they realized there was a greater calling than just profiteering from war; they saw the need to become a tool for peace. Radios, newspapers began running joint editorials, broadcasts, calling for peace. At one point, all radios had to relay programmes from a central point. War for peace had been launched. Interestingly, with pressure from other international groups, the warring factions in Burundi had no choice but to sit together and make peace. The media had played a central role in the process.
The afternoon session was by the much-respected veteran journalist and editor, Mitch Odero, whose presentation was focused on the power of the editor in anaylsing and reporting on conflict in conflict areas.
Besides the usual, the revelation of the new 5Cs as the drivers of news was interesting. Conflict, controversy, cast of character, crime, have come to replace the 4Ws and H.

Nairobi nightlife/nyama choma
Evening time and Timo is back, this time Davy has gone upcountry and it is Mwangi—my Literature classmate at university who comes to see me. We catch a few pints at Kivi before hitting town proper.
We first decide to go and eat the muchomo (roast goat) at a noisy, cold joint called The Hood. Because of the biting cold, they bring us a sigiri (charcoal stove) next to our table just to keep our legs warm. When the muchomo comes, I swear it looks like an entire goat! It also comes with Kiyenyeji (a meal of mashed Irish potatoes and other stuff). Having gorged ourselves to our fill, we decide to go to Westlands suburb and settle at Black Diamond, a bar turned dancehall; and it is obviously an East-meets-West joint.
Judging from the throngs of white men and black girls, Black Diamond is probably equal to our Bubbles or Fat Boyz in Kisementi. Only difference here being that the black girls have no time for black guys. I thought I would probably meet a lady and basically have a chat on Nairobi’s nightlife, but none wants to listen to me. Not until one hanging nearby hears Mwangi and I talk about Uganda. She quickly asks if I am not Kenyan, which I reply to the affirmative.
Looks like that is the turning point. I am quickly bundled among the “tourists” and I can have a chat. She tells me she’s Linda, a student at Kenyatta University. But when I begin to explore stuff like her course, I see how uneasy she gets. Obviously she must be another lady of the night, passing for a university student. So, these things just don’t end in Kampala. How far yet how close! She orders for a drink and in no time, a host of her friends are around us. Timo and Mwangi too have company. We are the only black guys getting attention. The rest is reserved for bazungu. A friend drops by and after several drinks; we decide to drop her at Umoja. When we make this announcement, we are dropped like hot coals. Our friends dash to catch some of the left-over bazungu. As we walk out, I see Linda clinging unto a white man fit to be her granddad—feigning excitement.
We drop our friend at Umoja Estate and its time to hit the trail back to Kivi. Along the way, we make a stop at Galileo Night club, but apart from the flesh peddlers, there is nothing to write home about. Maybe painfully noting is how these girls, some barely 18, are exposing their bodies in what is an obviously chilly Nairobi night. We ignore the calls for discount services from the sex workers, some shouting in Kikuyu, and we drive back. When I hit my bed, at about 4am, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I must be up before 8am…
(To be continued)

Kajeke's exit: The cry of a Mbalelite

2009-07-16T17:31:00.002+03:00

In 1991, I made the long trip back home. With my mum, the four siblings we were, had in early 1985 taken to economic exile in Kenya. There, we had first lived at the border Malaba town, then moved to Ndalu, near River Nzoia and later central Kitale town as my mother taught in a couple of schools around there.
Then, in 1991, my old man decided that we should return to Uganda. He was running a clinic in the middle of Mbale town and we settled in a colonial relic mansion in Senior Quarters, two blocks away from the famous Mt. Elgon Hotel. There, I enrolled at the modest Fairway Primary School and in no short time; Mbale had become the best place I had ever lived.
It is where I gained my education foundation, made friends, got the warmth of relatives and generally began a journey to maturity. I remember how we would swarm Mbale Stadium during games and the manner we took to streets, either as victors or losers, and sang and made merry. I remember one day, the good old D’Souza, our Asian headmaster, chiding us for singing “ani yabagamba, abaana ba D’Souza mubasobola” (Who told, you could easily take on D’Souza’s children?). He reminded us how he did not want us, black kids, shouting his name on Mbale streets.
Even when it came to joining secondary school, Nabumali, a few minutes’ drive from Mbale town became my first choice. It was the age when you went to any school in any part of the region and still flourished academically. My choice was partly because Mbale to me had become an identity, an abode. It was here, under the Yoga administration, that we cut our teeth as teenagers, with the accompanying escapades. The escapes to Club Oasis in the middle of Mbale town for a night out and et cetera.
When I broke from the yoke of Mbale, I went to Jinja College, but there, I never really amalgamated. No wonder I had to return to Mbale College for A’ Level, did a short stint at the Islamic University in Mbale before finally heading to Makerere.
Mbale, to me, was my launch pad. I remember growing up in a Mbale that had well-paved streets, with the lighting from Municipal Council offices down to Indian Quarters all functional. I remember how we would take to the greenery of Cricket Ground and play games or watch the young couples hang around. Uhuru Park opposite Nkoma SS was another relaxing point for us, especially when with cousins we had just visited Uncle Gideon down at Health Manpower offices.
I was lucky to have seen these last vestiges of planned Mbale because what followed thereafter, in early 2000s was the rape of a town that many thought had given credence to Churchill’s description of Uganda as Africa’s Pearl.

When Mayor Kanindo took over, the town crumbled like a pack of cards. The greenery was no more as the capitalist greed caught up with Mbale. Parks, the golf course, wetlands, were all overrun in the mad dash for property. In extreme cases, as was revealed by the Fiona Egunyu Commission, plots were either double or triple allocated. Ministers and their protégés jumped into the fray; the lights no more, potholes took over and quickly the town gained the notoriety of a sick abode. Quickly, it was competing for honours among the worst of this country’s towns!
Many thought that perhaps the town’s problems stemmed from a leadership that had overstayed its time.

The likes of Eng. Sakwa, Justice Masika, Late Wapakhabulo, Wanjusi Wasieba, Late Muyiiyi, were thought to be the problem. The quest for a young leadership took over. That’s how people barely out of their 20s like Mayor Kanindo and MP Wilfred Kajeke came to the scene. The longing for fresh blood, hope that the unblemished would start a new chapter…
But who knew that these would be the same guys, who would push to death, a staggering Mbale? That brings me to the concern of this blog. Yesterday’s resignation of Mbale Municipality MP Wilfred Kajeke from Parliament on grounds that he has realized he can’t do much to change the corruption in this country and has therefore opted to quit.
Reading his resignation speech, one would see the work of a genius, the words of a democrat, but that’s just where they stopped-words. Because beneath it, Kajeke hid the truth of his buy-out by the NRM government. Beneath his speech, he hid the fact that he had cut a deal to cede the constituency that he gained on the opposition FDC ticket to the NRM government. What Kajeke never mentioned in Parliament was that up to Shs120 million had exchanged hands, some of it in installments to help the NRM take over the constituency and make a political statement. What he never mentioned was the impulsive action borne of a Besigye-Kayihura spat in Rock Hotel sometime last year during the fuel crisis.

He did not make mention of the story about him going abroad to study and leave an orphaned constituency....
What he concealed from his constituents was the fact that an ego and superiority war between him and fellow FDC MP Nandala Mafabi was eating him slowly like a cancer. These and many more are the truths that Mbale people will never get to know.
The outside world, longing for a symbol to demonise this government, will jump and hail him. For me, I weep for a generation given the chance but decided to screw it up. I will weep for the young people that Kajeke and Kanindo represented but let down. Above all, I will weep for my much-cherished Mbale and how deep it has sunk in the murky waters that is corruption.

Mao a rebel? Surprises never cease!!

2009-07-01T12:07:00.004+03:00

In life, there are surprises. Some are the heartache type: “How could she fool me for all these years when she had another man?” Or the betrayal type: “Kale, she was such a snake, pretending to be my friend when she was stabbing me in the back”. Then of course the upbeat type; after ages, meeting this guy you went to school with and “Oh God! As you’ve changed. That tummy and flabby cheeks, you must be working with URA!”
These, colleagues, are the surprises we are used to. But how do you explain it, when a politician, one of the few you had respect for, knew was unblemished, could actually be a brain behind plans to destabilise the country? This was the conflict of thought I was caught up in two days ago when I heard that Gulu District chairman Norbert Mao could actually be planning an armed rebellion.
As a young man in my mid-teens, one programme that I never missed was the Capital Gang on Capital Radio. Every Saturday 10am would find me in front of my small set (and later as Information prefect Jinja College, in front of the official school Sanyo radio), waiting for the crispy Patrick Quarcoo voice, about to introduce the panelists; Norbert Mao, Winnie Byanyima, Charles Onyango Obbo and Frank Katusiime. Listening to that team was like drinking deep from the Pierian Spring of knowledge. The analysis, anecdotes, insight was overwhelming. They never left you the same.
It is at this time that I grew fond of Norbert Mao, then Gulu Municipality MP. One line I can never forget from this master of anecdotes was when, while debating a piece written by Rosa Whittaker (Museveni’s American image manager) in The New Vision, he labelled her FILTH (Failed in London Trying Here). Whittaker had in her piece derided the Ugandan opposition, labeling them as shallow and interested in non-issues. Mao hit back saying Whittaker belonged to the class of ‘white’ expatriates, who after failing to make it in their own countries, dashed to Africa and masqueraded as authorities, hence the acronym.
Yes, that was the impressionable Mao. His English perfect, analysis deep, humour overflowing. And in an age when we had grown to know politicians as unprincipled, Mao did the unthinkable---vowed that he would be MP for only two terms and quit. And he lived up to his promise—despite general public consensus that he was an influential, moderate legislator who was needed in a House, where few of the members could be taken seriously.
In 2007, I was engaged in a heated debate with my friend Eve on which direction this country should take. Eve was convinced that we needed a total overhaul of the system, and made the suggestion that only Norbert Mao could lead this revolution. At the mention of Mao, I nodded. He is a diplomat, never sounded “angry” like other opposition politicians and was an orator.
That is how Mao had left an imprint on thousands of young people like me and Eve. In fact, when the Obamamania wave swept the world last year—many of my colleagues saw Mao in his light.
But how then are we expected to react when it now dawns on us that Mao could be an accomplice in planning an armed rebellion in this country? How then should we react when we learn that a leader of a district that was crudely hit by 20 years of war has documents calling for another rebellion just as the wounds of the old war are trying to heal?
Many of us may have bones to pick with this government. We suffer under its thievery and lootocracy. Bleed its corruption and nepotism. Get robbed through taxes whose benefits we never see. But most of us are in agreement that war can never be the solution to these woes. Many of us believe that this country’s future lies in building strong institutions that in the long run will be the cornerstone of democracy. We may believe in civil resistance but never armed war. We know that an empowered people (like in Kenya, Iran and Honduras) are the best asset in resisting dictatorship but not necessary an armed population. We know that blood begets blood.
So, how should we react when a beacon of hope now turns a demon of war? Mao can argue that he never believed the 53-page document on the Uganda Patriotic Front was a serious document. He can downplay it and say it was just passed to him by a graduate student from the UK. But one wonders, why for a whole year did he never let security know of these plans? The law is clear on these issues. What was he doing with that flash disc a year later? What about claims from the army spokesperson that Mao was actually editing the document and making recommendations, some in pen and his own handwriting?
I was among the legion of people disregarding the army’s recent claims that a rebel group was in the making—for I believed that any Ugandan would know the foolhardiness of such a venture coming right on the heels of the LRA fiasco.
But with Mao coming out publicly to admit that he had a document spelling out resistance and armed rebellion, I am lost for words. And what was he doing parading such information in a public café? You surely don’t need to be a rocket scientist (or better still a lawyer like Mao) to know that that memory stick would land you in jail for eternity. Maybe as my friend Fredrick Womakuyu told me yesterday: “At times, the guys we think are bright are not after all.”

Movie industry is hopeful, but first we fix the hopelessness

2009-06-29T14:06:00.002+03:00

On July 15th, my teacher and mentor, Sr. Dr. Dipio Dominic, the head of the Makerere University Literature Department, will launch her first feature film titled “A meal to forget” at the National Theatre.
Based on a true story of a man who killed his two children after failing to fend for them, the film explores issues of child welfare in the context of the challenging economic situation.
For the amiable Dr Dipio, with whom I worked as a respondent in the shooting of the documentary “Etiquette in Makerere” in 2006, the launch of her first feature film should be a cause for joy and celebration. And indeed it will be, albeit briefly.
For any movie-maker in Uganda, the nightmare of producing a work that you know will be pirated the next minute has never been any less. Ugandans have made it a habit to look for movies on the black market.
Last week, our NMG training honcho, Dr Peter Mwesige, recommended that I watch “State of Play”, the Russell Crowe movie on investigative journalism. Unable to quickly marshal the Shs12,000 needed at Cineplex Cinema, a friend offered to get it for me from Wandegeya. And God, for Shs2,000, I had the pirated version!
So, dear Dr Dipio will have her movie probably on the black market. But worse still, is the pain that when arrested, whoever is pirating the movie will be charged with “trespass” and fined some few coins! The Copyright Bill, remember has never been assented to into law. The same afflicts musicians and writers.
And yet, the movie industry if well-managed would be one of the greatest revenue earners for this country. The government has realised this and to try and stem the spiraling unemployment among the youth, during the reading of the budget recently announced a tax waiver on television, digital and video cameras. The thinking is that by making these gadgets more accessible, the industry should be able to flourish.
But it is pure foolhardy to imagine that only tax waivers shall spur growth of the film industry. I have already mentioned the question of the copyright law. It is crucial to protect people’s creative work and make it very punishable to pirate work. It is not fair that after others have shed sweat and blood to get their products out, others merely photocopy that work and reap benefits.
In Uganda for example, the distributors pay a paltry Shs3 million to Shs5 million for films that go for not less than Shs10 million during production. The movie-producers are therefore double looted; by the distributors and the pirates.
But beyond that, the players themselves need to style up. This morning, I tried to get information on the industry from the president of the Uganda Federation of the Movie Industry on how many players are in the market—and he confessed ignorance. That surely speaks volumes about the managers of the industry. All he could estimate was some 1,200 distribution outlets around Kampala.
Failure to harmonise the players explains why for example their quest to enter a partnership with Uganda Revenue Authority on taxation is failing. The movie-makers had hoped that by letting URA tax them and give them tax PINs, it could help fight piracy, since then the stakes would be higher. But a disorganised sector means such negotiations can’t take place. No wonder the government reluctance because they get nothing in return (read taxes) from the industry.
Importantly though, the makers of the films must understand the interests of the market. Their colleagues in the music sector have mastered this, explaining its tremendous growth. Movies should have local appeal and closer-to-home themes. We may not mind the sound and picture, but surely the themes can strike a chord with us. I mean, millions of Ugandans today watch poorly shot, heavily-accented Nigerian movies—why? Because of the messages. I am sure good content can still appeal, irrespective of the container.
Thirteen years ago, Nollywood was at the same point Ugawood is today. But they chose to get some basics right and today; Nollywood is worth $250 million, the second biggest income earning sector next to oil. Why shouldn’t Uganda pull off similar success??

Please, return these children to their families

2009-06-03T12:16:00.003+03:00

In the last two weeks, I have had to write these two articles in the paper;

9-year-old girl goes missing
Nine-year-old Nicole Lingomo, a daughter to Ramathan Lingomo, a resident of Kevina Village, Nsambya, Kampala, went missing on Friday May, 2009. According to her father, a Congolese refugee, she had gone to fetch water at a nearby tank when she disappeared at 9am. She was dressed in a green skirt, black blouse and wearing sandals. The Primary Two pupil at Nakivubo Primary School had plaited hair.
The matter has been reported at Old Kampala Police Station, but her worried parents appeal to anyone who can help them trace her to call 0753-063532.

Help trace this girl
Thirteen-year-old Melon Natukunda, an orphan from Agape Children’s Village, a charitable orphanage, in Kaggala, Bukerere, Mukono District went missing on June 1, 2009. The Primary 4 pupil, who speaks Luganda and Runyankole, disappeared while on her way to Agape Nursery and Primary School. She was wearing a blue T-shirt with the inscription “God is Able” and blue jeans trousers.
The case has been reported to Seeta Police Post but the management of Agape Christian Village appeals to whoever comes across her to contact them on phones lines; 0782-767843, 0772-948550 or 0782-337817.

So, who is taking our children?
On Friday 29th June, I was at my desk trying to make sure we beat the early edition deadline. As I went about editing the lead story, a lady from our advertising section walked to my desk, behind her was a graying old man, visibly worried. She told me the old man had something to tell me; paying half-attention, I asked him what the problem was.

In Swahili, he began, with a sob: “It is my daughter,” jolting me into full attention.
“Nataka mutoto wangu. Mbona mutu anaiba kasichana kangu. Nataka mutoto wangu (I want my girl. Why would anyone steal my girl? I need her back”).

The old man is Ramathan Lingomo quoted in the first story. In tears, he told me how his last born in a family of five had gone to a nearby tank to fetch water. Then suddenly Nicole was nowhere. Not even the peers who play with her could tell how and where she had gone. The pain on the old man’s face was discernible. It was obvious this little girl, born in exile, was his pet. Her play tool; the one who afforded him a smile as he drowned in the pangs of life in a strange land; as he waited for his share of rations from the refugee agency. The gap this little girl’s disappearance had caused in the family’s life was as glaring as a vacant plot in a slum.

Today, a week after, I called Mzee Ramathan. Nicole is still lost but today he received a call from an NGO that helps in these cases. He was preparing to go and meet them---hoping it is a move that will help his little sweet girl get re-united with the family. It is living in stretched hope, but still it is hope.

So, yesterday, Isaiah, our advertising manager came to my desk and told me: “Here is another case of a missing child. They saw the story you did on the first girl and they also want help.”
That is the case of Melon (picture above), lost from an orphanage. I have not talked to the caretakers. But still I feel the pain. I actually fear to talk to people close to these children because their tears send me to the brink of wailing too.

But, who is this taking our children? Who took little Nicole and Melon? Who is holding these little girls, probable female shakers of tomorrow’s Uganda? Who can’t let these girls have the peace and laughter of their family and friends?

I have heard of tales of child sacrifice blah blah. I just don’t want to imagine these little girls have been slayed. As was inscribed on Melon’s T-shirt, “God is Able”. If anything, God should be able to restore these girls to where they belong.
Watch your kids folks---don’t let them stray. We live in a cruel world.

Yes-our joking leaders

2009-06-02T20:15:00.003+03:00

I had decided to give this blog a break from politics. I had turned to my second passion; literature, fiction.
But there are times when you can’t help it. When you look at the things around you, around your leaders and yeah, you think you need to say something---even if you are pretty sure you may change nothing. Yes, posterity will not judge me harshly; that I looked on as theft, plunder, and lootocracy went on unabated.
For example, the other day this minister for Local Government, the bespectacled Adolf Mwesige told a gathering of local councillors, that this government was preparing to pay councillors gratuity, in a bid to show “gratification for the great work the councilors do”.
According to the minister, this would roll out starting 2010 financial year and taxpayers (you and me) would have to fork out no less than Shs3 billion for the start. Ok, when friends tell me we have jokers running this country, I try to vouchsafe for them; but surely how do you make a case in front of such mediocrity, such pedestrianism like that exhibited by Hon. Adolf?
What this servant of the nation is saying is that after some fellow runs to be councilor, basically bribes the voters to let them allow him represent them either at sub-county or district; then in the course appropriates all tenders to himself or friends, attends a session once a month or twice in three months, draw a fat allowance; his policies are basically disregarded---that after such selfless service, me, the taxpayer, should thank this guy. Fear for his job security and say, “Man, since voters have now kicked you out, because you were a louse, here is your kasimo, your envelope!”
Yes, Adolf and ilk want us to believe that politics is now a profession at the level of teachers, nurses, engineers and journalists et al. That we should reward people who simply seek power, aggrandize themselves, loot whatever is in their vicinity; after such exploits, we should say, what a job well done!
This colleagues, comes in the face and news that our budget to be read this month will announce a default in payment of pension to the tune of over Shs130 billion because the government is broke. This colleague, will come on the backdrop that civil servants in 41 districts have missed their April salaries because the Treasury was dry and the supplementary budget unapproved by the House.
Yes, on the backdrop of all these, our government will pay gratuity to councilors, just a year before the next election—who smells a rat here, like I do?????

The pains of a sub editor

2009-06-01T09:24:00.002+03:00

In a bid to put bread and butter on my table---and that of family and some friends, I try to make sense of stories. Going by the label sub editor, I am tasked to make stories comprehensible and sensible before they get to our much-beloved readers. That should not be a tough call--but look below and see how some people make me earn my bread. This is a raw copy of a story that was supposed to get to you, our beloved reader;

Congolese women using coca cola for quire private parts pains.

BY xxxxxxxxxxxx.

The staving Congolese women in Moroto Municipality have taken advantage of using coca cola soda for quire private’s parts pains after sex business.

More than 70 Congolese women earlier this month were chest away from the Barracks by the authorities from Moroto Division Barracks where they were staying with their husbands.

The Congolese women brought by the UPDF soldiers from Congo has their wives are stranded in Moroto municipality without any food supplies and they have turned into sex business for survives in the municipality of moroto.

“Although we are stranded but we shall not die because we have made friends in the municipality we only relying with any person who comes and buy for us Beer and eating other issues later,” they said.

Two Congolese women Albonda shalani and Landombo Rashal among others who stay in Narwosi slam area Moroto municipality yesterday revealed to daily monitor that most of their colleagues have got contract of sleeping with 7 men per night “in case of private pains they buy coca cola soda for quire the pain” Ms Albonda said.

The acting CAO incharg for Bokora Koriang Timothy moroto district said. I think there is need for emergency research on how to help these Congolese women so that they should not spoil the name of moroto municipality,” he said.

He said the government of Uganda has given every foreigner of staying in Uganda “we need to cooperate UPDF and the district on how to help these women” he said. END

The Rude Awakening

2009-05-31T15:59:00.001+03:00

It looked an evening of great promise. As a fresher, I had always craved for the first time when I would “hang out” with one of our own—the much craved for university girls, whose reputation I had met months before I went to the Ivory Tower.
Having sat for my A-level in a typical village school deep in Bugisu, my impressions about university girls had largely been formed by stories that the few boys from Namabasa, who had been to Makerere, narrated whenever they came back for holidays. One boy in particular, Wandwasi, told us of girls whose skimpy attire had caught the eye of the “big people” in the city that the wealthiest of men came to set camp at the campus just to have a look at these marvels of creation.
“These girls, who usually go by the names of Conny, Vicky or Valeria,” Wandwasi would tell us, “Speak through the teeth and roll words so easily that you lousy folk of Namabasa would have to strain your ears just to get a word.”
So, when I emerged one of the best in my district and made it to campus, as was the common reference, I couldn’t wait to have my own Vicky. The feeling I had when I first set foot in the famed Mitchell Hall was akin to that of Armstrong when he landed on the moon. I knew one of my immediate accomplishments would be to acquire a Vicky and begin compiling tales for my hungry folk back in the village.
Then came Nabbosa; like the first rain after a hot season. Relieving, soothing, refreshing. The first weeks had been tough for me. It looked like all my attempts at winning attention of the girls were hitting a dead end. All the girls would offer was a “hi”, uttered so fast that it seemed like a burden talking to me. But Nabbosa was different. I met her on the last day of the Mitchell Bazaar, a market display that would in the night turn into an alcohol drinking binge event.
She was courteous and never lost interest even when I told her I had just set foot in Kampala. She was studying the revered Law and took no offence at interacting with me; an Arts student. I had heard of the “attitude” Law students carried and never thought I would get too close to one like I did on this evening.
A few days later, Nabbosa and I were a hot item. My feelings saturated by her, I decided it was time to hit the fun trail. Being ignorant of the city, it was her task to name the place. TLC, she said, was the in-thing for campusers. A health club during the day, university students would descend on it in the evening, converting it into a semi-brothel.
We stormed the club, her in a black, tight-fitting dress that exposed her delicate curves and me in my jeans, that although had seen the better of days, remained my favourite. The T-shirt, with a big Makerere logo and “We Build for the Future” slogan, completed the picture for me. Around us was a sea of humanity. We had to rub and shove before “capturing” some space in a corner.
Nabbosa left to pick our drinks as I sent my eyes on a journey of optical nutrition. They darted from here to there and the skimpy dresses, shapely legs, curvaceous bums ensured I was not starved, though a little scandalised. How would people bare flesh so easily and still look angelic? I wondered.
Suddenly, I was jolted from my dreamy world with a thump on my right cheek. Landing heavily, like a crashing helicopter, the stranger’s hand rested on my cheek, immediately implanting a mark. Half-dazed, I looked up, only to meet another thump, this time accompanied with a rude, “Do you know the girl you are playing with?”
Before I could finish my, “Which girl are you…” question, I found myself held by the belt as I was shoved out of the club, half-walking, half-flying. The so-called bouncers declared me persona-non grata and bellowed that I leave the premises faster than I came.
A week later, I found a note at my B11 doorstep. “Don, I am sorry. I didn’t know how to explain it. The guy who accosted you is Solomon; he pays my fees. I never expected to meet him there; he had told me he was upcountry. Truth is, he is my fiancé and hope is that after school, I will be his wife. You are a nice guy, I hope you find a girl to treasure you. Nabbosa.”

The millet garden

2009-05-28T10:59:00.000+03:00

Nadunga was the perfect girl. The gap in her upper teeth gave her the look of a princess, her not-so-bulging curves would turn even the most impotent of men on. Her catwalk needed no red carpet, it accompanied her to the well, forest and even pit-latrine.
If her looks sent you crazy, her voice would leave you in a trance. Unlike other girls in Namabasa village, whose pre-occupation was gossip and many times discussing the size of the men’s manhood or lack of it, Nadunga only opened her square lips to utter sense.
You can therefore understand the envy among the other boys of Namabasa Secondary School; when Nadunga chose me as her boyfriend. The battle to win Nadunga’s soul had begun four years ago when we joined Senior One. By then, she had all the features of a belle and the four years had only refined them. Looking at her now, one would see copper ore that had gone through the flame to end up into pure metal.
I was in the crowd of boys who did all that they could to at least get her attention---even if it only meant attracting her smile. Unlike my friends who were gifted in height, I was very short—compelling most of my friends to describe me as down-to-earth.
But I was above the surface when it came to the mastery of English Language. Whereas most of my friends had had their primary schooling in the village, I had studied at Fairway Primary School in the middle of Mbale town. I spoke with an accent that mesmerised the village kids. My English received similar attention like Nadunga’s beauty.
But that was not a straight ticket for me. It had taken three years of making passes and offering my packed lunch, usually busima and malewa, to finally get real audience with Nadunga. And when that came, in the first term of S4, I had spoken in a manner that would shame Mark Antony.
“My heart bleeds for your love,” I had started the conversation conducted under the mango tree. “Your looks have sent electric waves down my spine. For the past three years, I have been a silent sufferer of your good looks. Admit me into your heart and I promise to forever make it flourish.”
She replied: “You look good. I love your English even if I don’t understand what you say. You can become my man but let me not see you with other girls.”
It was the best feeling I had since I had been able to withstand the surgeon’s knife two years ago during my rite of passage to manhood.
But the real quest for Nadunga had not been in her company. I would listen in amazement as boys talked of how they had floored girls, how the girls would scream in the millet gardens as they made love.
My craving to make love to Nadunga grew by the day.
one evening I gathered courage as we munched at the roast maize I had carried for lunch. “Sweetest of hearts---my inner soul longs to mate with yours,” I began.
Looking at me with a blank stare, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I want to make love to you,” I said this with utmost difficulty.
She promised to think about it and give me feedback.
The following Monday, she walked to me and told me to prepare—for the coming Friday would be our big day. Nadunga was finally letting me take her virginity. I quickly made it a point to brag to my friends, we even agreed on a common venue so that they would hang in the neighbourhood and watch me make the conquest.
The venue was a millet garden near school. At exactly 2pm that Friday, I walked to the garden. I dashed to the corner I had agreed to meet Nadunga.
There she was lying with her legs spread. I fidgeted with my shorts, just as I finished removing them; I saw the black object slide slowly near my foot. God! It was a snake. I did not have the time to pull up my shorts. “Help! Help!” I screamed as I dashed off, not giving Nadunga a second look. My friends jumped from their hide-outs and also ran like madmen. We ran towards the school and it is only when I got to the school football pitch did I realise I was naked. By this time, the whole school had come to see the cause of the noise. I never spoke to Nadunga again.

MPs must be evaluated

2009-05-06T15:02:00.002+03:00

What should have been a peaceful consultative meeting between MPs and officials of the African Leadership Instititute, a civil society organisation, on Tuesday turned rowdy as legislators accused the institute of seeking to destroy them.
Apparently, the institute, headed by former spy chief David Pulkol, has previously carried out an assessment of the MPs performance, with the results, mainly unflattering, getting a lot of media coverage.
So, when Mr Pulkol revealed that a similar report would be made public at the end of this month, the legislators in the Tuesday meeting rose up in arms. They say the methodology employed by the African Leadership Institute is not accurate. They fault the researchers of concentrating on their submissions on the floor of the House, committee sessions and district meetings, yet under the multi-party dispensation, MPs make most submissions in the caucuses and are restrained from speaking on the floor of the House.
I agree that the assessors can be more accurate. What the researchers should do is get records of caucus proceedings from the party whips and reflect these in their findings. They also can look at MPs contributions elsewhere, say international fora. But that does not mean the MPs’ contributions on the floor, committees and districts should be disregarded. The parties may have already chosen movers of motions but surely individuals make suggestions, respond to Bills and can mover Private Members Bills. It is not true, therefore, to conclude that MPs are supposed to be mute just because the parties have not asked them to talk.
By law, MPs are ex-officio members of their district local government executive councils. They are expected to attend meetings there and brief their councils on developments in the House. It is also the time they get feedback from the district. It is foolhardy for the MPs to disregard these meetings, claiming they are run by their rivals.
And just because Mr Pulkol is a former spy chief, does not mean he can’t do objective research. Rather than judge him by his past, MPs should critique his work and methods.
MPs are public officials. It is important that the public knows how they are performing. That is why they should heed Mr Kassiano Wadri, the Opposition Chief Whip’s advice: “Let us open ourselves to public surgery. We must be able to absorb all this positive criticism. The moment we close the door to criticism, we shall be judged wrongly.”
I made the same argument for judges some time back. They hated assessment by the Public Service Commission, saying their independence was at stake. But the PSC is mandated by law to do this, like the judiciary, they are independent. It is only fair that people be checked to see if they meet standards for the jobs they were recruited.

Cheeye: The price of arrogance

2009-04-10T16:15:00.003+03:00

Ok, I have been sitting here and wondering. The rest of us have been glowing after seeing an official deemed corrupt being sent to the cooler. In a country where we were convinced corruption had become a part of life, to see a culprit whisked to jail offered some fresh air.
But just what could be going on in the mind of the culprit? From Justice Katutsi’s ruling, it is obvious that part of Cheeye’s 10-year jail term could have sprung from his arrogant attitude during the trial. Katutsi talked of a man, who neither showed remorse nor guilt. A man who exuded arrogance and cared less about the wretched of the earth, the sufferers of HIV/Aids from whom he was stealing.
So, what could have given Cheeye this clout even if it became increasingly clear that evidence of his culpability was growing by the minute? Why did man, who knew that his own officers were exposing evidence of outright theft, still have the knack to carry himself about with a swagger?
Three things are clear; Cheeye knew he was part of a system that had embraced graft, he also knew punishment in this country only comes when sanctioned by the President and it had something to do with his character.
It is the truth universally acknowledged that coruption in Uganda has come to stay. Every day one flips through the papers, there is evidence of an official nibbling at public funds. We have grown to relate politicians to theft, civil servants to bribery, roads to potholes, etc. This state of affairs was not lost on Cheeye. He knew that theft has become a part of our social fabric. And in any case, it was a paltry Shs120 million, considering that we rub shoulders with zillionaire thieves on our streets daily.
Cheeye’s arrogance, hence could have been borne from this fact.
We also have known that to get punished for stealing public funds in this country, the President must have sanctioned the punishment. The Temangalo debacle is evidence of this. There might not have been theft of money but blatant disregard of procurement procedure was visible even to the blind. And yet, like a newspaper page, the matter was folded the moment the President made it clear that he did not want the it pursued further.
Cheeye, I am convinced, still knew he had the President’s ear. He had afterall been the President’s economic intelligence ear for a while. Bursting deals like the NSSF Nsimbe housing project that sent Mpumas, Mugoyas and Bakokos packing. Cheeye took every chance to let anyone who cared to listen how he had the President’s hotline. A story is told of how the government under pressure from donors, sought to have some people sacrificed over the Global Fund theft. Cheeye was confroted by a league of policemen; he drew a gun and told them off, reminding them that he talked directly to the President. It took another call from Museveni, a squad from ISO, to get him to court.
Anyone with this clout and “connections” could afford Cheeye’s arrogance.
As a friend has also observed, Cheeye was an accident in waiting. Tales of him outrightly buying sluts on the streets are public secrets. Whispers do the rounds of how he would buy the women, take them to lodges and when done with sex, push objects into their “secret” parts. One time, a slut had to escape through a window if at all. That he exuded arrogance and lack of remorse, this could have been the root.

But as Cheeye sits in whatever cell in Luzira, can we say the time to shake the status quo has begun? Or was he a mere sacrificial lamb??

Museveni & family; the tale of Wafukho

2009-03-10T12:59:00.003+03:00

After being “let down” by elite politicians for a while, President Museveni is now turning to his family for support. He told the BBC that his decision to appoint his wife, Janet, to the “demanding” Karamoja Affairs docket was because elite ministers had shunned the area, prompting him to ask for his wife’s help.
True, in 2006, Maj. Tom Butime turned down the appointment to that ministry after his constituents demanded that he does so or gets recalled. Butime had previously served in other ministries, including internal affairs and his constituents viewed his posting to Karamoja as a demotion.
So, our stuck President turns to his wife for help. And note that Mr Museveni also told BBC that his wife’s performance as Ruhama MP had been sterling so far, another credit.
Ladies and gentlemen, simply put, our President is running out of people to trust and deliver his agenda. The only people he can rely on now are family members, whom he said he does not care if they take up “positions of sacrifice”. Yes, it is a sacrifice to become your brother’s presidential adviser (Salim Saleh) or head one of your father’s military elite outfits (Muhoozi Kainerugaba).
What does this mean? Is it only the President’s kin, who if they take positions that involve hefty budgets, troops of military escorts, are sacrificing? What about the over 200 teachers in Adjumani who every morning troop to class to teach yet they are not on government payroll and are not sure of pay at the end’s month? What should we call this?
What about the hundreds of traffic officers manning our streets, standing in the heat of sun or cold of rain---at times even minus basics like umbrellas, boots and jackets? What should we call this---opulence, paradise?
The President should tell us the truth. Many years in power have created him an inexplicable political web, leaving him unsure of who is for or against him. In typical African fashion, when we are scared of even our shadows, it is in blood relatives that we take refuge in. The adage “blood is thicker than water” comes in handy here.
While I was a kid, my mum told me a tale of Wafukho, a village boy who went to town in search of wealth. Indeed he got the money and as expected, got swarmed in the pleasures of town. The succulent thighs of women, bitter-sweet content of the bottle and the dazzling lights of the disco. Before long, Wafukho was coughing and passing out stool. The women deserted him, the bottle became sour, and the money vanished. It is then that he remembered home. He trooped back and his mother—whom he had long ignored welcomed him back---nursed him and he died in her arms.
My mum’s tale might have aimed at teaching me the basics of never forgetting one’s roots but it also showed how thick the blood bond can be.
When everyone else has deserted you—you can be sure one person will stick by you—your relative. This notion is not lost to our President.

Let's regulate caning of teachers

2009-03-08T18:49:00.000+03:00

Sometime in the late 90s, this country was gripped with a raging debate on whether teachers should continue administering corporal punishment to students. It was then a norm that caning was the most used punitive measure and some schools had taken it to a whole new level—whipping and flogging students.
With cases of students getting injuries and being hospitalised because of canes administered by teachers, the civil liberties’ movement brought pressure to bear on the education ministry, which ultimately banned the practice. The adage “Spare the rod and spoil the rod” was buried forever.
In its place, teachers were asked to use more corrective means like counseling to guide learners—never mind if some of these learners---were outrightly hard-headed.
But it looks like the hunter suddenly turned hunted. In the recent past, it is cases of teachers being flogged that are making the headlines. It has now become the norm for many a politician to flog teachers, either found drunk, not in class or even with untucked shirts.
In March 2008, MP Emily Otekat canned two teachers, Isaac Opit from Omagoro Primary School and Alfred Opolot from Orupe Primary School after he found them drinking alcohol.
Pader Resident District Commissioner Santa Okot Lapolo also about two years back caned a teacher in front of pupils who cheered as the stick landed on the poor man’s behind.
But perhaps the mother of them all was the recent humiliation of Mr Jackson Bushentince, the headmaster of Ombatini Secondary School in Maracha/Terego District. He had reportedly mismanaged the school and was treating the teachers unfairly. Unwilling to let their school go to the doldrums, the students took matters into their own hands.
After rounding up the headmaster at his home, they administered five strokes of the cane, frogmarched him for 12 kilometres to the DEO’s office and demanded his transfer. Just picture a haggard-looking headmaster, with his bottom aching, being frogmarched by students, he ideally, should be disciplining!!
It is obvious that the action of these students is rooted in a societal construct that caning is a punitive measure. It is an indictment on those who banned the practice that they might have done a cosmetic duty. The practice might have subsided but it has never left people’s minds---and at any given opportunity, people will employ it. Even the students who are apparently being shielded.
Maybe we should now critically think about legalizing caning but with a view to regulating it—considering that teachers are now becoming victims. Maybe we should let all folk and sundry know that before caning a teacher, they should be subjected to a fair hearing.
If the teacher is drunk for example, we may want him to sober up first, and then ask where he got money to “waste” considering his meager earnings. Having heard his side of the story, we can then choose where to administer the strokes. The bottoms maybe unfair, considering that he must sit as he marks assignments. We can then opt for palms or knocking the ankle. We all got these kinds of punishment at some point.
Surely, if we must cane our teachers, it can be done in an organized manner.
But one may want to ask what happened to our teacher of old. The graceful, respectable village character whom everyone held in high esteem. What happened to the granaries of knowledge and custodians of culture?
Just at what point did teachers lose it that they can now become targets of can-happy politicians and students?

Lessons from Kenyan fires

2009-02-02T19:47:00.000+03:00

Last week, two disasters hit Kenya. On Wednesday, one of Nairobi’s busiest supermarkets, Nakumatt, went up in flames, consuming 25 people and dozens others are still missing. Just when Kenyans were still absorbing that shock, another tragedy struck.
On Saturday, a fuel tanker overturned in the town of Molo. Like it happens in all poverty-stricken neighbourhoods, masses of people swarmed the accident scene to siphon fuel. Suddenly, the scene that was teeming with hundreds of people was in flames. By yesterday, the death toll was 142.
The accounts of how the fire started remain contradictory but there are strong suggestions that one man, barred by the police from siphoning the fuel, dropped a burning cigarette and caused the inferno.
In Uganda, incidents like the Molo one are not new.
As these tragedies have shown, there is need by the authorities to do a mass sensitization on the dangers of siphoning fuel at accident scenes. In Uganda, some of the dark spots are known and it may be best to educate people around these areas.
But importantly, one may want to ask; what would compel someone to risk their lives to siphon fuel even when they know their lives are endangered? Kenyan Prime Minister Raila Odinga after visiting the death scene at Molo said, “Poverty is pushing our people into doing desperate things just to get through one more day.”
Unless there is economic empowerment, we shall continue seeing cases of people staking their lives for such petty gains like petrol spilt from a tanker.
Our Disaster Preparedness Ministry and the Police may also want to ask if they have a quick-response team to handle such cases. How fast can they move to cordon off an accident scene?
In the Nakumatt case, authorities are being blamed for having blocked the fire exits, which left most people trapped in the building. In Uganda, and Kampala especially, the city council has been blamed for approving building plans that lack safety provisions. Whereas Nakumatt might have had a fire exit, many buildings in this town do not have such provisions. Even simple gadgets like fire extinguishers are lacking. In the case that a fire breaks out, these buildings turn into death traps.
My heart reaches out to all those that lost their dear ones in the tragic Kenyan incidents, but that should serve as a lesson to authorities on disaster preparedness and management.

Kibaki has stabbed Kenyan media in the back

2009-01-03T12:05:00.002+03:00

On Sunday night, what the Kenyan media and public had dreaded for a long time became reality. From his State House resort in Mombasa, President Mwai Kibaki announced that he had assented to the controversial Communications (Amendment) Bill 2008, which all stakeholders, except a small clique of politicians, agree is draconian and retrogressive.
One of the clauses in the law allows the information minister, through the Communications Commission, to dictate to media houses what content to broadcast and when to broadcast it. In brief, this commission will set the agenda for the media houses.
And should a media house defy these regulations, the minister has the right to confiscate its equipments and close down the media house indefinitely.
In justifying his action, President Kibaki said the Bill would enable him achieve his 10 per cent economic growth target by 2012 through regulation of e-commerce, a core component his Vision 2013.
But his silence on clauses that directly relate to broadcast and its regulation was as conspicuous as it was suspect. First of all, to empower a minister (many times a non-professional), to dictate content for media houses is weird, and does aggress the basic principles of a free press.
In his statement, Mr Kibaki said he was assenting to the Bill in order to safeguard “culture, moral values and nationhood”. Another cover up---considering that neither the Bill nor Kibaki define what these are.
The relationship between the State and the media in Kenya (like most African countries) has been strained one. In the controversial 2007 presidential election, it was the media that was at the forefront in exposing most of the electoral malpractices. It is this exposure, coupled with international pressure that forced President Kibaki to share power with ODM’s Raila Odinga. Kibaki’s latest action could be interpreted as pay-back for the media, for basically labeling him an electoral fraudster.
The media could also have become a victim of the power play in Kenya. It is obvious that when this Bill was passed in Parliament, most of the ODM MPs were away in their constituencies running in the grassroots elections. Prime Minister Raila Odinga made it clear that he would not back it, and just last week, received a petition from the Kenyan Editors Guild, which he promised to deliver to the President.
Kibaki's insistence on signing the Bill, could, therefore, have been to "show" Raila where power lies.
But the danger in this Bill is what impact it could have in the region. In Uganda, already independent media houses, like ours, have been the target of State repression and intimidation.
Just last week, three of our journalists were quizzed over a story thought to be “prejudicial to state security”. If we had a law, like the one Kibaki has passed, probably, we would have been shut down and our equipment taken.
That is why, all media houses in this region and the public must come out strongly to condemn the slow, dictatorial path, Mr Kibaki is setting Kenya on.

Jamwa axing: Another lesson for doubting Thomases

2008-12-05T12:08:00.000+03:00

"Trust not hounds brethren--they love the smell of blood." (Don)

So, the NSSF boss Chandi Jamwa and his deputy Prof. Mondo Kagonyera have been shown the exit. Anyone surprised?? Not me at least. I saw it coming. Not because the pair was incompetent but rather because they trusted politicians—worse still NRM politicians. This by the way—does not apply to Prof. Kagonyera directly. He is a politician; it is poor Jamwa, the civil servant, who suffered.
Look, you know in the middle of the NSSF-Temangalo scandal, where the security minister, Amama Mbabazi and his finance counterpart Ezra Suruma, were accused of peddling influence to have the workers fund buy their wetland at Shs11 billion, Mr Jamwa felt cornered and penned a letter to the President, detailing the pressure he had gone through to sign the cheques.
In Jamwa’s confession, he told the president how some of the guys had even described the State House bedroom, to show their political power. They had told him how they contributed to the president’s campaign coffers and how they could slot a good word for him if he “behaved”. Scared of these people’s might, the poor lad okayed the release of the money.
That was before the press got the story, splashed it in the media and forced parliament to act. Act---maybe clown, because later, the “informed” Attorney General said the whole parliamentary probe was a farce since the MPs lacked powers to enforce the Leadership Code.
Anyway I digress. So, Jamwa first puts up a brave face, actually shielding the culprits, until realizes, he is cornered. He asks the House to let him confess in camera. He then pours out his soul, at one point asking the MPs, “What could you have done were you in my position?”
Then, he writes to the President, seeking protection. Showing, how despite his large mass, he was dwarfed and cowed. That was the pinnacle of his mistakes. Thinking the president could shield him from the hawks—hawks he has worked with for the past three decades.
The moment the President summoned MPs and ordered them to get off Mbabazi’s back, I knew Jamwa’s goose was cooked. The President was shielding the men Jamwa has tried to expose. And once Mbabazi was safe—it was time to placate the public—somehow at least—and guess who the sacrifice would be? Jamwa, the technocrat. And collateral damage involved Prof. Kagonyera.
This is not to absolve Jamwa—he made a mistake to trust politicians. He should have come clean from the word go. But like most other people—he now has learnt---trust not Museveni and his clique. They use you and dump you---like a piece of toilet paper.

Stranger today

2008-12-01T10:08:00.002+03:00

Something strange has happened to me today. You know when I walked into office, everyone kept staring at me. During the morning management meeting, it looked like the team could not concentrate and I saw members stealing glances-at me.
When I moved down to the canteen to have breakfast, the waiter kind of fumbled and before I knew it, the flask was on the ground—broken!! She had also been looking at me—with this strange look.
As I made my way back to my desk—I met this colleague—who after gazing at me for a while---asked, “Don, are you one of the candidates for the Kyadondo North by-election?”
I stared back, baffled. Then he contextualized. “Anti it is that suit. Why are you in a suit?”
Brethren, that is what you suffer when you go past your known bitenge and loose-fitting shirts to a Wandegeya-made suit. I am suffering it today.

Today, I endorse Obama

2008-10-29T15:25:00.001+03:00

So, you are wondering what an endorsement from a small, inconsequential blog will mean to this gargantuan race. This race that seems a clash of generations, civilizations.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this blog is not as redundant as you suppose. Just the other day (and I swear by my…) a friend called from Canada, saying the moment he asked Google for “serious” African blogs---this one popped up first. So, I know this endorsement means a lot---influencewise.

And let me make this clear. I have a host of buddies, residing in places like California and America in general, who look at me for political guidance. One of them is my good old Solo. To show his appreciation for the guidance offered in months gone past—he sent me an Obama T-shirt. So, you know where I am coming from.

That in the first place explains why I am endorsing Obama. I have his T-shirt. Look, the McCain guys never bothered to send me anything, why should I be nice to them?

Secondly, this endorsement is rooted in the fact that fellow smart editors have backed Obama. Look, Washington Post, New York Times, Chicago Tribune and even Alaska’s Daily Anchorage have thrown their weight behind this Kenyan. So, how can I betray my own? I mean fellow editors? Above all, I am told the only American TV channel rooting for McCain is Fox. For heaven’s sake, I have nothing personal against wildlife, but to be associated with hounds---

Then as stated earlier, Obama is Kenyan. Forget this white-mother thing. Look, for us Africans, a child belongs to the father’s tribe. Things are very patrilineal here. No debate. So, who would not want his neighbour running the world? At least, when I go to “outside countries”, I can boast, “You see folks, treat us East Africans well. We have the power to manage the credit crunch, besides, calling off the war in Iraq.” That conversation supposedly will occur in places like Amsterdam, when maybe I am in the infamous Red Light district.

But importantly for the Kenyans, a poll done two years ago by BBC showed that they were the “most frustrated” people on earth. This, of course, was after the Kibaki regime had turned round on all promises made as they swept aside Mtukufu Raisi Moi. Now, what a better way to boost their morale? Who knows, a new poll taken next year may show Kenyans as “the happiest” people on earth, considering that their Luo boy is sitting in an awkwardly shaped office—Oval.
Colleagues, it is on this academic and not-so-populist stand that The Other View throws its weight behind Barack Obama. Go vote, where possible, rig.

Els' departure; the true story

2008-10-27T10:39:00.002+03:00

Our media has been awash with news of the departure of The New Vision editor-in-chief, Belgian Els de Termmerman, who ascended the position about two years ago. First, I realized that no one was willing to tell the real tale behind her exit. When she was asked, all she could say was the “working environment could not guarantee her the editorial independence she had been assured of when she was handed the job.”
And for the other protagonist, CEO Robert Kabushenga, he kept telling news houses that Els had quit on her volition and he kept reiterating how no individual was bigger than the media house. This morning, he published a statement saying the same, adding though that editorial independence was still assured.
Take it or leave it---Els’ decision to quit was not a result of accumulated incidences that could not guarantee her “editorial independence”. It was a few “minutes of madness” and a disagreement with Kabushenga that led to that decision. This was how the events played out.
On Tuesday last week, The New Vision’s lead story talked of heads of state arriving for the tripartite summit. But the story below the headline had nothing to do with that headline. The story, written by Anne Mugisa, actually was based on an interview she had with the Zimbabwean opposition officials, including MDC Vice-President Thokozani Khupe, who were in Kampala to state their case against Mugabe, who also was here for the summit.
Confidential reports indicate that President Museveni was not very impressed with the notion of a state paper giving space to a group that was here to “attack” his guest Mugabe. He then got in touch with Kabushenga to make his dissatisfaction known. The loyal CEO promised to make do for that “oversight”.
However, Els was not going to have anything like that. I directly worked under Els for a year, and many of the times, I did the foreign news pages, which she supervised. I can assure all folk and sundry that Els was no admirer of Mugabe. She categorises him among the African despots, who have ruined this continent.
She, therefore, told Kabushenga to his face that nothing like “making up” for Mugabe would have space in the paper. The sly Kabushenga beat her to the game. He got the article written under the “Vision Reporter” cover and took it to the chief sub. So, on Friday morning, Els wakes up to find a second page headline; “Museveni blasts traitors.” The story was basically meant to go even with the first.
That is when all hell broke loose. Els interpreted Kabushenga’s decision to by-pass her as unfair and it is what she called “failure to guarantee editorial independence”.
In the mad dash of fury, she confronted Kabushenga, and with the CEO standing his ground, threatened to quit. Jumping unto the line, Kabushenga told her to make good on her threat. At a “thuperthonic” pace as Kabushenga himself would say, Els sent the resignation mail, Kabushenga assented to it. End of story or was it?
Truth is there was nothing like systematic failure to guarantee editorial independence that could have pushed Els out. It was more of an ego clash and an act of fury. Kabushenga is a self-professed Movementist but he must get some credit---he has given editors in New Vision some space to do their work. That is how the New Vision led the crusade to defend Mabira Forest, one of those incidents that put this government to test.
Of course you can’t downplay the fact that in Els, Kabushenga saw a limitation of his own influence. Els was appointed by the President and some times took instructions from him. A Kabushenga, whom we all know is a politician in-the-waiting, may not have been happy sharing a room with someone who could also get his master’s ear. It would be best if he called all the shots---that is how, he quickly endorsed Els’ resignation. To have one competitor less.
But, and BELIEVE ME ON THIS; Els may have realized her folly. My sources tell me she is negotiating a come back and is willing to issue an apology. Just don’t rule out anything.
And finally, those Namanve bastards (read Red Pepper) on Saturday claimed I and some colleagues were among those fired from The New Vision. Facts are;
I resigned from New Vision to take up a slightly senior position in Monitor. When I tendered my resignation, Els rejected it. My salary was increased but I insisted.
Maria Muzaaki resigned in August to go for further studies in Oslo. She is pursuing a Masters in Journalism there.
Mariam Alowo resigned and is pursuing a Masters Degree in Sweden.
Rita Muzira resigned after getting a job with Uganda Revenue Authority.
Penlope Ankunda has resigned to go into PR, although Kabushenga is still making effort to convince her to stay.
Bernard Opwonya resigned and went to NTV.
It is not true that we were fired. Ignore those gossips.

Nasasira is a shameful sham

2008-10-21T17:40:00.002+03:00

Now, for starters and probably colleagues outside this country, there is a man who for many score years has passed under the title of Works Minister of the hallowed republic of Uganda. This ministry has over the years got appendages like “transport”, “telecommunications”, “lands” etc.
But the bottom line is that Eng. John Nasasira has been the custodian of roads and their state in this country. Now, one may be wondering why I would make a whole, respectable minister the topic for this blog. First of all, whereas he passes for a roads minister, there are literally no roads in this country. In few places, there are strips of tarmac guarding potholes, and these, we call roads.
Briefly put, this man has been overseeing a ghost ministry. But I wouldn’t mind the ghost ministry since he is not the first along these lines. We have had ghost soldiers, ghost teachers and in Kampala, most women offer ghost love. So, Ugandans being a very forgiving people, I was willing to extend my olive branch to Nasasira---but the problem is that unlike others—he is quick to pin others, forgetting the log in his eye.
Just the other day, after the NSSF wall collapsed (compelling me to write the dirge in my past blog), he rushed to point out that engineers of Roko, the firm building the Pension Towers, should be held responsible for the calamity. Never mind that realizing his goof days later, he called a second press conference to “clarify” his position on the earlier remarks. (Typical African politician mentality).
Now, where on earth does Nasasira (meaning I forgive) get the balls to ask anyone to take responsibility? Nasasira, whose over 10 years of managing the works ministry has seen him oversee road carnage and accidents that have taken thousands of lives?
Where does Nasasira, whose ministry can not even fix the smallest pothole in Kampala, albeit having one of the biggest budgets, get the guts to take others to task?
Where does this son of Kazo draw the energy to blame others when it is crystal clear that had we had better road supervision the 30 lives we lost in Lugazi last weekend could have been saved?
From the Rome disaster in 1991 when an Air Uganda crashed to the latest Lugazi road accident, I have never seen our pothole minister raise his head a single day and admit that he is to blame. When trains collide in China in the subways and when accidents of great magnitude happen in the developed West—ministers owe up and step aside.
But in Uganda—that would be asking too much. That is why the Nasasiras of this world can rush to blame others but are never men enough to say “I fell short of expectations”.

NB: This bad politics may be a question of the past soon. Last weekend, I held a meeting similar to one Obama held in 2002 to brainstorm about his political future. The people think by 2016, I should be ready to storm the national political scene---and bring the much-awaited change. Prayers and support is what I ask of you.

For colleagues dead in duty line

2008-10-15T14:41:00.002+03:00

Tuesday shall remain dark
A moment of sorrow to this nation
Sorrow, for on that day, 8 brothers passed on
They were never your newspaper VIPs
Maybe never mentioned even at a village meeting
But crucial to the nation they were

Workers, they were
On a workers fund project they sweated
A Pension Tower they built
Never mind that they never had a pension themselves
A tower built from savings of the nation’s workers.
They laboured to put some kalo on their tables
For others like Julius Otike, it was quest for tuition
Tuition to see him rise to a better calling

Instead
He ended up buried
In a debris of soil—a soul taken
Though it could have been saved
Had the “Squealers” apportioned the right measures
Of sand and cement.
The papers screamed---but
A day, a week, after,
They will just be another stastic
Added unto the many faceless—
Who have perished—to no notice.

But trust me brothers
I know the roll will call
Steven Odong ----Absent
Willie Okello ----Absent
Richard Angweno ----Absent
Silver Olowo ----Absent
JB Tushabe----Absent
Nasib Kisembo----Absent

But to the common worker
You will always be present
A symbol of resilience, hardwork, sacrifice

Be Afraid; the Movement is on its way down!!

2008-09-30T18:34:00.001+03:00

Ladies and gentlemen, first let me make it clear. I have never been an advocate for chaos. I don’t entirely agree with the Cavarian principle that revolutions only succeed after being watered by the blood of their patriots. I do not believe in anarchy.
But behold, for this is what Uganda may be headed to. The squabbles going on among the government top brass can not be treated lightly. We have a potential explosive situation in our midst and if not resolved well (and I fear it won’t), tough times await us.
So, what is this fear gnawing at me? Look, the entire ruling NRM party is now fractured. And it is not a mere ideological contest or civilized disagreement. It is a native clash and in African terms, such clashes usually turn bloody.
The party secretary general is accused of breaking procurement rules as he sells his land to a national workers savings fund. Before we know it, his political foes (ironically from his party) have launched a full-scale war against him. “Bring him down!” they shout their voices hoarse.
The ridiculous thing here is that even those baying for his blood have their own dirty pasts. Some are in courts facing charges of aggravated lootocracy. Talk of the pot calling the kettle black.
But that is not the tragedy of the farce playing out before us. The potential bomb lies in how petty, personal and dangerous the differences have become. Now, one of those who was pushing for Amama Mbabazi’s censure is now implicated in a botched bank ‘robbery’. Maj. Gen. Muhwezi says he’s targeted because he wants Mr Mbabazi down.
If surely these politicians, who apparently belong to the same party, are setting up each other and doing whatever it takes to decimate each other, then we can expect the worst! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE WORST.
A friend, who is well-connected intimated to me that a senior spy chief is gonna be arrested too. This will follow the arrest of the former health minister. Thereafter, what should we expect?
All these guys have connections with the military and intelligence. They will not go down alone. Unlike in the past where the government officials fought opposition party members, this is a unique war. It is an internal war. And trust me, the causalities will be many.
It is obvious now that the only thread holding the NRM together is the President. God forbid should he die now—trust me we shall see the end of the NRM. But even if he lives on forever, the cracks in the NRM are so glaring that it will need more than the usual amount of cement to fix. Question is; do we have the materials?

Mbeki's exit; South Africa sets the pace

2008-09-22T15:04:00.000+03:00

I know a lot has been said about the Mbeki demise and I will not get into the nitty-gritty of his fall and the impact on South Africa and the wider region. I just want to focus on the divide this event has exposed about Africa.
In fact, the exit of Mbeki makes me admire South Africa and weep for the rest of Africa, especially my own Uganda.
Mbeki has been pushed out of office after a judge concluded that the corruption charges that were being placed on Jacob Zuma were actually politically-engineered. Remember it is this same Zuma, who had earlier survived rape charges, in a ruling that courts again concluded were fabricated.
So, with the latest ruling on graft, the ANC executive found it prudent that Mbeki steps down, considering that he is implicated for trying to witch-hunt a man many already see as his successor.
Similar events have happened in Uganda—but with different resolutions. When Dr Kizza Besigye returned from self-imposed exile in November 2005, a few months to the presidential election in 2006, he was arrested and charged with rape. Alongside, charges of terrorism were slapped on him.
Of course, like in Mbeki’s case, President Museveni was trying to bar his once liberation colleague from assuming the presidency.
In the rape trial against Besigye, the judge ruled that the State had made “an amateurish attempt” in trying to frame Besigye and dismissed the charges with costs.
But that is where the difference between South Africa and Uganda comes into play. In South Africa, the ruling ANC party quickly moved in to order a Mbeki exit since through normal lenses, he had done wrong. He had to take responsibility and resign.
In Uganda, no one even thought about asking the president to take responsibility since the ruling absolving Besigye was in effect a condemnation of the government, and consequently the president.
But that should surprise nobody. In a country where taking political responsibility is unheard of, it would be asking too much to expect a president to resign for framing a political opponent.
That is where South Africans, despite the cloud of uncertainty caused by Mbeki’s exit, should pat themselves on the back. They are ahead of the rest of us.

Politicians manipulating tribe

2008-09-16T11:59:00.001+03:00

Just before the genocide broke out in Rwanda in 1994, a silent campaign had been carried out to pollute the minds of a certain tribe against the other. Through covert propaganda and at times outright broadcasts on radios like Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines (RTLM), the Hutu, especially youth, were made to believe that Tutsis were the biggest threat to their “prosperity” (read political power). Therefore, to ensure this continued “success and dominance”, it was important to send all these “cockroaches” to their creator. That is how up to 800,000 Tutsis and moderate Hutus came to be slaughtered in this genocide.
The real contest here, however, was about political dominance. The Hutu Habyarimana regime having realized that it was becoming increasingly unpopular and the RPF rebels led by Fred Rwigyema were gaining ground, decided to whip up tribal sentiments, with disastrous results of course.
Many of those youth who were armed with machetes to hack people, probably did not even know what governance meant. The neighbours, who rose up against neighbours just because they belonged to the “wrong” tribe, probably were not even living on more than a dollar a day. They were condemned to the same fate but somehow, someone had convinced them that the “other” was the problem.
But that is how our politicians whip up tribal sentiments to pursue selfish interests.
The same scenario replayed itself in Kenya after the disputed 2007 December presidential polls. With cries of cheating from both sides (PNU and ODM), Kenya became paralysed and divided on tribal grounds. Central Kenya, for example became a no-go area for Luos, while the greater part of Rift Valley province was turned into a blood field for the Kikuyu. They were massacred without mercy.
And again, it was the politicians behind the machinations.
Wondering why I am going about this topic? I was really infuriated this week when I heard Uganda Security Minister Amama Mbabazi claim the investigation into his questionable land sale to the National Social Security Fund is driven by tribal hate.
Through a minion, MP Barnabas Tinkasiimire, the minister claims people asking simple questions like why procurement rules were broached, are actually aiming at bringing down Bakiga politicians---what BULL SHIT!!
Like the Tutsi and Kenyan politicians, Mbabazi and co. are jumping to the oldest tricks in the trade. Whip up tribal sentiments, make the whole tribe feel persecuted and divert attention from the core issues.
Unfortunately (or is it fortunately?), such tricks have worked. In 1999, President Museveni accused his now political rival Kizza Besigye of using the wrong forum, when he pointed out weaknesses in the NRM. He ordered a court martial for him, considering that Besigye was a soldier. But a tribal delegation from his native Rukungiri made an exodus to Kampala and the court martial was called off.
The same happened when former health minister, then primary education minister Jim Muhwezi was accused of abuse of office. A group of elders from Rukungiri came to Kampala to make a case for their son. Much as Parliament censured him, he still bounced back to Parliament and later Cabinet.
I will therefore not be surprised if a group of elders from Kanungu trek to Kampala to save their son. Irrespective of what the parliamentary probe might discover and recommend, the elders will prevail upon the President and their son shall remain in public office.
That is why I shed off tribe long ago. I am an African. Period.

NSSF; workers should not swallow the bait

2008-09-08T18:02:00.002+03:00

After about a fortnight of media blitz on the famous or is it infamous NSSF scandal, I have decided to add my voice. It may not be to alter policy or create a head to roll at the mighty NSSF House, but well, let it not be said that I kept silent when everyone tried to salvage the pennies left in the coffers after the ‘revolutionaries’ had had their share.
Look, a public institution buys land in the excess of 400 acres, does not advertise in the media that it is in search of this land, buys it from a senior minister, who also does not advertise anywhere that he has that land; and his backers want us to believe that this is a deal cleaner than Desdemona’s purity.
Never mind also that this institution being public should subscribe to basic rules of procurement, which it did not. I have heard NSSF apologists like Andrew Mwenda and Simon Kasyate argue that the project of building cheap housing facilities for workers is noble and other than kill the entire project, let’s sort out the players but let the project proceed.
I find this fallacious but I will come to it later. Now, let’s begin with Minister Mbabazi. Obviously he has a right to sell his land at the highest price possible as an individual, but surely, when the buyer is a public institution and the price under contest, we surely can’t just look the other side and quote forces of demand and supply at play. We are right in thinking the deal could have been cut backdoor.
And as for NSSF, I sympathise with the guys there. Look at the MD, he might have all the Accounting diplomas and degrees one can have but poor Chandi is just 36 years. This is a boy. He might have been a senior partner at Price Waterhouse but for crying out loud, he is a boy—yet to cut his teeth.
Ok, picture Chandi sitting in his chair in his office, then guess who walks in? Minister Amama Mbabazi. Chandi springs from his chair, offers his hand, which Mbabazi shakes patronizingly. The minister then breaks the ice—tells the young man about the Temangalo land and how NSSF can carry out a profitable venture there.
All the young man has to do is call a board meeting and market the deal. Of course the above scenario is a creation of mind, but look, you can’t downplay the influence of politics here.
In 2001, Tezira Jamwa, mother to Chandi Jamwa lost her Tororo Parliamentary Seat which she had occupied since the CA days. The victor against her was Dorothy Hyuha, currently Minister without Portfolio. With her political future dwindling, the NRM resuscitated it by making her RDC. Look, why won’t a son of this lady, whose basic political survival has depended on the system, feel compelled to reward the godfathers?
Ok, back to those who think the bathwater should not be spilled with the baby. People like Mwenda think that the project, albeit dogged by procedural problems, should go ahead, considering how badly workers need houses. It is for this reason that he has used unflattering terms to describe the IGG, who has come out to block the venture.
In the late 1990s, the National Housing and Construction Company constructed low-cost houses in Mpumudde Estates in Jinja. But besides it, was another cheaper estate of middle-class citizens. These citizens saw in this new estate the opportunity to upgrade their status. They formed an association and began lobbying the Corporation over rates of purchase.
As the negotiations hit high gear, a certain senior lady politician from Busoga stormed the scene. She went on and offered a higher price for the estates, locking out the mass of workers. She then went on to even ask for much higher rates than what the Housing Corporation was asking for.
That is the kind of lie NSSF apologists want us to swallow. A housing estate will be built and do not get surprised to see Mbabazi buying it off, only to become an even tenacious landlord.
Workers, let’s not land for the bait. If NSSF feels like building us houses from our deposits, let us enter an agreement with them. Let us negotiate before the project is undertaken using the strength of our deposits. Let us own the houses before they are built. Short of that, the circles will continue. The wolves shall continue devouring us, and like Boxer in Animal Farm, we shall work harder!!!
Remember, in opposing this daylight robbery, we stand to lose nothing but our chains!!

change--time to move on

2008-08-11T15:28:00.000+03:00

If a week ago someone had told me I would be at this current address, I would have called them jokers. Truth is I had not fathomed that within less than a week, I would be at the Monitor Publications and not The New Vision. But well…
We all have a sense of fear for change. When The Monitor came beckoning, I feared to move. I thought about the many friends (social and professional) I had made in The New Vision, I thought about my bosses (whom I was getting on very well with) and all those many other things.
Even the notion of moving The New Vision’s main competitor kind of sucked. You know, The New Vision gave me a chance to learn. Fresh from school, with no journalistic skills, they took me on and introduced me to the murky waters of sub editing. For this, I am eternally grateful.
But again change is a factor of life. As human beings, I believe it is prudent we should accept we can not be in the same place for ever. Of course I left the New Vision because at some point I felt I had taken on all the challenges there were in my position.
The New Vision also had failed to appreciate that the value of Don two years ago could not be the same value today. I had surely grown. I had become more efficient, I was delivering on time and I just thought to rate me the same way I was two years ago was not fair.
Of course the straw was broken when the HR officer in language not very civil rebuffed me when I made inquiries about my promotion. I felt then, it was time to move on.
My memories of the New Vision are fond. The friends I made there will remain dear and close.
But in Monitor I begin a new trek. A new journey. But I am optimistic. I am hopeful. I will do my best to hit my targets…
The journey has only begun.

for Rita--so short yet so sweet

2008-08-03T16:57:00.002+03:00

What does one do, when someone comes into their lives, brightens it and suddenly disappears? Linger on the memories so sweet? Sulk for the future not met? Or write a verse to celebrate the great moments? I opt for the last

Rita
Like a comet you came
Into this whirlwind of a life
Brought a smile where a frown was the norm
Reminded me of youth gone past

Rita
Where cold ash lay, you rekindled the fire
What had become grunge, you scrubbed to shine
Like diesel oil, you kicked a lifeless car into life

Rita
But time beckons
Nature speaks
Fate dictates
Go you have

And like Desdemona unto Othello,
I beg—for the next, offer life too
Tell the tale the way you told

Patronage begets fear--kills talent

2008-08-03T16:38:00.002+03:00

Today, over lunch, I was discussing with friends, who have had the chance of being close to President Museveni on how he has used fear to subdue his subordinates, especially his ministers. One friend joked; how in the middle of a press address, the President summoned his local government minister to explain something to do with markets and the usually loud-mouthed minister stood up in apparent fright, addressed the President as “Sir” before mumbling incoherencies. The President waved him down and proceeded on other matters. This minister is not ignorant, he is knowledgeable. It is just that he was scared of the President!! And many of them are.
We therefore delved into the cause of this. Why do people we think are so powerful like ministers suddenly crumble in the face of their superior? Should respect be the same as fear? It is a common scene to see women ministers kneel to greet the President, including one who is about to hit the 70-year-mark!!
I reasoned and still insist that when people are given positions through patronage and not merit, they feel they owe their everything to the “giver”. It becomes a norm, therefore, to accord the giver a demi-god status. It explains why these 70-year-olds are willing to genuflect and bow before their master—in their place would be more capable, competent persons. But knowing that they survive on patronage, they have to stoop as low as they can---if only it will ensure a steady flow of bread and milk to their tables.
But what happened to talent and merit? In Africa, it is the norm that jobs are dished out on friends, relatives and in-laws basis. This same afternoon, I called a friend of mine who runs her father’s construction firm. I greeted her in Swahili (teasingly) and she told me she didn’t know. The conversation went thus.
Don: But B****, you work in a construction firm. That is the common language spoken by porters. How can you not know it?
B: For us we use Lukiiga on our sites. We don’t employ non-Bakiga.
And she went on to tell me how they had a project in Karamoja and still the porters they took there were Rukiiga-speaking. Imagine porters in Karamoja speaking Rukiiga.
But that is that. Society has become about whom you know, not what you know. It is about technical know-who, no more technical know-how.
But should we let things remain this way?

govts of national unity are bad for democracy

2008-07-28T08:19:00.002+03:00

It is now clear that the warring political factions in Zimbabwe will in the coming weeks form a government of national unity, comprising members of Robert Mugabe’s ZANU/PF party and the opposition Morgan Tsvangirai’s MDC party.
To common Zimbabweans, whom peace and order had become elusive in the past months, this should come as a relief. They expect the country to become stable and probably the inclusion of the West’s blue-eyed boy Tsvangirai into the government will help resuscitate their ailing economy.
On the surface, this looks a juicy deal; but deep down it is a total travesty to justice and democracy. The purpose of holding elections is to enable voters pick a candidate they consider favourite. The criteria of choice may differ from aspects like tribalism, ability to solve economic problems or even physical appearance; but the rationale is that the most popular candidate at the end of the day should be declared victor.
But looking at this new fashion of coalition governments, it is obvious that Africa is slowly murdering the purpose of elections.
In Kenya, which also has a government of national unity, it was common knowledge that President Kibaki had been given a bloody nose by Raila Odinga’s ODM. Unwilling to hand over total power and with blood being shed, Kibaki agreed to ‘share’ power. Of course the biggest beneficiary here was the loser in the elections.
The same scenario replays in Zimbabwe. Defeated on March 29, Mugabe made it very difficult for his opponent to freely campaign in the run-off. With his thugs, he terrorized opposition supporters until Tsvangirai threw in the towel.
Knowing how illegitimate his government is, Mugabe is now willing to ‘share’ power. Probably cede some cabinet posts to the opposition and create a semblance of normalcy.
The truth is that the biggest loser in these arrangements is democracy. We should not conduct elections where people are sure they will rig blatantly and thereafter give a few concessions to their opponents and all seems well.
Of course the opposition can be blamed over this. One wonders why they would choose to share power with people they have defeated in elections, but probably their decision is understandable.
They are like the genuine mother of the baby in the Biblical story of King Solomon, who unwilling to see her baby chopped to be shared with another woman, offers to give up on her claim, just to make sure that the toddler lives.
But the bottom line is that many leaders, unwilling to leave power, are going to use this new phenomenon as a soft landing. They will rig opponents out of victory and offer the olive branch to in form of a government of national unity.
Curiously, it is the West fronting this mode of election dispute resolution in Africa. It should be rejected totally. We either have elections where the winner is declared fairly or we just forget about polls. There should be no middle line between democracy and totalitarianism.

For You Mummy; Eternally indebted to u

2008-07-17T19:58:00.002+03:00

At times I wonder how I emerged top of my poetry class at university. True, I was able to cram facts on the classical poets, mastered the epic of Beowulf, memorized the tales of Canterbury and off the fingers reeled facts on the Romantic poets---but surely, how could I, who even never wrote a single personal poem, emerge top of that class?
My conscience feeling betrayed, I today have decided to write a poem here (and you guessed right), it is dedicated to my mother, Felly. She turns 60 this December 12th and friends—guide me, what can I do to celebrate the life of such an inspirational woman?

Mummy; eternal grateful I am
Like the cow that watches over the newly-born calf
You guarded me jealously at birth,
Like the kangaroo that carries its young in a bag
You made sure I was tended to in childhood
Mummy—you went naked to see me clothed
On a hungry stomach you stood, so that I could feed
At five, you dragged me to watch my first stage play
I followed not, but you insisted I pay attention,
How I quacked when the boy passed near me, heading to the slaughter
Little did I know that he was the Ikemefuna I would later fall in love with,
Little did I know that I would grow to worship Achebe.

Mummy—you shaped my literary skills
Gave me abridged versions of Tom Sawyer
Warned me against taking on Huckleberry Finn’s manners
Told me to shun Okonkwo’s and Othello’s temper
And close to my mum I should be like Paul Morel.

Mummy—you have watched me grow
Like the tendril in the rainy season
From the mucus-dripping toddler
To the ranting blogger

I stood by and watched you teach
Little did I know that the quest would drive me
In front of hungry souls
And explain Jane Eyre to them
Like you mummy, I became a teacher.

No amount of praise here
Equals the sacrifice made

But rest assured—you are dearest to me mummy!
Happy 60th birthday mummy!!

for Mugabe's praise singers

2008-07-16T20:25:00.001+03:00

To understand this piece in entirety, one must have read another blog www.makutanoafrica.blogspot.com. It is a blog i contribute to with a couple of other Africans across the continent. Two bloggers there (Kay, a South African and Paul, a Kenyan), think Mugabe is a victim of witch hunt by the western media--. I choose to respond to them thus:

I have read your pieces Paul and Kay on how you believe Mugabe is a victim of harsh western press and unnecessary meddling of affairs by western powers. I have seen the passion with which you have come in defence of this despot. But again rules of common sense dictate that everyone should have a say; however thwarted that view may be.
So, do you in all wisdom believe that about a third of Zimbabweans have fled their country because the western press paints Mugabe as a villain?
Do you imagine that the pictures of people whipped and wounded in Harare and other suburbs are just a creative work of videographers and western photo journalists (who interestingly are banned from Zim)?
Do, you, Paul and Kay think that over 150,000% inflation is a mere joke perpetrated by some Ivy League economist at the World Bank headquarters and therefore not true of what is happening in Zimbabwe?
Are you, trumpeters of Mugabe, convinced that the bread queues and endless fuel lines we see relayed from Zimbabwe are fictitious?
Tell me, you who sing Mugabe’s praises--- was it fair to conduct an election where your major opponent at any slight occasion was detained by the Police and never allowed to address rallies. Have you ever fought a chained opponent? How difficult was that victory?
But again, I blame you not. Many of us are still caught in the wave of defending Africa, however grim things are. That is the only way we can prove our ‘patriotism’.
Call me unpatriotic but I will not back a leader who borders on dementia. Call me a traitor but I will not sing praises for a man, who led a country to prosperity only to hasten its downfall.
Label me a bootlicker of the west—but if they are the masters we have to worship in order to have stable economies, fuel and bread in proper supply, then so be it.
Guys, lets face up the reality. Mugabe is a mess. He can cling to all straws, point fingers elsewhere, but truth be told, he bungled in his economic policies. He screwed up. The people rejected him but the military keeps him around.
The west can be blamed for exaggerating, but reality is Zimbabwe ha gone to the dogs.
My only regret is why the ICC did not issue those indictments for him, although Bashir does deserve them too—just like many other African leaders.

Religion, rebellion, dog fate of the banished

2008-07-07T15:01:00.002+03:00

APIRE, a failed student-turned-rebel, returns from his bush exploits to find his wife in the bed of a parish priest, the Rev. Fr. Dila. He executes both of them and hands himself over to the Police.
This is the thematic gist of Fate of the Banished - rebellion, religion and despair. Apire, his wife and Fr. Dila are the central characters upon whom this story, told in pure African English, rotates. Like in Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, you cannot fail to distinguish the African overtones, even if the story is told in English.
Although Ocwinyo says at the beginning of the book that events in the story have no connection with true historical occurrences, through deduction and nomenclature, we can authoritatively state that the book is set in Teso.
The reference to cattle raids and a rebellion, which Teso once experienced, all back up this assertion. The author critically analyses the question of religion, especially the tenets of the Catholic Church like celibacy, wondering whether they are still relevant.
Through a lengthy critique (ironically authored by Fr. Dila), questions are raised about modes of worship, the nature of sermons and their relevance in the African context. The book may not be as damning on the Catholic Church as Mongo Beti’s The Poor Christ of Bomba or Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code, but it also raises critical questions that the Church may need to think about. The novel’s plot is uniquely backward-looking. It opens with the scene of the murder of the priest and the adulterous wife, but only at the end of the book, are we able to know why this gruesome act has happened. Ocwinyo does this with great narrative skill and suspense that you cannot help but keep turning the pages.
Other notable narrative skills include episodic incidents, dialogue, situational and dramatic irony, characterisation and allusions, especially biblical.
Through Apire, Ocwinyo tackles the plight of many people who, because of fate, end up where they should not. His father is murdered as the family watches. His mother becomes a celebrated drunkard. Apire drops out of school after picking a fight with a teacher and when he gets a job as a driver, he cannot keep it because the boss’ wife, like was the case with the Biblical Joseph, wants to have sex with him.
The way events turn out, it looks like Apire was banished from the word go. That explains the relevance and pregnancy of the title.
The story Ocwinyo tells is not entirely new, but we must credit him for how he tells it. And that could explain why our National Curriculum Development Centre, which is known to resent local authors, could have relented and put the book on the A’ Level syllabus. It is crucial that schools opt for it. If not for the closer-to-home nature of the story, then at least to support one of our own.

Africa needs more Mwanawasas

2008-07-03T15:48:00.004+03:00

Ok, look, the news just trickled in that Zambian president Levy Mwanawasa had died in a Paris hospital. And as I was punching away this eulogy, more news trickled in that actually, he was not dead but “steadily” recovering after being treated for hypertension.
So, I am at a loss, but either way, I have chosen to proceed with this piece. A prosaic ode to a man I think this continent should not afford to lose now---not with the crisis that is Zimbabwe eating away at the southern end of this continent.
And it is with justifiable reason that I demand the Lord just waits a little bit longer before turning him into past tense.
I never praise politicians. Infact if you look at this blog critically, politicians are the fodder upon which my cannon survives. I tear them.
But look, Mwanawasa is not your typical African leader—he is unique and in a nice way.
In 1990, when it was clear Zambia had had enough of the old man Kenneth Kaunda, it was a foregone conclusion that the opposition Movement for Multi-party Democracy (MMD) was coursing its way to victory.
All they needed was a stable anchorman and many wanted Mwanawasa to hold the mantle. Unprecedented in Africa, he turned down the offer. Guess what? He admitted that he was “young and inexperienced” to be president!!
Isn’t this a joker? Do I need remind you that Samuel Doe of Liberia assumed leadership at barely 25 years, what of our Kabila Junior in the Congo after his father’s assassination? His nose was still dripping with mucus when he began leading his people.
Even Jakaya Kikwete in Tanzania had to be restricted for about 5 years (and detained as foreign affairs minister) so that he could get enough experience. Otherwise, he was willing to take on Mkapa the first time, and trust me, he would have floored him.
So, here is a politician, who the prospect of being president is dangled before him, but has the balls to admit that he just can’t take the job yet. Look around Africa now, sure, how many presidents do we see, who assumed the throne too early? Gamblers on the job. I bet 95% of them still need induction that is if they qualify for it anyway.
But what makes Mwanawasa stand out, is his transparent approach to issues. When Chiluba made attempts to amend the constitution to allow him rule for life and the whole of Zambia was up in arms against him, he handpicked Mwanawasa in 2001 to succeed him. Look, in 1994, while serving as Chiluba’s vice-president, Mwanawasa threw in the towel. He accused the government of excessive corruption and called it a day.
Show me one African politician who quits because the system is corrupt and I will prove to you that we are on another planet, not earth. My guess actually is that droves would leave a government even bring it down, if it became accountable. African politicians thrive in corruption!!
So, Mwanawasa quits but Chiluba thinks he can use him as a pawn. He helps him get elected (albeit questionably) and LO! The immunity Chiluba had hoped for froze. Mwanawasa took the lead in opening Chiluba’s closet. You see, the short unionist (Chiluba) had caught the capitalist bug and literally looted his country. So, a horde of graft charges were opened against him—and his “pauper” told him to face the music.
Others may say Mwanawasa betrayed Chiluba, but I insist that leaders should be held accountable for their actions while in power. To loot, plunder, kill and maim and think you will make off because you have a pauper successor should be no security.
And now, there is this boil called Robert Mugabe. The madman of the Rhodesia. A liberator, whose people now need to be liberated from. he has run down the economy, exiled a third of his people, conducted a one-man election and still has the guts to call himself a liberator.
You see, this madman has scared everyone in Southern Africa from condemning him. The “mighty” Mbeki has chickened out. Others are merely producing muffled sounds, but Mwanawasa, who chairs SADC, has told Mugabe to his face that he disgraces this continent.
No wonder Mugabe must have been the happiest, when just after landing in Egypt for the AU summit, Mwanawasa was taken ill—Mwanawasa, who was expected to stand up in the club of looters (called presidents) and tell Mugabe to style up!!! Why did I hear someone say that Mugabe’s sangoma could have been behind Mwanawasa’s illness?
The bottom line to me though is that Africa needs more Mwanawasas---stand up and be counted!!

wild, weird west

2008-06-26T11:39:00.002+03:00

Newlyweds Sharon Papo (L) and Amber Weiss (R) stand with Patti and David Weiss outside San Francisco City Hall after exchanging wedding vows on the first full day of legal same-sex marriages in California June 17, 2008. Gay marriage supporters see the move by the most populous U.S. state to allow same-sex weddings as an historic move long overdue, while opponents brand it a moral tragedy. REUTERS/Erin Siegal (UNITED STATES)

Guys, we all knew that mankind would lose his bearings. But did we expect it this early? How can those parents be happy "for their daughter and her wife"? Honestly, when Francis Imbuga noted in "Betrayal in the City" that when the madness of a nation afflicts an individual, perhaps it is not right to say the person is mad, he was right. This is madness of an entire nation!!!

Tsvangirai should not have quit

2008-06-23T11:38:00.003+03:00

Just hours after debating with my lovely friend Khadijja whether Morgan Tsvangirai, the Zimbabwean opposition leader of the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) would pull out of the presidential run-off, the bolt hit us. I got home only to turn on the telly and see him make the decision. He could not continue exposing his supporters to “lethal violence” perpetuated by Robert Mugabe’s thugs.
In my earlier talk with Khadijja, I had said whereas Tsvangirai had all the justification to pull out, it was my utmost hope that he would not. Now he has and from the word go---I want to show that this could be the biggest miscalculation of Tsvangirai’s political career.
First, let us get this straight. The political terrain in Africa has never been smooth. You do not expect a level playing field if you are an opposition candidate in Africa. Before the 2006 elections in Uganda, the main opposition leader, Kizza Besigye, was arrested on trumped up charges of rape. So, as incumbent President Museveni was going about campaigning freely, his opponent was shackled, making occasional appearances in court. Besigye’s wife, Winnie, took to parading their young son, Anselm at what should have been Besigye rallies. Only when the President had covered enough ground was Besigye released—a few weeks to the poll.
In Rwanda, Vice-President Kagame, who had set up a pseudo-democracy by letting Pasteur Bizimungu run the country for a while, shed off his coat and got Bizimungu arrested. He claimed the mantle and as we know today, Rwanda is a Police state. Dissent is harshly treated. I even believe that Mbeki was up to some games when he (albeit indirectly) orchestrated Zuma’s rape trail. In Egypt, the Muslim Brotherhood has had it rough as Mubarak plots to have his son take over. The list, in brief, is endless.
It should therefore have dawned on Tsvangirai, the day he took to politics that the faint-hearted do not thrive in this field. Success in politics does not come on a silver platter. You sweat for it, at times die for it. Look at Kenya; it took the deaths of close to 300 people before Kibaki could accept to share power with Raila Odinga—even when it was clear even to the blind that Kibaki had rigged. And we know that revolutions elsewhere have claimed lives in thousands and millions. So, Tsvangirai says 70 supporters have been killed in the run up to the elections and he calls it quits? That is a joke!!
And what did Tsvangirai think he would achieve by walking away from the polls? International condemnation that would yield nothing? For the past decade Britain and the US have taken to condemning Mugabe---imposing sanctions etc. But the megalomaniac has not moved even an inch. The US says it is going to raise the issue with the UN Security Council. But of what effect will that be? We know that the UN has provisions that allow for forceful intervention. But after the debacle in Somalia in 1994, I don’t think the US is ready to risk their marines on African soil. And with the Iraq invasion going haywire, a possible change in Washington in November, I don’t think that line (forceful removal) will work.
The regional bloc SADC had also proved to be a paper tiger. Apart from Levy Mwanawasa, the other presidents in the region are still revering their “liberator”. Mbeki, the regional mediator, is known to be the biggest coward in the region. He chooses to see things from a different perspective. He mooted the idea of a government of national unity, which Mugabe threw back to his face. Look at the nonsense he told Reuters after hearing of Tsvangirai’s decision:
"From our point of view it is still necessary that the political leadership of Zimbabwe should get together and find a solution to the challenges that face Zimbabwe."

So, it all comes back to one thing. Tsvangirai and Zimbabweans have the duty to uproot the cancer that is Mugabe. This will not be achieved by cowardice. The very reason Mugabe has unleashed thugs on people is because he is scared of defeat. His rumbles that only God can get him off the throne are an empty echo of a coward. The MDC should not have relented at this point. You do not snatch defeat from the jaws of victory just like that. The first round of voting was held in similar conditions but Tsvangirai came up on top. He has underestimated the will of Zimbabweans to change events. I was convinced that come Election Day, Mugabe was going to get a thrashing of his life. But see what Tsvangirai does—walks straight into the bastard’s net. Mugabe can now have more seven years of madness!!! And Zimbabwe will look on as they slope further into the doldrums.

Obama; we celebrate, but...

2008-06-05T19:47:00.002+03:00

I am still reeling from the excitement of Barack Obama clinching the Democratic Party nomination at the beginning of this week. I am one guy, who every morning, goes through all the wires to get the latest on Obama. I have been doing that since November last year. I have subscribed to the Obama website http://www.barackobama.com/ and I am expectantly awaiting an autographed T-shirt of the man from the US (Solomon, get done with this quickly—I am anxious).
You, therefore, must understand my joy when finally he reached the delegate threshold to claim the victory against the unrelenting Hillary Clinton.
So, what is in it for me, that (like millions others) I should be preoccupied or as Khadijja would say, be obsessed with this Kenyan-American? This question partially offers the answer.
Obama is a guy from next door. As a Ugandan, I identify Kenya as a next-door neighbour. For other Africans, it is a question of someone from the same continent rising to the highest office on this planet. I am sure people elsewhere have found a way of associating with this enigma of a politician. Indonesians remember him as a guy who attended catholic school there in his younger days. Muslims do not believe that he has discarded his Hussein name, etc. A friend of mine has christened him the “world president”.
I think if that position existed (world president), one person we can be sure now, who would have taken it, is Obama. I am assuming Africans will not rig.
Ok, back to Obama. If he floors McCain in November, trust me, more than half the world will erupt with joy. I don’t know whether he knows what he’s shouldering. In fact Americans should do us a favour and vote him. if not for his abilities, than at least to save us of the deaths that will come as a result of shock, stress, high-blood pressure, in case Obama loses.
Look, this is serious. I have just finished reading Obama’s “Audacity of Hope”. But whenever I would pass with that book in the market, bar, taxi, office, everyone would immediately recognise the guy—and say something, even if factually wrong. That is the fascination. So, don’t say I am kidding when I say people will die, if he loses.
As an African, let me make this clear. Obama’s presidency will not change much about American policy on this continent. It will continue aiding rogue regimes, as long as they serve their interests and go for those that mean nothing to them.
The President George Bush AIDS Relief plan started in 2004 will be maintained, probably Congress will add a few dollars to it, but the scourge will continue to haunt this continent.
In his first year in power Obama will make a tour of Africa; probably five-nation tour, including his homeland Kenya. The madness on the continent will hit fever-pitch as millions throng to see “their son”. He will obviously condemn corruption and call for greater accountability but that will be all.
In brief, I am saying, as we run amok over this historical milestone, let us not set our hopes too high. Let us not think the VISA entry conditions in the US will be softened. Let us not imagine that Africa will become America.
No. we just have to get back to our work. Plunge in even harder. Break a sweat and only be inspired that if Obama could come from that far, break all the myths and barriers, than probably we too, may one day, get there.

South African madness--Africa needs an apology

2008-05-28T09:55:00.002+03:00

Ladies and gentlemen, the most despicable yet unsurprising thing has happened. Native South Africans have turned their guns on African immigrants in their country. Last week, up to 50 people were murdered by these marauding mobs, compelling Ndugu Mbeki to send the army onto the streets.
What do you call this irony? Consider that not less than two decades ago, Most of Africa was concerned about the suppression of the black community under the apartheid system, offering sanctuary to dissident South Africans and even funding the anti-apartheid struggle.
African countries in the UN compelled the body to impose sanctions, even when it was clear that countries like Britain were not warming to the idea. (Thatcher was doing arms business with the apartheid regime).
In Uganda, the struggle against apartheid, became so engaging that we even selected books on anti-apartheid like Ale La Guma’s “In the Fog of the Seasons’ End” to run on our syllabus. Do you guys remember that we also read “A Wreath for Udomo” and for more sophiscated people like Alex Balimwikungu, “Sizwe Bansi is Dead”?
So, why does a country that owes it current freedom and economic prosperity get the right to clobber and murder people who helped it get there? Of course one may argue that what we saw was not State-sanctioned violence. But surely, this is a point that should not be lost even to the densest of a South African.
And I was right on economic prosperity. The majority workers in South African mines were immigrants. And as we all know it is these mines that have put South Africa to the economic threshold it is on today.
The least South Africans can do is apologise to the rest of Africa and promise what we saw will not happen again.
I sought out the views of my fourth generation South African friend, Khadija Mohamed on this and below was her reply. Read the thoughts of a South African on this. And know that I value your replies…so please, post comments.

Regarding the xenophobic crisis: Firstly, it shouldn’t be seen as a sudden uprising but rather as a gradual amalgamation of other issues facing the country, poverty, crime and unemployment. I’ll share with you comments from a columnist of the local Times daily: ”...as South Africans, we have an attitude of entitlement. We think that the world owes us something.... directly or indirectly, (we) think apartheid is something to hold on to so that we can be viewed as victims and everything should be smooth sailing for us.Here we are 14 years since the beginning of democracy in South Africa and we are still holding onto 1976.”

It sounds harsh, but I can back much of what she is saying through my own experiences.

In the same edition of the paper, a report on Jacob Zuma’s visit to one the xenophobic hotspots (as it's now called): “... the atmosphere became tense when someone interrupted Zuma’s opening remarks to ask why the meeting was being held in a predominantly Indian, upmarket suburb....

"Zuma and others who went into exile stayed in the camps in (Zimbabwe and Mozambique), they were not all over the place like here," a resident said.

The man went on to tell Zuma that the reason Mozambicans were targeted was 'because bosses put them in charge over us at work. This is because every time the white man says 'Do this,' the Shangaan (Mozambican) says. 'Yes, baas (boss)'."

back from the abyss--straight to Hillobama drama

2008-05-27T14:05:00.004+03:00

I must apologise to all thee---fans of this blog. I last posted sometime in January, but truth be told, my system just broke down. Blogspot was just not accessible on my PC and senior blogger E Baz advised me to relocate to wordpress, but i was reluctant, knowing how many of you were already hooked here. Anyway, somehow i have managed to access it.

And let us blow it away with the American presidential elections or is it still party primaries (courtesy of the pant suit wearing Hillary---she itches like a jigger i must say. Why can't she just go away??)

Anyway, below is an opinion i came across this morning written by Associated Press staffer Calvin Woodward on the end of the Clinton era---or is it? My own rumbles on the topic will be coming soon. Indulge

THE CLINTON ERA COMING TO AN END
By CALVIN WOODWARD, Associated Press Writer

WASHINGTON – There’s been a Clinton running for the White House or living in it for approximately forever. Bill, it could be said, was born to run. Running became Hillary's destiny, too.
One quarter of Americans have never known life without a Clinton trying for or having the presidency. Millions have gone from diapers to diplomas in the time of the Clintons.
When Hillary Rodham Clinton finally exits the 2008 Democratic presidential race, she will end a decades-long, power-couple streak of unique political energy, savvy ideas, colossal policy flops and raw ambition dressed in pants suits and briefs, not boxers.
“Every day is an adventure," Bill said cheerfully at the start of it all. And how.
By now, the Clintons have been assigned mystical qualities of perseverance. The notion that the adventure is over is almost beyond comprehension.
“I never quit,” she says. "I never give up."
Even in defeat, Hillary Clinton has made history as the first woman favored for a major party presidential nomination — the first with a real shot at the presidency.
She’s gotten more than 17 million votes in her own right this year, enticingly close to the number won by Barack Obama, who is making history, too, because he's black.
With her cachet, not to mention her job in the Senate, Clinton won't drift far from the nation's consciousness. (Nor is Bill likely to get out of the country's face.)
"Whatever else you might say about them, they have contributed to substantive dialogue and policy,” says Mary Matalin, a Clinton-era Republican strategist. “Hats off to them substantively.
“They’re really kind of giants in this world.”
In the 2012 and 2016 presidential campaign years, Hillary Clinton, now 60, will still be younger than the Republican candidate, John McCain, is now. Meantime, she could become a powerhouse senator in the manner of the stricken Edward M. Kennedy. Or a Supreme Court justice. Or Obama’s running mate.
Soon, though, there will be no Clinton running for president or about to. Imagine that.
___
Clinton I:
Dial back to Bill Clinton's two terms and a few big achievements and various smaller ones stand out: unsurpassed economic growth, a balanced budget, welfare reform, free trade, a Middle East peace agreement, gun control, more money for police on the street, the first Cabinet without white men in the majority.
Here was a man who could wear people out talking about the fine points of policy while owning up to his choice of underwear.
Another legacy was the transcendent His and Hers failure: universal health care. The complex, secretively drawn plan to achieve that goal was sent to and killed by a Democratic Congress, no less.
And there were the scandals, His and Hers.
They are known, in brief, as: Monica Lewinsky, Paula Jones, Gennifer Flowers, Whitewater, the White House travel office firings, White House coffees and Lincoln bedroom stays for donors, FBI background files on Republicans, missing documents and the presidential pardon of a fugitive friend.
The episodes involving women were his. Most of the others were theirs or hers.
___
Scene from a 'funeral':
In January 2001, shortly before George W. Bush was sworn in, some of the Clintons' fiercest critics from the right gathered in a Washington hotel to feast on filet mignon, salmon and sour grapes.
"It's our way of celebrating the fumigation of Washington," said L. Brent Bozell III, host of the "funeral" for the Clinton years.
"I've never seen a back I've found more attractive," said Robert Bork, the scuttled Supreme Court nominee, meaning Bill Clinton's back when he left town.
Bozell amended the Lord's Prayer to say of Mrs. Clinton: "Her socialist agenda got runneth over." And the Rev. Jerry Falwell gave the invocation, thanking God "a new wind is blowing."
They seemed to be forgetting someone.
Hillary Clinton came blowing into the Senate chamber, the newly minted junior senator from New York.
___
Clinton II:
She was diligent from the start, attentive to constituent needs and a hard worker on the Armed Services Committee. She promised to be "pretty New York-centric," and was.
But everything she did was colored by the expectation of a presidential run.
The most polarizing woman in politics turned into a workhorse and formed surprising alliances with Republicans.
She edged toward the center and attempted to accomplish in little pieces what she could not pull off as a whole in her years as first lady.
Clinton joined Republican Sen. Lindsey Graham of South Carolina, an architect of her husband's impeachment, in a law improving health coverage for members of the National Reserve and Guard serving in Iraq.
She pushed for tighter regulation of prescription drugs for children and help for recovery workers whose health was impaired by laboring at the site of the 2001 World Trade Center terrorist attack.
And she voted to authorize the Iraq invasion, which she would never live down after she cruised to re-election in 2006.
No monumental law bears her name.
But in the campaign, universal health care returned to her agenda. This time, she said, she would learn from her experience and do it right — more openly and less intrusively on parts of the health care system that work.
Clinton was the one to beat out of the gate. Everyone knew her, for one thing.
"Ninety-nine percent of the country feels they have a relationship with her," said Mike McCurry, former press secretary to President Clinton.
And there was Bill, still in everyone's face. He stumped for his wife as if possessed. Hillary Clinton flashed him that bright smile on stage through thick and thin.
For some voters, that was one Clinton — or two — too many.
"We've had enough of the Clintons," said Haydon Grubbs, 77, of Shalimar, Fla. "New direction, right?"
Grubbs, a Republican who voted in the past for the "He Clinton," backed Obama this time.
The "She Clinton" found her own voice.
But, like her husband, she seemed the strongest when her back was against the wall.
As the odds of beating Obama sank into the nearly impossible, she campaigned as if there were some previously undiscovered "third way" to win, just as Bill Clinton had sought a third way to govern between the old politics of left and right.
On Friday, she cited the 1968 Democratic primaries as a reason why she should stay in the race. She mentioned the assassination of Robert Kennedy in June of that year, then apologized for bringing it up.
___
Together, Bill and Hillary Clinton have pulled it out of the fire over and over, going back to 1976, when he bounced back from losing a congressional race two years earlier. He won election as Arkansas attorney general.
Two years after that, at 32, he became the nation's youngest governor.
Then, defeat in 1980 when he sought a second term. It would be his final election loss, but hardly the last dip in the Clintons' seemingly endless cycle of failure and renewal.
By the mid-1980s, when he was back in office in Little Rock, Clinton's name was floating as a Democratic presidential prospect.
He took a pass in 1988. But that year marked one benchmark in the rollout of the Clinton era.
He delivered a speech at the Democratic convention laying out a new orthodoxy that he would bring to the presidential race himself four years later, his activist wife at his side.
The Clintons' national conversation had begun.
The speech went on for so long that some people wondered if it would ever end.
In a way, it never did. Not until now.

So, Kenya finally is a failed state?

2008-01-29T14:13:00.000+03:00

The heading sounds funny, doesn't it; a declarative question. Yeah, am wondering whether to agree that Kenya is a failed state or give it the benefit of doubt.

Kenya has been in the news for now close to a month since elections were conducted. And not just in the regional papers but even the global media. Not because Kenya conducted a great election, but because the election marked the start to an end of a state called Kenya.

Ok, what are the indicators? Finance minister Kimunya has been trying to put on a brave face that the economy would still survive the anarchy. But yesterday, he threw in the towel. He admitted that the clashes, which now have claimed over 1,000 people is sending Kenya down the recession road. He has admitted that tourism will take ages to rebuild.

As the massacres continue, especially in Naivasha and Nakuru, the police can only look on. Meaning they are either defeated, or conspiring to let Kikuyus kill Luos. I know that they are overstretched. But what do we call a state, which can not police itself?

The biggest component of a failed state is not the dead or even the economy. It is fear. The moment a country slides into a situation where people are not sure of their neighbours, where you must walk while watching your back, where you talk in whispers, for fear of being heard, then all freedoms are gone.

And believe me, Kenya has gotten there. I sent a mail to my friend (a journalist in one of the biggest media houses asking whether, the division bug had not bitten even they the 'elite' too. I asked her if in office, they are not segregating among themselves, and here is what she told me;

"Don, we do not want to believe it, but to be frank the bug has bitten us too. A Kikuyu friend of mine has suddenly stopped talking to me. When i greet him, he offers muffed responses. We hear some of our bosses from a certain tribe met to discuss how to guard their interests. We are now in a state of confuion and fear. Am not sure even sending you this mail is safe."

Fear, to me is the definition of a dead state. A people who live in fear of one another are as good as those living in cages. Kenya is a failed state.

the job i don't envy

2008-01-17T18:24:00.000+03:00

As a child, I dreamt about being a journalist. I loved the voice of Robin White on the BBC African Service, though many times then; I did not fathom what exactly he was saying. Then as my love for the profession grew, I learnt of people called spokesmen. I was impressed when some time in the mid 90s, I watched a NATO spokesman, during the siege on Slobodan Milosevic of Yugoslavia, address a press conference and answered questions from journalists in five different international languages!!
I immediately knew where my heart wanted to go—spokesmanship. I did not matter really what I should be speaking for, but all I wanted was to be a spokesman.
Then came the American invasion on Iraq in 2003 and the thrust into international spotlight of a man, we later termed Comical Ali. Mohammed Saeed al-Sahaf was the Iraq information minister when the Americans descended over his country.
He, overnight, became a star when through comical interviews; he rubbished the attacking forces, even when it was clear that Baghdad was falling to the occupational force.
“There is no presence of American infidels in the city of Baghdad,” he declared to journalists on the roof of the Palestine Hotel as gunfire echoed across the city and tanks fired from the banks of the Tigris just a few hundred yards away.
As the audience of bemused reporters pointed out the fierce firefight across the river, he continued: “There is no presence of the American columns in the city of Baghdad at all. We besieged them and we killed most of them.”
“Today, the tide has turned,” he continued confidently. “We are destroying them.”
And after an American tank shell hit the hotel, killing two cameramen, he moved to reassure the world’s press corps. “We are not afraid,” he proclaimed, adding paternally “And don’t you be afraid”.
After such theatrical performances, I knew that speaking, especially for governments can be indeed tough business. Matters are not made any better, if it is a dictatorship you are speaking for.
You may be wondering what has suddenly forced me go through these archives. But it is events in neighbouring Kenya. You see, since election results were disputed in late December, there has been one man who has tried to defend an outrightly illegitimate Kibaki government. This man goes by the names of Dr. Alfred Mutua—the official government spokesman.
Small in build and rather tall, listening to him makes one remember the tragi-comedy sub-genre of drama. I was ‘privileged’ to hear him speak to a group of Kenyan students in 2005 at Makerere University just before his government was defeated in the referendum on constitutional amendments; I concluded that theatre had missed an asset.
In a bid to impress students, he took to mimicking accents of several Kenyan tribes and obviously, you could see a man who did not recognise the gravity of events.
This week, Mutua was again in the news. After several western nations threatened to cut aid to Kenya, unless it got its political act together, Mutua said the threat was idle, adding: “You are not here to threaten us. We have gotten ourselves free from the yoke of neo-colonialism and dependency.”
Poor man, he may be right, considering that only 5% of the Kenyan budget gets foreign funding, but little does he know that the western masters still wield influence, too much of it that no amount of independence can let you cross their paths. He should ask Mugabe, Saddam and a couple of African states. He is obviously overstepping the bounds.
But what makes me see the real Comical Mutua is his remark in relation to opposition leaders, who called for mass nationwide protests.
“They are just waking up at 10 o’clock, eating eggs and sausages, giving interviews and planning how to disrupt people's lives,” Mutua told reporters.
Of course, I no longer dream of being a spokesman. Am comfortable being a blogger!!

KENYAN VIOLENCE; AFRICA'S POWDER KEG

2008-01-09T13:51:00.000+03:00

We are now taking stock. Over 1,000 people might have been killed in the violence that gripped Kenya after elections, over 300,000 people are displaced both within and without the country.

Ease seems to return but the recent announcement of a partial cabinet by Kibaki and possible failure of AU-brokered talks means Kenya is far from peaceful.

Now, away from the political sentiments that gripped all of us, depending on what side we sat, we need to do a post-mortem on what exactly took Kenya down that path. We know that few African countries conduct fool-proof elections. We know that many African regimes lack legitimacy to rule but they go ahead and rule.

So, why did Kenya get caught up in this flame? Are the Kenyans more patriotic than other Africans? Are they the most sensitive that any form of electoral malpractice would yield the bloodshed it did?

Obviously not. So, why did we see youth, living in slums hold matchetes and clubs and maul each other? why did we see young men, with good command of English (telling from the TV interviews) decide to burn and loot shops and other institutions?

The answer in my understanding is; they are a lot of young people frustrated by unfair economic state policies, who seem to be losing hope in existence. They are a group of young people, who perceive themselves as already dead, and physical death will mean nothing to them. That is why, unlike the middle class, which most likely had voted for Raila also, these depressed youth took to the streets, ready to confront security forces and if possible get killed.

In subsequent accusations between the warring parties, PNU accused ODM of masterminding a genocide and terrorism. I beg to disagree on the genocide bit but fully agree on the terrorism accusation.

What is terrorism anyway: An American general described terrorism as the war of the poor against the rich, while war is the terrorism of the rich against the poor.

What we saw on the streets of Nairobi was indeed, a war of the poor against the rich. What we saw was a statement of discontent by the 57% of Kenyans who live on less than one dollar a day. The blood-thirsty youth we saw are no hoodlums. Many of them are Form Four leavers, who have failed to gain access to colleges. Some maybe graduates, who with the unflexible economic systems that favour those who already have, are confined to the misery of slums. They try to make a living the hard way. The education system has shaped them to reject rural life and have moved to urban areas, living in constant hope of a miracle happening and things getting better. Problem is---the miracle like the parousia, seems nowhere in sight.

It is such a lot of youth who are a time-bomb. They are ready to die for someone (like Raila) who promises them heaven when they get to power. To such youth, the State has failed them. That is why they will raze houses, they know they will never build. That is why they will loot property they have only afforded in dreams. That is why they will walk in the face of bullets, knowing their lives are as good as absent.

Two things though: Is Kenya the only African state with this growing class of frustrated youth?

Secondly, is it true that we are short of resources to ensure equity in our societies?

kenya has let us down

2008-01-01T20:16:00.000+03:00

Prior to the December 27 presidential polls in Kenya, it was universally agreed that the biggest economy in East Africa was also setting the right pace in terms of democracy and general respect of freedoms. The first five years of the Kibaki presidency had literally turned round the image of a country once seen as a waste under Daniel Arap Moi, into a thriving, enviable economy in the region.
At the back of this praise was the 2002 presidential election, where Uhuru Kenyatta, the then ruling KANU party candidate, lost to Kibaki of the NARC and gracefully conceded defeat. For once in this region, we saw a ruling party hand over power to an opposition party.
For the rest of us, especially in Uganda, we could only afford to watch on with envy, considering the fact that our own 2001 presidential elections had been declared unfair by the Supreme Court and some not-so-romantic images of paramilitary squads like the Kalangala Action Plan still fresh in our memories.
Therefore, going into the 2007 presidential election, we knew our Kenyan brothers had already set the pace for us. If the 2002 election was like setting a house foundation, we expected this election to be the harnessing of the ring-beam with the hope that the 2012 polls would be roofing the democratic thatch.
How mistaken we were! We heard the opposition complain about the composition of the electoral commission during the campaigns and saw a few skirmishes claim lives. But where in Africa don’t these things happen? Even our darling Kenya could be guilty of these small failures.
But we knew they would stand the biggest test---let the people choose and respect their choice of a president. That we knew was a sure deal.
By Sunday December 31, it was clear that the maxim ‘In elections those who count the votes are strong than those who cast the votes’-had caught up with Kenya. We have looked on with horror as a country hitherto known to be peaceful descend into anarchy.
We have looked on with disgust as a country taunted as being respectful to media freedoms clamp down on media with decrees on what they should air.
We have seen a country previously respected for its thriving economy slowly witness a slump with its thriving tourist sector already threatened by scenes of violence and mayhem.
It was very disturbing to see thousands of Kenyans flee their previously peaceful country and seek refugee at shelterless border towns in Uganda. We have with worry reports that gangs are attacking innocent people in churches and burning them, reminding us of the 1994 Rwanda genocide, where even the altars turned into slaughter grounds.
And of course we can never blame the majority ordinary Kenyans. They did their part and cast their vote. The degeneration of Kenya into a Police state will by posterity and history be blamed on the political leadership. It will be placed on those, who threw away conscience and altered results in places like Molo.

The blame will squarely lie on the politicians, who put egos before State, who put self-interest before country, who roused ethnic sentiments at the cost of national unity.
The rest of us in this region will look on and say, Kenya took one step forward and moved three steps backward.

Bhutto's demise; man continues to annihilate man

2007-12-26T11:04:00.000+03:00

My friend Raymond Baguma today told me about a common joke in Pakistan; It goes; what is the difference between God and Musharraf? Answer: God does not think he is Musharraf.

Following today's events; the grissly assasination of this lady politician, Bhenazir Bhutto, am beginning to think those who coined that joke may after all have been serious.

You may also be wondering what Jesus' image is doing in this piece meant to examine how man is slowly destroying fellow man but remember this is the Christmas season--the time when those of us who profess Christianity are out there preaching love and unity. Trying to revive the principles and values that this Son of God, 2007 years ago, belaboured to drum into our skulls with his spot-on proverbs.
I mean, at this time when we are glorifying the Messiah's birth, the last thing we should be seeing on our screens is Man creating a carnage of fellow man. But again, we are talking about man here.

So, Bhutto, is shot in the head after addressing a rally, 15 other lives are claimed in the process and the suicide bomber takes his life too. Fingers may point to the Islamic fundamentalists operating in Pakistan but i want to think otherwise. Global media (of course with US orchestration) is going to tell people how Bhutto, became a victim of the Al qaeda and other hardline islamic groups but i beg to differ.

'The other view' strongly believes that the demise of this woman has everything to do with Pervez Musharaff. And i will not even attempt to sound academic here. Let's just ask a simple question; who stands to gain most with Bhutto reduced into past tense?

The Islamists have nothing great to gain. When Bhutto ascended the Premier throne at the age of 35 in 1988, she was never engaged in anti-Islam politics. Not even with the reduction in the Afghan war that the US had used Osama to suppress Russian influence.

When she was deposed in 1990 and re-elected in 1993, and again deposed in 1996, she had not taken any radical stance against the Islamists. So, the question is; why would a woman, who when in power never threatened the radical Islamic movement be such a threat to them this time round whe she is running for power?

We all know that the biggest threat to the fanatical Islamic movement in Asia at least is Musharraf. He entered an agreement with the US to use Pakistan as a bumper state against the Al qaeda. If there is anyone the islamists would love to skin alive, it would be Musharaff, not Bhutto.

So, the finger of accusation points in one direction. Musharraf was behind Bhutto's assasination. And try as i may, i find it hard to absolve America. Bhutto's return to Pakistan had posed a real threat to Musharraf's hold unto power. Her rallies were electrifying, with thousands turning up and literally worshipping her. The writing on the wall was clear for Musharraf---come January 8, he was heading for defeat at the ballot. And for the US, they were just not sure whether this woman would have the mettle enough to be duped as a US puppet the way Musharraf had been pocketed.

It was therefore a case of hanging on with the devil you know than court the angel you are not aware of. Of course there will a some tears, diplomatic statements condemning the act and it will return to business as usual. Musharaff doing the dirty work for the US. The biggest losers here are the Pakistanis, who in Bhutto, saw a hope of an 'independent' country.
Of course in my mind continues to ring this statement she made a week to her assasination:

"I put my life in danger and came here because I feel this country is in danger. People are worried. We will bring the country out of this crisis."

EDUCATION--THE GALLOWS OF AFRICAN POLITICIANS

2007-12-19T15:46:00.000+03:00

At the bottom of this blogspot, there is a photo of the Kampala mayor, Al hajj Nasser Ssebagala and me. For starters, this man lacks basic education (the school type I mean). Listening to him make a speech in English, one is reminded of Mulili, the comic character in Francis Imbuga’s play, Betrayal in the City. The one who talks of a ‘breathing corpse’ and ‘being a professional soldier by profession’. Ssebagala’s use of tenses—if at all--- will leave one pitying the authors of semantic and lexical rules.
But that said, the man commands a more than fanatical following among city voters. In 2006, he swept aside the flamboyant, American-accented Pastor Sematimba to take the seat that he had lost in 1998 after being convicted in Boston, USA over possession of counterfeit dollars---and inadvertently bringing into Ugandan lingua, a new term ‘bichupuli’.
You may be wondering why I am dwelling on the past and fortunes of this mayor but recent events around this continent are compelling me to think. Look, early this week, the ruling African National Congress (ANC) party in South Africa met to elect a leader. This followed the expiry of the term of current President Thabo Mbeki. When the ballot is finally cast, Jacob Zuma, a political nemesis of Mbeki, emerges victorious.
I need not repeat here the story of Zuma, but allow me point out that Mbeki fired him as the country’s vice-president when his (Zuma’s) aide was implicated in a corruption scandal that saw an arms-procurement deal influenced. Naturally, we tend to be bitter with people we think are using undue influence to gain wealth, but to the contrary, Zuma’s popularity seemed to have hit fever-pitch high.
Of course, we can not pay a blind eye to the rape trial he was subjected to---and which to the majority of South African ordinaries was a ploy by Mbeki to damage (perhaps irreparably) Zuma’s image.
What is more telling about Zuma and what I want to focus on here is his apparent lack of academic papers. The types we call degrees and diplomas. Whereas Mbeki has a Masters in Economics from the UK, Zuma, who floored him, does not even have basic primary school education. So, why would a politician without formal schooling (like Ssebagala and Zuma), command such fanatical support among voters?
This, from close scrutiny is not just about the politics---it is about the disillusionment we the schooled people have subjected our lesser ‘educated’ brothers to. After independence, there was a surge of political and material optimism in most of Africa. The thought of our own sons and daughters managing our state of affairs was so promising that many at the time saw a great future ahead of them. In countries like Kenya, the ascension of the black man to power had come with a lot of blood sacrifice in from of the Mau Mau movement.
Not long after, the majority of the African masses painfully learnt that even their own sons, who had taken over reigns of power from the imperialists were not any different. And mark you; many of these were graduates of African and British universities. Their education and assumption of power had given the masses false confidence. It was not long before they were instituting tribalism and primitive drive for wealth. In Uganda for example the tribal bug caused the elitist regime of Obote to crumble under the P4 ‘graduate’ Amin. It was obvious that people were getting disillusioned with the educated.
With that phase gone and after sampling misery under the illiterate rulers like Mobutu, Bokassa and Amin, it looked like the return of educated leaders was inevitable.
But look, the wheel is coming full-circle. In South Africa for example, Mbeki is seen to have lost the ANC leadership because he had cemented a society of ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’. Few had become billionaires under him but majority had slid into poverty. In Kenya, Kibaki (now fighting for his political life—but left with a few days), is losing the grip to Raila, who though trained in a Communist German university, has packaged himself as the advocate of the riff-ruff of Kenya; the hoi-polloi.
So ladies and gentlemen, why are people perceived to be less educated or closer to the uneducated assuming leadership now across this continent? One thing explains it; education damages us---especially we Africans. Believe me or not but possession of a degree builds a certain level of pride in you. Makes you think you belong to an exclusive class of society and rubbing shoulders with the lower citizens is beyond you. In company of these less educated, you propound your theories of Malthusian unemployment and GDP, when what all these guys want to hear is simple explanation of why they cannot afford sugar or why their coffee is fetching less money this year than it did last year.
You assume sophiscation as the mark of your education and consequently isolate yourself from the simple, majority peasantry masses. And politics being the art of proximity coupled with numbers, you suffer Mbeki’s fate—rejection.
I will end with a tale about Larry Ellison, the CEO of Oracle Group and one time second richest man in the world. At a graduation at Yale one time, he told the graduands that they had made the mistake of their lives by gaining degrees. Those papers, he reasoned, would make them develop sophiscations, e.g. on only seeking for white-collar jobs and in the process would lose out on the more paying, though more demanding blue-collar jobs. He was hinting on the reasoning like ‘because I am a graduate, I can not work in a garage or hawk merchandise’. How right he was, because in this city for example, the top most millionaires are those who have risen from hawking to global retailing.
And now, Ellison’s fear is catching up in politics too. Degrees, rather than become an asset are becoming alienating. That is why people like Zuma, with no clear economic policy for Africa’s biggest economy and no degree, will become its President in 2009, as the majority uneducated, cast a protest vote against ‘we’ the educated. Be very afraid!!!!

"I" annihilates 'We"

2007-12-17T14:38:00.000+03:00

In one of his remarkable speeches, the renown American president, JF Kennedy warned that: "If mankind does not bring an end to war, war will bring an end to mankind". At his hindsight was the explosive possibility of the Cold War and the arms race.
Today, if JFK passed in Africa, i am sure he would caution: "If Africans do not put an end to greed, greed will put an end to Africans".
Look, an investigation reveals that people charged with the duty of distributing drugs freely to public health facilities have decided to ferry the drugs to private centres and sell them.
Obviously, this reduces accessibility to drugs and consequently deaths are imminent. For those of us who have access to health cover and rush to the doctor even with the slightest migraine, we may not actually know the impact of some of these things.
When a national paper runs a story that drugs worth sh100m have been diverted, we may just look on and brush it off as the next of the corruption scandals we have gotten used to. True, but for how long should mankind, in the crave for personal aggrandisement, subject other people to misery?
But as i posted earlier, we need to ask: why is man descending this low? Why would anyone with a conscience divert funds meant for HIV/AIDS victims to putting up personal mansions and shopping a fleet of cars for his concubines and himself? Surely, where has the word 'shame' gone?
Before you weep, like i do a great deal; stop and think---these people are products of our society. They are responding to standards and expectaions the rest of us are setting. The former Kagoma County MP, Dr. Frank Nabwiso, was voted out in 2006, and one of the reasons given by a section of his constituents was that he embarrased them by driving an old car. I listened to Dr. Nabwiso address a meeting in Makerere University in 2006 (after the elections) and he admitted that with his salary and family committments, he could not afford a 4-wheel-drive car. He actually rode a bicycle a couple of times!! To voters, this was a shame.
So, with a mindset like that, what do we expect people to do when they access positions that previlege them to handle big sums of money (even if it is not theirs?).
Just ask yourself, how many times have you judged a person by the car s/he drives or by the suit he wears, just because s/he holds a certain position? How many times does someone walk up to us and the first thing we do is look at the shoe type they have on or the wrist watch they are wearing?
It is common knowledge today that if someone ascends a 'top' position whether in politics or public office, a lot in terms of material flamboyance is expected of them. It is our expectation as the public that they build a mansion, acquire a state-of-the-art new wheels and manage a harem of concubines.
It is these standards we set that are driving men into vampires. That are turning people into blood-suckers. That are transforming man into a proponent of the "I" at the cost of the "We".
Of course this does not work in isolation. Some people are just greedy. Many of our 'liberators' today exhibit that. For a group of people who assumed power 20 years ago to have a bank balance of sh4 billion is total daylight robbery, when we know that all these years, these people have held public offices with clearly defined salaries that no amount fo saving can create such colossal bank balances.
I know that Capitalism has never left us the same. We have jumped onto the wealth bandwagon. but stop to think: before you pocket those millions, you are authoring the slow death of millions others. That before you divert those billions into buying a state-of-the-art benz, your action maybe subjecting thousands to a life of bad roads.
Lets just for once remember the "We" and dispose the "I".

victory of loss---the journey takes off

2007-12-14T13:39:00.000+03:00

I remember reading an extract from the Guinness book of records that announced that the most rigged election was held some time back in China, where the voter turn-out was even higher than the country's entire adult population and in the about 5 parties contesting, the ruling one scored over 100% votes (forget about the dead, etc).
I know that governments strive to live on and on and on. In so doing, amny especially in the developing world, will do everything, both legal and illegal to try and retain state power. Remember our own 1980 elections, where ballot papers were intetionally sent to wrong polling stations and candidates detained before polling day?
And many times because the elite are aware of these things (and supposed invicibility of current regimes), they opt to become apolitical. They will not register to vote and try to keep away in their NGO/Private sector life and leave public affairs to the thugs. "It will make no difference in my life," they argue. I need to testify that i subscribe to that school of thought myself.
However, are regimes as invicible as we suppose they are? Is it true that we can pay taxes and let them waste away because we are powerless? Are things God-ordained the way they are? We shall get to this a little bit later.
Back to the crave to retain power. In our own courtyard, events have been following the same the script. After the 2006 presidential elections in Uganda, several petitions in court, saw a couple of MPs being dethroned of their seats, either because they cheated or lacked necessary academic qualifications.
The classic case was that of Kirunda Kivejinja, the Third Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Information and National Guidance (a mouthful of a title...?). The 71-year-old gentleman (hard pressed to refer to him thus), was found guilty of bribing and intimidating supporters of his major opponent, Abdu Katuntu.
A re-run was ordered; and guess who goes to Bugweri to campaign for Kivejinja? President Yoweri Museveni. He tells the people there that Katuntu, a candidate of the opposition FDC party, will have no impact in the House. That he will be a mere figure-head.
We all know that Katuntu is a distinguished lawyer. In the 7th Parliament, he engineered great legislation, including moving a private members bill on accountability. He was voted by the whole House to represent Uganda in the Pan African Parliament. Surely, this can not be an empty tin.
My concern though, is the President's party, has over 250 MPs in a House of 300 MPs. Does he surely need a Parliament saturated with his loyalists only? Won't having a sensible opposition contribute to his own strength as people help point out weaknesess in his govt? Is it fair for leaders to crave only for loyalists and suppress even the least voice of dissent?
So, with the stage set, the people of Bugweri vote Katuntu and old Kivejinja is floored, despite 3 days of the President's lodging in their constituency!
This brings me to the earlier question i posed: are we powerless? The people of Bugweri, despite being peasants and despite the heavy military deployment, showed that voices of the common man, once united, are difficult to suppress.
In 1830 qnd 1848, when the ruling monarchs in Europe had become a problem, students and intellengetia took to the streets and led the whole of Europe into riots and protests. The monarchs came down crumbling.
It is about time that the elite (especially in Africa) shake off the lethargy and become active. It is about time that we realised the potential of united man.
And for leaders---it is not true to suppose that any opposition in any form is bad.
When one Russian Tsar wanted to retire, he called together his advisers and asked them whether he could go ahead and leave the throne. Many of them, cognisant of the fact that their material survival depended on him, urged him to cling on. However, one of them, asked the group to follow him outside. The whole troop went, not knowing what he was upto.
The single adviser led them to a cemetery; where at the gate as they entered, was a signpost: "We were once like you". He took them (with the Tsar ) around the cemetery and as they were getting out, they saw the other signpost: "And you will also be like us".
The Tsar, went to the palace and announced his resignation, appointing the lone adviser his successor.
I rest my case.

the other view: the other view: every journey has the first step

2007-12-13T20:07:00.000+03:00

the other view: the other view: every journey has the first step

the other view: every journey has the first step

2007-12-13T10:20:00.000+03:00

the other view: every journey has the first step

every journey has the first step

2007-12-12T20:21:00.000+03:00

I have been nursing this headache for a while. I visited the doctor yesterday and all tests (malaria/typhoid) read negative. "Stress," she concluded. Of course i was not surprised that i had stress. Remember for the past three or so weeks, i have been literally a captive of my desk. Since this famous or is it now infamous (with reports of sweeping Ebola under the carpet) summit came to town, it meant we (media) were never going to have free time; especially the desk people. So, when two of my colleagues broke down the week after, i knew my time was soon.
But we should ask: why is man working this hard? Is the work we do worth our health? In his masterpiece anti-apartheid book, 'In the Fog of the Seasons' End', Alex La Guma narrates the tale of Old Tsatsu, who 'worked to his death in order to stay alive.' The old man, was employed at a quary and he was discovered dead amidst a heap of stones he'd been breaking.
Do we ever realise that many of us are bound for Old Tsatsu's fate? I came to this desk at 8.00am, it is now 8.00pm and am still here---with a piercing headache. Obviously all is not well. But because bread and butter must make their way to my table---this must be my fate.
But again, i beg to ask---is this our fate? should we turn into robots just because we have let the dictates of the day say so? Have we become so chained in today's unfair world that our shcakles can no longer be broken? Must i slave 14 hours a day and receive peanuts, when the guy working six executive hours pockets the 'apples and milk' like Squealer in Animal Farm?
Those caught up in my situation, i say---we have chosen to be this way. Just like we have chosen to be this way, we can also choose how we should be. Karl Marx, when making a case for the workers, said: "Rise up, for you have nothing to lose but your chains..."
The headache gets worse...let's pick on from here on the next post

WE BEGIN THE JOURNEY

2007-12-12T16:22:00.000+03:00

What is the role of our existence? why do we walk this earth? Should our time here be a picnic or must we try to make it a picninc for everybody?
these questions trouble me. Bob, my good friend recently asked me: Why do we always have a sense of relief when we learn that somebody else might be in a worse position than we are in? why do we feel lighter when we know that it is not only us in a certain predicament?
Is human nature naturally selfish? do we always crave to see that others are in anguish like us?
Look, how else would you explain someone seeking to make wealth out of the misery of others? how can someone pocket sh4 billion meant for medication of HIV patients and he converts it to personal wealth in form of bungalows and luxury cars? If you have followed the Ugandan political theatre---you then know that am referring to a one Jim Muhwezi---a fromer health minister who appropriated Global Funds to his wallet.
And this is not limited to the top brass; picture the bodaboda guy, who upon seeing you well-dressed, decides to charge you double the normal price.
these things suck----but in subsequent posts, we shall unravel the changing face of man. Why the 'I' is superceding the 'We'. Why (in my prediction), we are going to destroy ourselves, as we try to create individual space for ourselves. I will guide you on how mankind is turning out to be mankind's biggest threat.
let me recollect.

here i come

2007-02-05T17:48:00.000+03:00

to those with little faith...those living in deserts of knowledge, the intellectaully malnourished of this globe...the literally underfed, here i come. Remember, i may not have been to your famous lecture rooms, never have seen a dissertation...but am determined to give you the best of wisdom...and real wisdom. The type that will help you tell why your disposition is the way it is, the wisdom that will help you see things from a perspective you had not thought of. That explains 'the other view'