As you may recall, so often you do, sometime back in serenity of these very memoirs, I related to you the unbearably painful story of that most defiant of all human rights defenders personally known to me~ Vincent Vessy Nuwagaba. I met Vincent in the most unusual of circumstances which I am extremely hesitant to reproduce here for fear of repeating myself just too much. http://kyomuhendoa.wordpress.com/2010/05/26/for-vincent-nuwagaba-human-rights-defender-brother-friend-and-comrade/

For the same reasons why we lionize him and exalt the truth of his struggles, Vincent is ‘in contact’ with some fanatical elements in the Kampala regime who seem manifestly hell- bent towards killing or destroying him and thus dealing with this problem ‘once and for all’. Here is his latest account.

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AS A UGANDAN CITIZEN, I DEMAND JUSTICE OR DEATH

BY VINCENT NUWAGABA

Vincent Vessy Nuwagaba ©

http://pambazuka.org/en/category/comment/81304

A personal account of human rights abuse in Uganda raises questions about the role of mainstream human rights organizations supported by international donors.

My pen has since the beginning of 2011 been silent. So many people have been wondering as to what could have happened to me but some have insinuated that I joined Museveni’s ruling National Resistance Movement (NRM). And just like the French saying goes, ‘La bouche qui manger ne parler pas’, meaning that a mouth that is eating doesn’t speak, some people think I am now eating with the ruling cabal. On the contrary, I am still wondering as to why the ruling NRM wants to exterminate me using state institutions that are mandated to protect our rights and our lives.

THE UGANDA HUMAN RIGHTS COMMISSION NAKEDNESS

On 8 February 2012, I went to Speke Resort, Munyonyo for a workshop organised by the Uganda Human Rights Commission (UHRC). The Uganda Prisoners’ Aid Foundation (UPAF) was invited to present a civil society perspective of the state of prisoners’ rights in Uganda. As UPAF’s research coordinator and a person well-conversant with not only prisoners’ rights but also human rights generally, given that I am an ex-prisoner and a human rights defender and scholar, the UPAF chairman Mr. J.K. Zirabamuzale assigned me to write the paper. The agreement was that when he presented it, I would be around. I have in the past attended UHRC workshops whenever our organisation is invited and I have been at the forefront of quite a number of human rights activities together with UHRC and other human rights organisations.

This time when I arrived in the conference room, I found Ms Christine Nading, Assistant Commissioner of Police Legal speaking. The issues she raised demanded that they be responded to by a person who knows the conduct of the police thoroughly – not the one who reads about the police in newspapers and watches them on television sets. I accordingly, wrote a chit for UHRC’s Roselyn Karugonjo-Segawa asking to be given time to respond to Christine Nading. I thought I was doing the most diplomatic thing only to be told a short while later that I was not supposed to be in that function. I explained to them that our organisation (UPAF) was invited and that we were presenting a paper.

I was kicked, humiliated, dehumanised and brutalised by the police at the orders of Roselyn Karugonjo-Segawa, UHRC’s Director of Monitoring and Inspections, and Gordon Mwesigye, the UHRC Secretary. In a human rights function, organised by the Uganda Human Rights Commission to prepare for the Universal Periodic Report (UPR), a human rights defender who has sacrificed too much, suffered at the hands of the police, been put in jail for advocating the rights of the voiceless is subjected to cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment by the very people who are mandated to protect all Ugandans’ rights. Shame on Roselyn Karugonjo-Segawa and shame on Gordon Mwesigye, and if these people were human enough they should have resigned from their offices on that very Wednesday of 8 February 2012.

After roughing me up, I was driven to Kabalagala Police station in the UHRC vehicle. From Kabalagala, I was driven to Butabika Mental Hospital in the Police Patrol vehicle. When I reached the Out Patient Department (OPD) of Butabika, the policemen who had taken me there were embarrassed when the hospital staff told them, ‘the man is sane, why have you brought him here?’ Meanwhile before reaching Butabika I was deprived of my Bata shoes, my shirt, money and many other possessions. They left me there and I walked on my own half-naked as they had deprived me of my shoes and my shirt.

HELL IN BUTABIKA

I was lucky to find a friend who took me to his home and gave me lunch, a shirt and shoes and Sh5,000 for my transport. The following day on 9 February 2012, I went back to Butabika and this time I had gone to talk to the hospital administration to warn them against pandering to the whims of those that are persecuting me on political grounds. What befell me instead was total hell. Dr Julius Muron ordered the hospital guards to arrest me and take me to the police. At the police post, Muron himself said, ‘This man is perfectly sane, he doesn’t have any mental or psychiatric problem but he is causing chaos within the hospital’. He then added, ‘Keep him here and charge him’. I was then locked up at the police post. Later I learnt that when one of the policemen came (he wears civilian attire and therefore he could be the Criminal Investigation Detective), he told Muron that they had no way to charge me because I hadn’t committed any offence.

Thereafter, I was grabbed by the hospital guards at the orders of Dr Julius Muron and taken to Kirinya ward from where Dr Muron subjected me to 18 injections, nine on each side of the buttocks and later dumped me into a side room which is an equivalent of the solitary cells from which they torture some prisoners in Luzira. Later I became unconscious and I regained my consciousness after 12 days on 21 February.

I have been told that if one of the support staff members who happens to be my relative (whose name I will not reveal now for fear of reprisals) wasn’t there to feed me by forcefully opening my lips, get mushrooms for me, wash me and nurse me like his own son, I would definitely have died.

Without any sense of shame, even when I regained my consciousness, I was kept on drugs; the same drugs which almost claimed my life in 2008. On the 23rd I left Butabika without any formal discharge.

The Pan Africanists at Makerere who saw me were shocked and suggested that I must go for a medical examination. At first I hesitated but every passing day, I am losing weight at a rate that has gotten me worried. All the very small sized trousers that I had already shelved cannot even fit me.

Meanwhile as Dr Muron did whatever he did, I was deprived of my property – my laptop computer, my shirt and jacket, my pair of trousers, my wallet containing huge sums of money, my belt, my phone, shoes and a bible. When I went to Butabika, I was initially only given a phone and Sh100 but later, they gave me a pair of shoes and a bible.

I have in the past sued Dr Tom Onen together with the Attorney General under civil suit 92/2009. Sadly, although neither the Attorney General nor Dr Onen filed a defence and therefore I was waiting for ex parte judgement, I was shocked to learn that my case was dismissed on 28 August 2009 at a time when I was on remand in Murchison Bay Prison Luzira on trumped up charges of assault and threatening violence. The ‘crime’ I had committed though, to which I pleaded guilty, was opposing the increment of fees in public universities by up to 126 percent.

After suing Dr Onen, I was declared persona non-grata in Butabika and I was tortured, traumatized and tormented several times by the police and Butabika Hospital guards at the orders of a one Grace Lubale, a former Butabika Hospital Administrator. Grace would tell me, ‘Nuwagaba, you sued us; you are therefore not allowed to step here’. Even when I would go to visit the victims of political persecution and the thieving political establishment such as Gaudence Tushabomwe, who was conned of her money by an organisation that had links with the ruling party, I would be tormented.

The UHRC whose mandate is to ensure the protection and defence of our rights has also fallen victim and it is at the forefront of the perpetration, perpetuation, orchestration and promotion of injustice.

When I reported to the president about my ordeal, some of the young men and women initially seemed interested in giving me a fair hearing. With time, however, Justus Karuhanga, President Museveni’s former legal officer told me, ‘Nuwagaba, you can go to court and sue the government’. I am interested in knowing whether or not the office of the president ever had a hand in the dismissal of my case without even giving me a ruling.

The courts, which are supposed to be temples of justice, cannot dispense justice to the unsung victims such as Nuwagaba. The Ugandan media can only write about a personality whom they feel can sell their papers; the so-called human rights organisations of which I am a member to some cannot inspire hope. They employ people whose interest is not promoting human rights but making money. Many of our human rights organisations, if not all, get money from donors purportedly to help the voiceless citizens. What they do instead is write accountability papers for the donors and they give no accountability to the voiceless citizens on whose behalf they get the funding. In analysis, they con, cheat and dupe the donors who give them money to help the voiceless.

I know I am broaching a hot subject but I must not keep silent. I have taught in the university and have worked with civil society organisations. I have seen only one genuine human rights organisation in Uganda called Uganda Prisoners’ Aid Foundation under the stewardship of J.K. Zirabamuzale. It is the only organisation that does human rights work even when it has no funding from anybody and none of the staff is a salaried employee.

I have seen discrimination, sectarianism, and inequality perpetrated by the so-called human rights defenders. No wonder many of them do not have the wherewithal to challenge the government where it goes wrong.

CONCLUSION

I am a Ugandan citizen, not anybody’s subject. Like I have stated before when I wrote to IGP (Inspector General of Police) Kale Kayihura, I am an ethnic Mukiga and the Bakiga have never had a king. Accordingly, we have never been subjects. I am a firm believer in non-violence and my icons are Jesus Christ, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King and our very own Norbert Mao. Whoever feels threatened by my words must him/herself be suffering from schizophrenia. I have several times been thrown in jail for no offence committed. In 2008 I escaped death by a whisker as Dr Onen was used to kill me; just recently Dr Muron wanted to kill me and I don’t know whether I am safe yet. As a citizen, I demand justice or death.

~END~

In the pursuit of transparent public governance, no one individual’s interests are above public scrutiny- be those of the head of state in all his excellency, those of the chief justice in all his eminence, those of the parliamentary speaker, or even those of the newspaper editor. The only interest(s) whose protection is beyond any logical contest are those of the common citizen.

Thus, where a public officer tends towards arrogance, as has Prof. Mutebile in his most recent media briefing, in response to calls and clamors from a citizenry for accountability in the department he leads, which it is their right to demand, such pompous statements should never be allowed to stand. He should be seen giving accountability and only accountability!

Governor Mutebile is increasingly becoming a reckless, desperate and discredited man. Right about December 2010 in the run to Feb. ’11 elections, he was implicated in signing documents that caused the printing- let’s call it publishing, of billions of legal tender to facilitate the re-election of his boss- Yoweri Museveni. This caused double- digit inflation.

At around the same time, he was accused of extending dubious loan payments to Hassan Basajjabalaba, that notorious city businessman, through his company Basajjabalaba Hides and Skins LTD. It should be noted that, in Uganda, seldom do local businessmen benefit from such rare presidential benevolence and magnanimity. That money will never be paid back!

Governor Mutebile and Yoweri Museveni were implicated as the chief architects of the project that saw the Ugandan taxpayer lose $740 million (about Shs1.7 trillion) in the purchase of Sukhoi Su-30MKI fighter jets and other most sophisticated military hardware. All this was done in unprecedented secrecy without parliamentary approval. That came in the retrospective!

Plus many more such thefts and robbing that the public may never become aware of until probably guards change or revolution breaks in Kampala, the Governor Mutebile is now being implicated in the inflated and dubious compensation to the same Hassan Basajjabalaba over the loss of city markets and other valuable property. Loss is worth Ushs. 142 Billion!

Under pressure from that fantastic group of young aggressive legislators, day by the day becoming more and more influential in an increasingly activist Parliament, two powerful cabinet ministers occupying high places in the N.R.M party cadreship have since fallen. But for his part Governor Mutebile, with whom they are roundly accused, promises to fall hard!

In his latest press conference of Thurs 1^st March 2012, he has assured his markets not to worry at all about what he leisurely dismisses as ‘the rumblings’ of parliament and that he is here for the long haul. That he is not insane, incompetent or dishonest, constitutional grounds upon which he can be ousted, to warrant fulfillment of the sinister cravings of his detractors.

Abwooli, the governor’s remarks not only pain and annoy in as far as they go a very long way in belittling a people’s democratically elected representatives and, actually, the very arm of government in which they serve – parliament, but they also shine a bright light upon two extremely important issues that are gaining increased prominence in the Ugandan political debate of today.

First, there is a rising clique of abusively arrogant and annoyingly insensitive individuals who commit or aid and abet some power brokers in the commission of numerous crimes against the people of Uganda and are in turn guaranteed material gain or promised comfort and protection from a prying legislature, an alert judiciary and a public increasingly getting agitated. They are truly deadly!

Like detectives torn out of the pages of a best- selling fictional spy – work, they carry on their crimes with a poise and glee that is unparalleled. Since there is only one authority to fear, and it is the same authority that pays them to spread fear, they tend to the ruthless. They work with the devotion, intrepidity, and determination of only a surgeon in a busy heart- theater that they leave the onlooker severely astonished!

Sometime last year, a young man used the butt of his loaded pistol to smash the car- windows of a public figure, in full glare of national and international cameras and doused him in pepper spray just too much for any human consuming. He then went on, dragging him by the collar, and stacked him into the beneath of the blue cold steel of a waiting police cabin!

Prof. Mutebile’s press briefing exposed him as yet another addition to that long list- though not as rugged and crude as the young man. He never cared at all for the flotsam and jetsam that provide for his livelihood, the livelihood that sustains his arrogance, but reserved apologies for only the markets, his boss and God- for ‘He Only can sack him’.

The Embattled Governor of the Bank of Uganda Prof. Emmanuel Tumusiime- Mutebile. Photo Courtesy of the Daily Monitor-

Secondly, Abwooli, there is too, a worryingly increasing trend where the country’s most brilliant children are systematically being wasted away by the yellow machine and cheered on by its operator. I don’t know whether it is calculated but all I know it is happening. I also don’t know whether someone wants to fall with everyone…!

Yoweri Museveni, upon hearing of the career accomplishments of a distinguished Ugandan, gets keenly interested and beckons him by his side- which wouldn’t be bad for national development. He starts courting and flirting with them promising them high luxury and comfort. When he eventually succeeds, the individual’s decaying process begins in earnest!

He first lives true to his word by handing them extremely juicy and influential political positions under which dockets they supervise enterprises worth billions. He then through his frighteningly loyal cronies sets the bait in motion. It could be in by way of a rewarding tender or a kick- back on an influential government contract. Recall, too, that the good fellow is now in charge.

It is inherently the nature of the human to get tempted. So when such a deal comes by the fellow is reminded of a promised family holiday in Barbados or a vacation somewhere in the Emirates, probably the stunningly beautiful and lavish Burj- al- Arab. He briskly jumps at the opportunity not knowing that someone is manipulating the strings from somewhere. When the deal is done, someone has the other by the firm grip of his five fingers.

Someone knows that the other’s reputation is now in tatters and rags- not fashionable anymore, since he has evidence of a side of the individual that the public knows not of. The fellow gets entirely tangled in someone’s web. At this stage, he cannot untangle himself. This is usually employed to such figures as may become threats, in the present or in the foreseeable future, to someone’s grip on power. Or whom, for whichever reasons, he has never forgiven.

Of course the list is endless. Medical Professor Gilbert Balibaseka- Bukenya, Dr. Ezra Suruma, Law Professor Edward Khidu- Makubuya, Professor Tarsis Kabwengyere, Ali Kirunda- Kiveijinja, David Chandi- Jamwa, Prof. Emmanuel Tumusiime- Mutebile ………..And *let’s all watch very keenly*, soon, finance Minister Maria Kiwanuka.

Just as it is the business of Money merchants in Metropolitan Forex Bureaus to convert the Peso into the Dirham, the Dirham into the Dollar,  the Dollar into the Pound- Sterling and the Pound- Sterling into the Yen or Yuan, so too is it the business money to transform the deeds of men!

Money on men is like seasons on snakes or victory to commanders.When a snake becomes, it be-comes with a lovely, smooth and radiant skin- as if put together by the combined hands of six coronet artisans. At that point, the snake is more beautiful to look at than the setting sun at its most golden or the finest silks at their most silken.

But as the snake grows, its skin becomes more rugged and wrinkled with each passing day, more and more discouraging to steal a glance at than a dog severely assaulted by the calamitous pangs of old age. It too then bears all the known marks of old age.

But a time comes when the seasons also realize the wasting away of nature’s splendor and magnificence.A time when they realize they must heed to the far- cries of its clarion call. They then hurry to its urgent rescue and bring conditions favorable for its eventual renewal through the process sloughing-the shedding of its old skin.The snake then radiates anew!

Also, when a commander outwits and discomfits the enemy in all the formations that he comes and registers a most killing victory, he radically transforms from being humble, gracious, warm and obedient- as he was known to be on the eve of that feted battle, to being proud, manful and boastful.

The delights and rewards glory- the garlands, the sacred drinks, the drinking horns, the mementoes and the sparkling bead- necklaces-, he wins from his king and superiors in rank make matters even worse. Thus the more victories he brings home, the more honoured is his name and feasts he secures for himself with the lofty in birth and the high in rank.

Such is the intoxicating effect of victory, like money, on men, that when delivered in its full dozens, they tend to slough and transform like the snake of the seasons!

Abwooli, Kajango was the man that lived by the banks of the great Mwitanzige long before you were born. He was a Musaigi by clan and a proud descendant his great- grandfather, the illustrious Batahuule’ebibabagambiire Rwa Makune.

Batahuule, as the locals intimately knew him, was the first man ever in his kingdom to win the favour of his king and wear the valued coronet solely on the account of a musical accomplishment!

It were the imperial maneuverings and lordly manipulations of his agile dancing legs at that ceremony welcoming the harvest season- the season of Nyabagaba, Goddess of plenty-that caught the sharp eye of the kings scout Magambo out on a mission to bring to his master the kingdom’s finest dancer.

The dancer was to then perform at the important ceremony where the stubbornly beautiful Princess Kabacungwa was to be betrothed to Rugamban’engo, the fearsome son of Chief Muza’huranganda Rwa Mugenyi. Rugamban’engo was the ruthless commander of Ekiporopyo Regiment that had just conquered the lands west of the great Mwitanzige.

The occasion attracted the presence of Princes and Kings, Princesses and Queens from the all the nine neighboring kingdoms! Trusting as he was of both Magambo’s sharp scoutly eye and Batahuule’s swift dancing feet, it was towards the end of the ceremony that the king beckoned Batahuule to do as he was reported to do most.

Batahuule yet again never disappointed.  The subtle and colorful movements of his carefully balanced steps coupled with the unique format of his large body movements perfectly executed in tempered tempos only served but to solicit an unprecedented ecstatic seizure from the expensively robed and head- geared important guests that graced this important occasion hosted by an important king for an importantly favourite daughter!

Afrikan Princess. Portrait coutersy of Flickr

And who delights a king and knows anguish? Batahuule was rewarded with the most sought- after ancient honour hitherto exclusively reserved for the brave and esteemed in battle!

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Such was the proud and famous ancestry from which Kajango claimed descent.

But life often throws up some fearsome ironies and ghastly paradoxes whose happenings and ceasings men have not the slightest control. Thus, too, Batahuule’s fortune and fame; power and influence; honour and dignity were not to fall, like inheritance, on the shoulders of Kajango, his grandchild, as had on the shoulders of his son Nyendwoha, Kajango’s father.

Kajango’s father –Nyendwoha, was somewhat an influential man in his entire village. Being as he was the heir of the skilled and famous dancer Batahuule, he had inherited his father’s name, land, plantations, cattle, concubines and, most important of all, the royal connections to King Nyabongo’s household that his father’s dancing accomplishments had helped establish.

Since that ceremony of the giveaway of Princess Kabacungwa to Rugamban’engo, fearsome commander- son of Chief Muza’huranganda Rwa Mugenyi, the two families, of Omukama Nyabongo and of Batahuule, had established between themselves a bond so strong that Batahuule’s twelve children, of which the most  prominent was Nyendwoha, in fact went as far as sharing the beautifully cut and curved milk- gourds with the younger of Omukama Nyabongo’s children.

One of them was Princess Komwiswa. Nyendwoha Rwa Batahuule and Princess Komwiswa had grown up playing together, along with the other children of both families, at the King’s spacious palace at Musaijamukuru and seldom at Batahuule’s humble enclosure just by the stream of Rwebikoohi that was known to light bright during the night.

The king had nine palaces, and in the nine palaces, each a consort. He thus was always on the move for both the execution of his stately duties and the satisfaction of his voyeur tendencies. So it became almost impossible to personally monitor the daily play and growth of his forty- nine children from the nine consorts- and beyond.

It was this precious absence that both Princess Komwiswa and Nyendwoha Rwa Batahuule exploited to fall madly in love.

Nyendwoha was a whole fifteen years older than Princess Komwiswa. Yet it seemed Princess Komwiswa never cared for a moment about this age deficit! All she cared and craved for was to make and dress her lover in  that finest smelling traditional royal perfume that only the royal page Kanyange, whom old age had already claimed its own, knew how to carefully mix, even if it meant stealing her father’s few- left ancient sacred seeds that lay hidden somewhere in between the thatches and poles of his royal enclosure!

Nyendwoha had to carry on him the scent of their love wheresoever he went and wheresoever dined. After all, she would gladly give him as many children as he demanded of her womb. They would then walk and run the whole earth in the happy celebration of their love.

Of her lover, she particularly was most fond of those dimples that, as the poet had neatly observed, ‘were deep enough to mingle millet in’ and, too, the dexterity of his father’s spectacular dancing moves.

Kajango was thus but a fulfillment of Princess Komwiswa’s loving pledge to her lover Nyendwoha.

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Such a writer, As we suckled at the same breast, many a time tends to barter his distinguished craft at the trade with the unsavory promptings and encouragements of his emotions and passions- those that immediately accompany news of such occurrences and happenings. He, or his works, thus become(s) a slave or child of Agony or Ecstasy.

At such moments, he totally loses grip of his objectivity and with it, more unfortunately, that detachment he hitherto had from the emotions that lie hidden in the poundings of his breast- probably which one quality may have endeared him, as is often the case, to that most faithful and loyal reader of his works to such proportions as to crown him noted or distinguished.

Thus when he is called upon to, say, write a eulogy of such a departed loved one at the tragic occasion of the latter’s funeral, or, if not actually dead, a speech at his wedding, the writer tends to glide his pen the wrong way of glaring untruths, which it customarily is not his nature, to either gloriously honour the memory of his fallen friend in the case of the former or delight both the audience and his walking- down- the- aisle- friend in the case of the latter.

It is the reader then that becomes the ultimate loser when this happens. He is cheated. He is cheated because he is forced to consume content that is adulterated by emotion. His faith in the writer is also betrayed. It is betrayed because the writer, and his opinions, become what he is not or what they are not. The musings of the writer declaim what is not. And what is not- is not!

Cognizant therefore of all the risks above, I will write of Nambaziira Doreen Agnes as I knew her. But there is more as to why I should write of her as I knew her: It would be sheer betrayal to the truthful disposition she happily cut while alive if I were to attempt and write of her other than as I knew her. She succumbed to brain hemorrhage on the night of February 14^th 2012 at Nsambya Hospital.

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I first met Agnes Doreen Nambaziira sometime in 2008 when she had just successfully been elected a Guild Representative Councilor (G.R.C) of Africa Hall, Makerere University. It was through her inseparable and most intimate friend Hellen Namuyiga, who too, had just clinched the same feat. The two were to each other what wings are to many birds.

I too had also just been elected G.R.C of the Great Lumumba Hall and was in addition to that on a mad pursuit for votes for the coveted position of Editor- in- Chief of the Makererean. The voting college constituted all the G.R.C’s of Makerere University’s eleven halls of residence viz The Great Lumumba, Mary Stuart, Livingstone, Africa, Mitchell, Complex, University, Nkrumah, Nsibirwa, Galloway and Kabanyoro.

So it was this process of soliciting for votes that led me to Africa Hall where I first encountered Doreen. When I knocked at her door, she warmly welcomed me, as though we were old acquaintances, and ushered me into her neat and well- decorated room with that contagious smile that was hers. She had so delightful a way of speaking!

She sat me down –on a bed- like a mother does, listened to what I had to say absorbedly like a General monitoring the movement of his troops from atop a hill and then when I was through, frankly stared into my eyes- unlike some of her contemporaries who promised me their votes as soon as I came visiting, just as they had done to all my opponents, and told me she could not commit herself at that particular moment.

She walked me out of Africa, again as though we were already known to one another, and wished me the very best of luck. But shortly before that, I vividly recall her reprimanding me for leaving her room without eating anything.

She was to later on throw her weight behind my bid in the last stages of the campaign. It actually took me a lot more convincing to win her one vote than it took me to win the whole election.

Such, Abwooli, was the woman Nambaziira Agnes Doreen-gracious, humble, moral, courageous, selfless, candid, freethinking, kind, respectful, beautiful, dutiful, worshipful and rightful. These qualities were too alluring to be snubbed by those that shared in the warmth of her friendship and the virtues of her leadership. Little wonder, yet again, that those gentlest women of Africa accorded to her the highest honour they had to give, that of Chairlady.

Nambaziira Doreen Agnes, R. I. P

She was also a daring champion of social equality and justice. One fine November day when the University administration attempted to outsource to private investors the catering services in the halls of residence, Doreen was one of those student leaders that were front-most in the condemnation of the venal idea. You should have seen how passionate she was!

She scorned, as did most of us, the idea on grounds that such a policy was unfriendly to the students the bulk of whom we represented came from poor families and that the private caterers would charge them exorbitantly and that some would actually go starving. She, as did most of us, further argued that the Ug. Shs 2000 stipend that was to be apparently extended to government sponsored students was too paltry as to feed them a day given the rising food costs.

When we realized that the then Guild President Robert Okware was softening his stance, after allegedly being bribed, I along with other student leaders like Okot Wokoratch Steven, Baluku Ronald Masamba and Tooratch Leo Steven mobilized and summoned all the G.R.C’s to the Great Lumumba Hall to confer upon the issue. All along, Doreen was bravely with us!

The session was not convened as it ordinarily should have been, but the exigencies of the situation so demanded since the Guild Speaker Mr. Massete Kenneth and President Okware, who were constitutionally mandated to summon a guild session, were dragging their feet at the detriment of the students who were fast losing their rights and dignity.

That session came with its attendant consequences among which was the summoning by the then Dean of Students Mr. John Ekudu- Adoku of myself and Mr. Baluku Ronald to the University Disciplinary Committee with the prospect of expulsion from the University for incitement of Students to strike through the convening of an illegal meeting. Though sanity in the end did prevail, it did prevail because of the protestations, petitions and pressures from gallant women like Doreen.

Doreen, we behold you in glory. May God comfort your mother, of whom am reliably informed you were the lone child of her womb, your family, your faithful friends especially Hellen Namuyiga of whom you leave alone in such deep agony and pain, your classmates and lecturers at Medical School and the entire Afro- Stone fraternity. We shall miss your ever reassuring company. We shall all miss your warm affectionate smile.

Farewell gentle friend, gentle woman.

The fiery eloquence with which they craft, just like the proud and expert hands of an eminent Aztec goldsmith fashioning a royal jewel for Montezuma’s royal appealing and wearing, their kangaroo judgments allow no space for appeal! In fact the energies and sensations they employ in their declaims of condemnation, son of my father, far surpass those of Emperor Shaka’s warrior- Indunas at the enemies of The Great Elephant of Kwa Bulawayo and thus any inch of his vast frontiers!

Rujumba, extremists are terrorists and one who pronounces extremism pronounces terrorism. Therefore, the use and counter use of the two adjectives is just as intertwined as the webs of the other spider in the house of my grandmother. I will thus prefer to use the latter of the two, so let not your fine eyebrows be raised for a moment.

These shameless terrorists in fact go as far as proclaiming and asserting that our ways now, in their most crude, are even worse, in the regard of our mothers, daughters and wives, than those of the Pre- Islamic Arabia Jahilia Period, were women were bartered and battered or newly begotten females slayed at birth- because, apparently, they had no worth.

To substantiate this, they cite Female Genital Mutilation among the Sabiny and Pokot peoples, a customary decree that the crown prince at the passing on of his father, among the Baganda, must first exchange privates with a 12 or so year-old from a certain clan to seal his ascension to the throne of his forefathers and the throwing off the highest cliff of, among the Kiga of Western Uganda, a girl who go pregnant before completion of all marriage rites among others. These imported religions have also no helped matters.

Rujumba, those are the tests, low as they are, that are unfortunately used by these terrorists to judge and weigh the ways of our people long established over generations of consistent and committed practice by our forefathers, recall always to pour them libation whenever you must drink, and foremothers- recall, too, to offer sacrifices of the choicest meats to them whenever you must visit the shrines. These myopic opinions of the ways of our people and our people at large must be countered with all the contempt they deserve.

This is not to say that the above practices should be preserved by any section of our peoples, I actually strongly think they should not, all in the name of preserving our beautifully unique cultures and the philosophies that underlie them.

All I am saying, as we suckled at the same breast, is that a more objective test should be adopted in the judgment of the ways of my people for history, that these terrorists do not read, is littered with practices that exalt the rank of a woman, both as a mother and princess or as a daughter in the classic African setting. Actually, it can be argued that as regards the treatment of women when viewed from an objective lens, African Societies could be rated as the most progressive and respectful in the world!

Princess Katrina Ssangalyambogo of Buganda greets King Oyo Nyimba Kabamba Iguru on his 18th Birthday Celebrations at Kabalole . Photo Courtersy of Presidential Press Unit- Uganda.

Among the Baganda and the Banyoro for instance, mothers occupy such highly privileged positions in these respective societies that their words are respected for a communication from the gods and deities. A mother’s word or counsel is of such supreme importance to the child that deviance therefrom is almost unknown. A mother’s curse, according to the Nyoro Anthropologist and Historian John William Nyakatuura in his book Emirwa y’Ihanga lya Kitara, is most dreaded.

Thus the supreme punishment that could be meted out to any one in old Nyoro society was where a mother angrily raised her apparels, in a cursing posture, exposing in the process her nakedness to the errant child. Such a child was considered doomed and ruined with no prospects of living long. To stress how dreaded this deed was, Nyakatuura further posits that not even God Ruhanga could rescind it, unless the child apologized by special rituals whereupon the mother could unwind the curse and take back the child! There is, too, a long line of proverbs stressing this point. This remains up to now the case in Tooro.

Further among the Baganda, a princess commanded the same respect as a prince from both within royal enclosures and without. Thus what a prince could do, a princess would also do. There are actually some incidents where some princesses, thanks to their charisma and virtues, occupied more lofty positions in society than their male counterparts- like the woman Nannono whom we shall turn to in a moment.

No wonder some of these norms have been transported to this Mutebi generation- Omulembe Omutebi- such as reference to princes and princesses alike as Ssebbo. Thus Omumbejja in Buganda is respectfully and deferentially addressed as Ssebo. In ordinary speak and parlance, Ssebo applies to men as does Nnyabo to women.

Again in battle- times, Nyoro history proudly chronicles the supreme emotional and physical heroism of women like Kanyange Nyamutahingurwa Omunyonzakati just as Europe does of Joan of Arc or Islamic Civilization of Hamid Begum in the court of Nizam- ul- Mulk among other notable Muslim heroines.

Joan of Arc was the brave woman of Europe who, garbed in male battle- attire, so valiantly fought in the siege of Orleans, 1428 C. E. She discomfited the English in the celebrated battle of Pietz and almost singly sat Charles VII on the throne. So brave was Joan that in the year 1431, her heroism caused her premature end.

She was burnt alive for it was put about that her prowess was so supernatural that it could only be the caused by sorcery! But she was afterwards invested with a halo of glory and her great deeds are now cited in history books as examples of supreme heroism. In 1920, she was canonized, that is, acclaimed officially as a saint by the Roman Catholic Church!

The Islamic poet Mirza Hadi cited by Allama Syed Sulaiman Nadwi in the little delicious book Heroic Deeds of Muslim Women, © Africa Muslims Agency, at p. 45- 46 in the battle against ‘Adil Khan recounts Hamid Begum’s heroism in the defense of her master Nizam- ul- Mulk, thus: ‘she stood like an adamantine rock in the battlefield…she put on a veil over her pretty form, and fastened ornamented sword and dagger around her waist. And when the two forces arrayed in opposition, she herself stood manfully like an impenetrable mountain during the fight and discomfited the assailants…taking possession of their elephants and guns returning gloriously.’

Thus too, Abwooli -was Kanyange Nyamutahingurwa Omunyonzakati mother of your illustrious great- great- grandfather conquering Emperor Chwa II Kabaleega of Bunyoro. When the white man touched upon these lands, raping, scorching villages and massacring as he did, Kabaleega constructed perhaps the most celebrated guerilla war- horse in the defense of his Empire’s sovereignty.

He heroically resisted the dreaded Gun Maxim for well over decade. A decade here should be understood in the context of the speed with which the wind spread the white man’s gunpowder, the technological supremacy of his firepower and the sheer inhumanity of his battle stratagems!

However we shall explore the lengths and breadths of his heroic virtues one fine morning, not today. What is crucial here is the support that women, including Kanyange, rendered to the sustenance of the most honorable cause. It is recorded by K. W, of whom Kabaleega is a direct ancestor, that the struggle would probably not have lasted that long if it were not for this support.

Princess Komuntale of Tooro

They acted spies thus relaying information from the enemy ranks, provided psychological support to their fighting husbands most notable being the Musongorakati wife of General Rwabudongo. For her part, Kanyange Nyamutahingurwa was one of the last persons to be captured by Colonel Colville’s menacing and rampaging forces.

Abwooli, if I attempted to exhaust this rather limitless list of deeds pointing to the conclusion that a woman was, contrary to the unresearched and boringly monotonous counter- opinions, held in highest esteem and regard, with respect and love, as she still is, by the society in which our forefather’s lived and in which we currently live, the effort would if not prove unsuccessful, outlast eight full moons and four dry seasons, for it winds and winds like the Musizi River!

Two incidents that I have not seen related anywhere except in between the old brown- covers of a few dusty and lonely books and the memories of men shall be used to cap up my argument that Classical Nyoro and Ganda societies- call it Afrikan, respected a woman and held her in the highest esteem than what regularly meets the eye.

Nannono of Buganda

During the reign of Ssekabaka Nakibinge, Buganda witnessed events that were to eventually propel a woman –Nannono, to occupy the throne Nnamulondo of Buganda. Because of his noted bravery and courage, Omukama Olimi I Rwitamahanga Omwitabya^ro Owa Kalimbi- scourge of nations, of Bunyoro succeeded his father Winyi I Rubembeka Ntara who also succeeded his father Oyo Nyimba Kabamba Iguru. When Buganda invaded the Nyoro counties of Bweera and Bulemeezi, Olimi I personally led his army to face off with Ganda and Nakibinge.

These events in turn led the two armies to run into one another at Murago- as the Banyoro remember it or Mulago- as was known within the Ganda ranks. The epic battle is well recalled in the military histories of the two peoples for idealy two reasons. First, the astonishing bravery and valor that the two belligerents ,commanded by two Kings, exuded. Secondly, the circumstances that led to the death of the Nyoro Commander Nsembuka ya Kwezi.

Clearly outwitted and discomfited by Nyoro spear- men, as the historian Mrs. Fisher in her book Twilight tales of Black Baganda: The Traditional History of Bunyoro- Kitara, narrates as- rather authoritatively, does K. W, the brave Ganda King appealed to the spirit Kibuuka that answered his call and, fighting from the clouds- ebicu, struck dead the equally brave Nyoro General Nsembuka ya Kwezi.

The battle was so ferocious that Nakibinge was slain by Olimi I Rwitamahanga and the brave Ganda forces defeated. —Kihumuro- Apuuli:  A thousand years of Bunyoro- Kitara Kingdom, Fountain Publishers Kampala 1994 p.40—-John William Nyakatuura: The Anatomy of An African Kingdom, 1994 p.89- 90.

The official Ganda website reports of the incident thus: ‘Nakibinge called Kibuuka Kyobe Omumbaale from the Ssese Island to come and rescue the Kingdom of Buganda during the wars with Bunyoro Kingdom. They fought and won the war but were both killed during the battle. Kibuuka was killed first when they (the Banyoro) discovered his tactics of fighting and then Nakibinge was killed towards the end of the war. http://www.buganda.or.ug/index.php/ssekabaka-nakibinge

Though some Ganda so claim as above viz that Nakibinge’s army won despite dangerously acknowledging, as above, that he was slain as was Kibuuka just like Nsembuka ya Kwezi in the Nyoro ranks, this cannot have been the case for two reasons: First, Nakibinge’s death which they do not deny, and; Secondly, the fact that after the battle Bunyoro retained the two counties which had led the two Kingdoms to War in the first place.

But be that as it may, the crowning effect of this battle, as hinted upon earlier, was Nannono’s keeping guard, by way of occupation, of the throne Nnamulondo for one full year- a fitting tribute to the esteemed positions women held in that society! Could a women really have been honoured more than this in such a feudalistic society?

Omukama Mashamba Ga Winyi Omubiitokati

When Omukama Chwa I Rumomamahanga ascended the throne Nyamyaro succeeding his father Nyarwa Omuzaarakyaaro, his one desire was to expand his Empire by reclaiming the size superintended over by the Bachwezi. He thus consequently took war to Omugabe Ntare Kiitabanyoro of Nkore (the circumstances under which he attained this title can be explained at behest) and defeated him at the battle of Rulembo and thus subsequently established his capital at Kakunyu in Nkore. He thereafter visited the same war to Rwanda with identical motives and intents. He however rested in Rwanda.

When this news reached Bunyoro, the charismatic Princess Mashamba Omubiitokati, Batebe or Omukama Chwa’s Princess Royal was put on the Nyoro throne and reined for four solid years! Once more, we shall ask ourselves: Could a women really have been honoured more than this in such a feudalistic society?

Given that briefly related indisputable historical incidents and facts, Abwooli, it naturally follows that these terrorists have no more arrows left in their quivers, and who can blame them?

Nyoro, Ganda, Tooro, Kiga societies or the classical African society not only respected and loved, but also honoured a women as a whole more -perhaps, than any other society in the world.

Those circumstances that tended to degrade and dehumanize the woman were singular and isolated and should not be used, as these terrorists do, as a standard meter to measure and cast scorn and vile upon our unique and immeasurably rich norms, ways and traditions.

Thus, as we suckled at the same breast, if you asked me that, as does my Facebook friend David Mukasa, why can’t princesses like Katrina Ssangalyambogo of Buganda or Princess Nkwanzi of Bunyoro ascend the thrones of their fathers, I will argue it is a matter of their father’s choice- and choice cannot be forced.

Thus in the case that their brothers Rukidi and Ssemakookiro succeded their the thrones of their fathers, it would be more out of the wise judgments of their fathers than any hard and fast societal norm. This thesis finds authority in the above- related anecdote of the two illustrious women -Nannono and Mashamba Omubiitokati.

Be it also known that these events happened way before the white man touched, with his enlightening civilization and religions, upon these sacred parts of the earth!

Hangiriza Rukirabasaija! Hangiriza Ikingura! Hangiriza Nkyanungi! Hangiriza Ekituule ekinobere abeemi; ntale y’Bunyoro! Muliisa Nfuuzi! Muliira haiguru amagufa nigakunkumuka! Mbogo emu, bahiigi Magana! Hangiriza Kabumba! Hangiriza Agutamba!

Nda^sigara Omunyoro waawe Kyomuhendo Rwa Rwetuma; Rwetuma Rwa Kabyanga; Kabyanga Rwa Kabyanga; Kabyanga Rwa Bahemuka; Bahemuka Rwa Kagoro; Kagoro Rwa Kakyomya- Omusambu. Rwa Kugonza Omubiitokati; Kugonza Rwa Bulemu; Bulemu Rwa Mwirumubi; Mwirumubi Rwa Chwa II Kabaleega!

Why he named the young prince as he did, for Richard is his name, we may never fathom. But Abwooli, didn’t the old sage of our village Eriabu Irabahake son of Aminon Jack sternly warn us together as we were seated beneath the other old bark tree against questioning and attempting interpretations at the deeds and ways of Kings before he descended, just like his forefathers before him, to the land where men gait not with legs but their backs as the boats on the Mwitanzige?

The mother, Rujumba, the mother is grandchild of Mugalula- clan head of the Nsenene (Grasshopper) Clan sitting at Ggomba and according to the customs, rites and traditions evolved and founded by these people- spanning well over four solid centuries of unbroken practice, a King belongs to the mother’s clan. Thus in case he assumes the throne of Buganda Nnamulondo, which he most possibly shall, Prince Richard Semakokiro will be deemed by the same traditions as belonging to the Nsenene Clan.

Just as the foundations of the Nsenene clan are steeped in deep controversy and contest, too is the birth of the Prince Ssemakookiro. It is told by legend that Buyonga’s daughter Wannyana was exceptionally beautiful and this earned her a privilege to mingle with royals of different kingdoms. She was a descendant of the Batoro of Mugamba hill, Busongora in Toro. Her father Buyonga was son of Kiroboozi who the same legend insists was the grandfather of the Nsenene Clan.

It is said, but some contest this account, that the king of Bunyoro Winyi one time while on state duties saw Wannyana in Kisozi and admired her so much. He married her and took her to Kiburara. This is how she came to meet the Muganda prince, Kalemeera who had been banished in Bunyoro by his own father, Kabaka Chwa Nabakka. Kalemeera and Wannyana had a secret love affair and later a son called Kimera who later assumed his grandfather’s throne in Buganda as Kabaka was begotten.

Meanwhile it is claimed and disputed in equal measure- depending on which side of the narrative one finds himself glued upon, that King Winyi’s wife Muhumuza, whom he left in Kisozi, Ggomba, the ancestral home of Wannyana and then part of the vast Bunyoro- Kitara territory, to manage and govern it, got involved with Buyonga in a love affair and actually had a son with him known as Mugalula. This is the fabled Mugalula alluded to earlier-, Clan head of the Nsenene and Grandfather of Prince Ssemakookiro whose prospects of ascending the Ganda throne are as dizzying as the controversy surrounding his birth.

This birth, which must ordinarily be cause for rapturous festivities, deity- thanking and beer gulping in the whole of greater Buganda, it has come to my urgent attention and concern, has in the alternative, and rather ironically, afforded some folks that cruise and navigate upon most of the social media seas the choice of following a rather perilous and pirate- strewn path of so liberally taking it upon themselves to denigrate and desecrate the Great Lion’s name- Kabaka Muwenda- Mutebi II of Buganda!

So much has this been the case and so much has the debate in fact bordered on the hot and the obscene that even some ultra- Ganda loyalists who, when circumstances so demanded, and in the most animating poetry, used to so heroically proclaim in praise and boast, thus: Alik-kanyugira Omuliro Ndigugaaya. Alik-kabya amaziga, Ndimukaabya Musaayi, have been lured to participate in the summary public execution of their King! Some have in fact gone as far as arrogating themselves the exclusive privilege, privilege we indeed shall call it, of spitefully debasing and making comedy of his Majesty’s character, reason, judgment and person.

Rujumba, I most vehemently disagree with them and their blinding ignorance that guides them to so condescendingly presuppose, as they do, for several reasons: Foremost, these rather impolite friends of mine cite Christianity, but most particularly the Anglican brand of it, as the basis upon which they stand in spiteful, ignorant and biased judgment of the person, character, reason and stature of the King, Hail he!.

These faithfuls claim that since Kabaka is Anglican, he is by of right expected to heed to the all- important Anglican virtue of Monogamy just as he is bound to worship but one Lord and God under the promptings of the doctrine of Monotheism- one upon which the whole Christianity belief rests. Thus, they reason, that since the Kabaka wed, under the grandiose glare of the cameras of journalists and the eyes of subjects, Maama Nnabagereka Lady Sylvia Nagginda Luswata at St. Paul’s Cathedral, Namirembe in 1999, siring a child as he has out of the hypothetical christian wedlock is as illegal as, supposedly, Prince Ssemakookiro himself!

Abwooli, this cannot at any moment be allowed to stand either by history or reason the same way the wheels of time and history, crushing and turning as they did, destroyed the lonely decision of an English judge in the East Afrikan case of Rex v. Amkeyo, and lo!, as Jesus said,’ Forgive them for they do not know what they say!’

Lest they mislead and attempt to be ‘more catholic than the pope’ or ‘more anglican than the Archbishop of Cantebury’, these faithfuls should fast be guided about the very foundations of the Anglican church that they incumbently cite for a major a pedestal upon which they fly hot and unkindly rhetoric of desecration and denigration to the person, reason and judgment of King Mutebi.

The year was 1534 when as a result of the most dire need to provide a male heir to the English throne, as is in these circumstances to the Buganda throne, the Church of England or the Anglican or Protestant faith as we know it today and as is being used to revile Kabaka Mutebi and Prince Ssemakookiro, was born. It was King Henry VIII that caused the separation of the Church of England from the Roman Catholic Church and thus the papal authority at Rome.

Because he believed a daughter, Mary and of whom he was in fact most fond, would be unable to consolidate the Tudor Dynasty, King Harry, as those who knew him intimately called him, sought to, during the lifetime of Catherine of Aregon, his legally wedded wife or Queen, look elsewhere for an heir.

Thus in 1525, as Henry grew more impatient, he became enamoured of a charismatic young woman in the Queen’s entourage, Anne Boleyn. Anne at first resisted his attempts to seduce her, and refused to become his mistress, as her sister Mary Boleyn had. This refusal made Henry even more attracted, and he pursued her relentlessly. Eventually, Anne consented only on grounds that Harry makes her acknowledged queen. It soon became the King’s absorbing desire to annul his marriage to Catherine.

Thus Harry appealed directly to the Holy See or Pope Clement VII, through his secretary, William Knight suing for annulment. The grounds were that the bull of Pope Julius II- granting him permission to marry his brother’s wife Catherine, was obtained by false pretences, because -Catherine’s brief marriage to the sickly Arthur had been consummated.

Henry further petitioned, in the event that the desperately sought annulment is granted, a dispensation to marry again, any woman even in the first degree of affinity, whether the affinity was contracted by lawful or unlawful connection. However, this the Church at Rome, rigid and conservative as it usually is, did not accede to the grant of this request. Henry became even more dangerously impatient with Catherine’s inability to extend the male bloodline of the House of Tudor, as, which I shall not allow anyone to force me to say publically- not even at any price, could most possibly have been King Mutebi’s impatience with Maama Nabagereka Lady Sylvia Nagginda Luswata.

Though Henry never formally and instantly repudiated the doctrines of the Catholic Church as they stood, and am telling you currently stand, when he was denied his most desired wish viz his marriage to Lady Anne, he declared himself supreme head of the church in England in 1534. This, combined with subsequent actions, eventually provided expert midwifery services and attention to the historic birth of a splinter church, that Of England sometimes identified as Anglican or Protestant. Protestant because it was the lone child of Protest, Rebellion and/or Disobedience and Insubordination!

Given these indisputably accurate and well- documented historical facts, and with the greatest possible respect and deference to the emotions of those of the Maama Nabagereka loyalists tenanted on this high spiritual edifice, spitting, spreading and spilling most disparaging and unworthy sedition against the Kabaka’s person as they do, for the birth of Prince Richard Ssemakookiro (Blessed be he) of the Nsenene Clan outside the matrimonial wedlock with the astoundingly comely and gentle Queen, it ultimately follows they, like the Neandertathals of antiquity, and recalling Rubashov, have no more moral authority and right to so allege as they do than the latter ‘legislating for the Ape man’.

Kabaka Ronald Fredrick Muwenda- Mutebi II and Prince Richard Semakokiro

Secondly, Rujumba, it is also incumbent upon those that wish to find the golden gates of heaven specially opened for them in reward for the truth they told, upheld and sought while on earth to closely peer at the maternal parentage of King Mutebi himself, Oggundeggunde ayi Beene, Nyanja Temanyiirwa. Records faultlessly show that the skin of King was born on 13th April 1955 at Mulago hospital to Ssekabaka Muteesa II and Sarah Kisosonkole of the Nkima clan (In Bunyoro- Tooro, we call them Abahinda).

It should be noted that Ssekabaka H. E Sir Fredrick Edward Muteesa, who features prominently in the immediate post- independence politics of Uganda, being the First President as he was, was an avowed Anglican whose grandfather is credited by historians and prelates alike for having invited the bright torch of this most civilized faith, of civilized peoples, to shine and demistify the barbarism and darkness of the native peoples, Ugandans they were later to become.

Ssekabaka Sir Edward Muteesa II, father to Mutebi, was officially married to Nabagereka Lady Damalie Kisosonkole who passed on recently (May God grant her Queit Rest). However, it was not Queen Damalie that begot the current King but rather her Sister Sarah Kisosonkole! Thus, Abwooli, if we were to siphon, which we shall not, this wrong thesis so wildly propagated by the chief desecrators of the Great Lion’s mighty image, then the latter would be, in classic 17th century countryside and legal English parlance, ‘illegitimate’, ‘sired out of wedlock’, ‘bastard’ and not deserving to ascend to the great Nnamulondo of the ages as is the handsome Prince Ssemakookiro of the Nsenene.

Now, Abwooli, none of the most virulent and acidic critics of the circumstances preceding the birth of Prince Ssemakookiro and the subsequent name- labeling of Magulunnyondo (May he live long), is on record as ever having disputed Muwenda- Mutebi’s claim to kingship simply because he was mothered by Sarah and not Damalie, her Queen- Auntie!  I can see them go silent. Hold them Abwooli, let them not run…. Where are they? Abwooli, have you seen the path the Kabaka’s desecrators have taken? But they have been here just moments back…Baleke, let them be son of my mother, for the proverb Agoba Musajjamunne may be unilaterally invoked with the attendant consequences.

Further, I have again heard pockets of the same folks allege that they ‘no longer reserve any semblance of respect for the Kabaka’ because apparently ‘atuswazzizza’ (he has beshamed us) ‘okwegadanga n‘Akazaana akataasoma’ (by swapping privates with an unschooled or unlettered consort or servant), nti era Mutebi owed everything to Maama Nabagereka because ‘she abandoned a prospectively very bright corporate career in the U.S’ to come to Uganda and marry ‘Mutebi’ (yes! They even have the effrontery to call him by his name!), only for him, ‘as are all men’ to be so ungrateful as to openly and unapologetiaclly cheat on and disgrace her. Moreover, with Akataasoma!

I find this line of thought, first as a humanist, secondly as Afrikan and finally as adherent well initiated in the ceremonies of human equality- ugly, unappealing, repulsive and repelling. Abwooli, with the greatest possible respect the comely Queen, she is no better a woman than the other kazzaana (maid- servant) akataasoma- . the one they (the ungrateful disecrators), had they had the liberty to, would also understand as stinking.

This analysis is most regrettable and heart- tearing. Just as this country’s most distinguished musician of all time- Prince Paulo Job Kafeero put it in the epic song Esaawa y’okuzaawa, men are born naked and crying, they are buried naked and crying (…Ensi Bwetujiyingirira mubiwoobe, mwetujinnyukira mu biwoobe).

The song touches upon the theme of death and not so markedly the theme of equality. But we shall currently borrow his thesis to substantiate a vital equality point viz just as all men are born naked and crying with none born robed, we are all thus equal and equally deserving of all life’s opportunities and giftings. So just as Maama Nnabagereka can have the choice of putting herself at the emotional and physical avail of a King, so does Akazaana Akataasoma Rose Nansikombi.

Finally, there are these moralists that claim that the Kabaka being (or expected to be the paragon of good character and virtues), even be it as it was in the search of an heir agreeable to custom, or be whatever as it may, ought not to have condescended so low as to procreate outside his marriage moreover going as far, they authoritatively assert and insist, snatching  another man’s woman(muk’omusajja) to achieve the purpose.

I also strongly feel and think that this charge cannot, guided by reason and commonsense, be sustained.

My own opinion, Abwooli, is that procreation is the greatest form and highest expression of morality for it helps preserve a race. There can never be any morality in a vacuum. For it to exist, there must be a people to express it and give it perspective. Thus where such a people are absent, partly because of some warped and corrosive social or religious constraints, a morality is doomed and such word as it is- ‘morality’ and the practice thereof, ceases to exist.

For those reasons, I most warmly congratulate the Kabaka of Buganda Ronald Fredrick Muwenda Mutebi II, upon expanding the house of Kato- Kimera; the Bazzukulu ba Mugalula ab’Nseenene for owning a future King and Omuzaana Rose Nansikombi for making these my most honest congratulatory remarks useful and meaningful. Oggundendeggunde ayi Ssabasajja: Magulunnyondo; Beene; Chuucu; Muzzukulu w’Muteesa, Sebuufu bwango; Nyanja Temanyiirya.

I must add, Abwooli, that Prince Ssemakookiro looks as serene and delightful as a Rose, Rose being Nansikombi’s name and Nansikombi being the name of Rose!

Kanve wano tebankuba eccupa omanyi bakambwe….

Eby’omukoro ogwo ogunyakubaire gw’ekitinisa muno kandi gwiina ekigendeerwa eky’okugaara buhyaka emiringo rundi tubweete oburomborombo obw’ediini yaitu ey’obusiraamu ahamu n’ engeso zaitu nk’abanyoro bikangwiibwa omumatu ogu nyokwenkuru Akiiki omugonzebwa Omufumambogo.

Emambya ekaba nekyasara eti pa-pa-p, obwo ensi nekyarumu obutiti ekiro kyakatanu ebirobyokweezi 9 ebyokwomwenda, 2011- abasiraamu bagyeeta Juma’a, mwenewaanyu kandi mukuruwaawe Isaaka Kugonza rw’ombule Isentoicwe enganzi muno omusomesa Kirungi Sulaiman, obu naaraba aha rukomo rw’endeetabigambo yange (mungambo yabirobinu niyo esimu) na’bindetera nk’okubyakabaire ebigambo.

Ngu, nkulengaho kumanyisa ebigambo, Isentoicwe omubazi w’ebitabu omurongo Amooti Isingoma na’manyisa okuraba omuliwe ngu halibayo omukoro, owe hali Kikwananana, og’wokutaaha enju ahamu n’okusiima Nkya- Nyamuhanga, ogu atakohya okusobozesa mukaikuruwe, kandi nanyowe owange Kahunde, kuhikya omwaka gumu omunsi enu.

Ngu abairege nanyeta?, Tindakubiihe ngu manyire. Ngu abairege n’amanyisabumanyisa? Mananukwo. Baitu egyo teriniyo engiga ekukirayo obukuru ahabwaaki nkuhandiikiire, omusambu Abwooli, omwitumbi linu. Omunyongooro nk’okugwahikire haiziba batakimanye abo boona nk’okubwabaire buzaale bwaabu okurahuka. Omunyongooro gukahika!

Nanyowe ninkusaba n’obubundaazi bwamaani muno ngu onyeikirize ngeende mpora orundi nanyowe ndihika aha ngiga endeteire kuhandiikira. Baitu okubanza kwabyoona, kambanze njune akatahyo kanu akatwekerwe, nk’omwisiki omuhara, kyokora ganu maize ebyo ebinyakukabamu- tugambirege amaizi. Eiroho libaire lyanyita…

Not a while so long a time ago upon these very Zuckerberg lands, I heralded to frontmost message of affliction befallen of which was one of art’s tenderly own- Moses Kigambo-Araali.

Araali was born only 34- years ago in Nyakabura village, Kabarole District, Western Uganda. He is son of Kijuma and proud grandson to Erinadi Kaahwa of the Mwenge branch of the Basiita Clan. It is said- and solemnly affirming the elders that watched calf grow into bull do, that he began exploring his voice’s staggeringly rich goldfields at only age thirteen! – that even the astrologists he tended consult told him that fame, power, influence and fortune were within his stars!

Astrology often presents its own miracles and debacles, its own temptations and and wonderments that only the initiated- in- faith can bravely withstand without lingering in their minds thoughts of ever crossing the Creed Bridge! That audacious prophesy about a young boy’s fate was to so amazingly unfurl as clearly and coherently as it was in the beginning said.

Thus Kigambo by the year 2009 had become a household name as well as a powerful crowd- magnet not only attracting those in his homeland Tooro- Rwenzori region, but also not offensively smelling for those within and not without the original boundaries of the once illustrious Empire of Bunyoro- Kitara.

From the Mwitanzige to the Rweru, from the Lands up North to Mountains rolling down South, –these songs have been commonplace even on Sound Solo Radios of the old: Ekirale, Eitaka http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tqTGwnTXCx4&feature=related , Akairima zigi zigi, Otalyebwa Omuka  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qe0AFls63vM&NR=1  or Kyamanywaga oha  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qe0AFls63vM&NR=1 ….

 In fact, such was the brand of fame that providence flung and thrust upon Araali that he even went as far as scooping the coveted KISMA International Award in Kenya in 2008 and the Rotary International Vocation Award for 2008 not to unpardonably forget the tens of local awards that he grabbed back and forth, to and fro as if he were a glutton.

The Music and Message

In his regal and patient baritone, Kigambo effectively employs traditional vocal weaponry and stratagems whilst pulling off his many musical coups. His message is astoundingly powerful and colorful. His delivery of it is as wonderful and mathematical. His lyrics, though not long, are rich and captivating.

In his first major work Ekirale http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XiILP1_2U4U , Kigambo passionately rallies all of his tribesfolk- whom he endearingly praise- names as Ndayange, to rudely shun the corrupt and deceitful and concentrate instead on constructing and leaving behind only glittering legacies. For Political leaders, Ekirale is a loud call to conscience.

In the song he also wonders whence went the pride and prominence of his most beloved Tooro Kingdom.He’s nostalgic about the Galihuma age when the Kingdom province of Galihuma was a learning hub of Greater Bunyoro Kitara and a notable one in the whole intellacustrine. He deeply reminisces about the lofty feats and glorious maneuvers of his forefathers and urgently calls for cultural revival.

Toil and Tears 

All this glitz and grandeur was however  brought to an abrupt halt when, after performing in his native Kabarole two years ago, he was brutally besieged and attacked by ‘thugs’ for reasons unbeknown but only to them. He has been in hospital since 2009 and is now sadly confined to a wheel chair. Once a boisterous performer on and off stage, the sight of a thin, weak and hapless Araali in that chair is greatly unnerving.

Resulting from the attacks, the ailment began as a mild malaria attack that saw him admitted to Fort Portal Regional Referral Hospital and later Mulago. There, a series of expensive tests showed that he suffered a lumbar puncture that in consequence led to paraplegia- a tomblike spinal cord injury.

At Mulago in December 2010, he was told that the situation was dire and needed an urgent operation to the tunes of 70M UGX which he never had due to the long financially exhausting stay at Fort Portal Hospital.

In the mean time Kigambo, even when confined to a bed rest, continues to perform but in the wheel chair. This is against the doctor’s clear prescriptions for rest but he says he has nothing to do as he has to use his voice to try and raise funds for his treatment. Says he: ‘I am still rolling in my wheel chair looking for support in schools and churches around. I need more than 70M for the operation’. But clearly, he cannot raise 70M from this wheelchair even if he wished.

His wife, Lucy Komukyeya dresses, bathes and takes him to the toilet daily. ‘This has affected my ego as a man and a singer because am the bread- earner with four children. The first born is a girl in Senior Two. They need food and school fees’, so bewails Kigambo.

Helping Hands

A bank account has specifically been opened up for this purpose for those that may be willing to heed humanity’s call and help Moses Kigambo- Araali at Post Bank Uganda, Fort Portal Branch, Account No. 1330800000187 in the names of Kigambo, Pochi and Kaibu. Mobile Money can be sent to MTN +256 781 256 467 and UTL +256 718 746 186.

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Blessed are they that give…

Araali looking and singing sorrow to raise his operation charges....

Brothers and Sisters from the Press, We are both taken aback and pained by the brutal determination and commitment that the Gen Museveni Government -through its fearful security apparati, is recklessly showcasing in its quest of curtailing the civil liberties of Ugandans.

We are concerned also and equally puzzled about the ‘bomb- the- mosquito’ approach that the Uganda Police- an entity whose founding fathers envisioned would protect, guard and guide both public order and the rights of the citizenry,  has favored in its latest engagements with unarmed freedom- calling civilians. Adorning themselves in sad war- gear and carrying with them sophisticated war implements, we squarely reject and spit upon the disgraceful manner in which our leaders have been arrested, charged and shot at.

It was German Cleric Pr. Martin Niemoller who penned these historical lines in his First They Came Poem:  First they came for the communists/and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a communist./Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a trade unionist. /Then they came for the Jews,/ and I didn’t speak out because I wasn’t a Jew./Then they came for me
and there was no one left to speak out for me.  It is in such a spirit that we’ve taken it upon ourselves to speak aloud for those that fear their voices would be brutally muzzled if they dare spoke. We know the risks involved.

The recent actions by the Mr. Museveni  Administration starkly run counter to Uganda’s  obligations under the various international covenants like; The Universal Declaration of Human Rights and The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights not to gesture towards Chapter IV of  the 1995 Constitution of this good Republic that guarantee everyone the right to peaceful assembly and demonstrations.  We therefore call upon the government to reclaim its humanity and respect these inherent and fundamental rights of all its citizens.

We call also upon Gen Museveni to immediately order his security outfits to stop using unjustified lethal force against protesters. He should in the alternative work to restore public confidence in the security services and to ensure that the security force’s responses are strictly proportionate to the threats they face in any given situation.

Finally, we wish Dr. Kizza- Besigye and those that were hurt in this face- off quickest recovery. Sympathies also, to the bereaved that may have lost dear ones in the scuffle.

We have been so much hesitant and patient in joining the ensuing debacle. But, we warn that we are going to call thousands of students to the streets if the situation remains as alarming as it is.

For God and My Country.

Kyomuhendo- A. Ateenyi

Chairman Forum for Democratic Change FDC/ IPC – Makerere University.

To Hoima

Tempted on by the unforgettable words of the American Civil War veteran, Political Leader, and Orator during the Golden Age of Freethought- Robert G. Ingersoll, that; ‘He loves his country best who strives to make it best.’, I willingly accepted Najjanankumbi’s assignment to lead a delegation, 50- strong, to the oil- drenched clays and loams of my birth- Bunyoro, successor a kingdom to the Glorious Bunyoro- Kitara Empire that once was.

Journeys to even a single foot of Bunyoro soil have always inspired the finest and most altruistic of human emotions from the Millet Gatherer’s Son ever since he was milk- teethed. Thus he felt no different even this time round. In fact, he felt way far happier now that in addition to the trappings of exploration and adventure, he was participant in the furtherance of  an ideal, – a democratic society properly so- called, that he so desperately cherishes.

If I may say, I never measured equal to that task if taken by all its specifics. Why? Due to irritating Network hitches of almost all the Telecommunication Giants- MTN, UTL, Warid and Zain on the 1st of March 2011 around Makerere University, I only managed to mobilize a company of 19 students instead of the ‘contract’ 50. Destination: Hoima. Assignment: Polling agents of Mr. Atugonza Francis, mayoral candidate for the Hoima Municipality seat. Voting Date: 2nd March 2011. Having taken the last Bus- one such of Link Courier services, we reached Hoima a few minutes to mid- night.

With me were: Mr. Kigongo Ayub, Mr. JP Rubagumya, Mr. Wabulembo Robinson, Mr. Kalegga Michael, Mr. Okumu- Magara Steven, Mr. Kwezi Godfrey, Mr. Mutumba Michael, Mr. Besigye Bright, Mr. Musika Nicholas, Mr. Tamale Bashir, Mr. Kimuli Ibrahim, Mr. Wamanga Enock, Mr. Pakoyo Abdul- Latif, Mr. Kaddu Henry, Mr. Ategeka Moses, Mr. Tumusiime Deo, Mr. Lubega Rashid and Mr. Mutunzi David.

Fro Hoima

How the whole electoral process was handled, conducted and concluded is not the reason as to why I am writing. But if am just persuaded to throw a hint, then I would say that it was unsurprisingly no different from its sham predecessors. We left Hoima at about 12pm by LINK Bus registration number UAM 370L that was being driven by a one Mr. Musa. Tyre to Tarmac, the journey was on the broad smooth except for a few isolated incidents where ‘youthhood- madness’ got the better of my colleagues’ heads as they started competively chanting their Hall loyalty in slogans like: ‘Eh Lumumba Oyee!’ ‘Eh Lumumba Oyee!’ ‘Eh Mitchell Oyee!’ ‘Eh Mitchell Zee!’ ‘Eh Box Oyee….!

But as we were snaking through the outskirts of Wakiso District the Link way- just by a rusty signpost reading JESA Dairy Farm, we were all of a sudden intercepted by a heavily manned Road- Block of both Police and the Army. The latter’s green camouflage bore the initials ‘ES’ shoulder- high. The Bus was flagged to stop… A huge silence…Recitations of Swahili Poetry…Fear now etched deep down in the marrow…Whispers and sign language….More Swahili Poetry served…This time raw….In enters three Police Constables…Armed to the teeth…not smiling…looking like death itself…Musa ordered to roll wheels…A further few kilometers….Now at Kakiri….Corner negotiated….Prof. Gilbert Balibaseka Bukenya Poster…all yellow….heavy army presence on both sides of the road…a meter apart of one another…And this now is Kakiri Police Station!

Soldiers take cover…Fighting positions…Guns cock…Brows cringe…about 80 by the count…Swahili Poetry…Road to Station cordoned off….‘Come down’ ‘Come down’ ‘From here to there, all of you come down’ ‘Come Downnnnn’…. Superintendent Kalule his name is- ‘We know you are 20…where is the 20th?’…‘Kaa Chini’…‘Hand over your phones…’ ‘What do you call yourselves?!’…Car comes…UG xxxxC…‘So these are the ones’…Camera’s flash…Flash and Flash…!

Bags combed…Literature taken…which literature?…Campaign posters… Mr. Atugonza Francis… Mr. Baguma Patrick Jolly…Letters of appointment as Polling agents…FDC/IPC Change is coming T. Shirts…19…3 Blue Vuvuzelas…confiscated…‘Criminals…Criminals…Criminals…Sit Down…Sit Down…’…Boot in ribs…shrill groan…shrill cry…Aghhh…Details taken…Like Factory Sardines, packed into a stinking corridor…darkness…darkness…Bags returned…Photos again taken…Individually… ‘One Man. One T. Shirt’… ‘Ingia Ndani….Muyingiye Ndani…Haraka…’

Police Truck waiting… All of us…19….enter…Soldiers…enter…18 in Truck…16 with Kalashnikov assault rifles…What happened to smiling…A penal crime?…Kalashnikov Freedom…2 with Sub- Machine Guns…Two cars in front…Siren blaring…Superintendant Kalule…Two behind….Towards Kampala…!

Ride of Fame

The Truck moved at breakneck speed as though there was a dying inside it. It is interesting how this convoy of vehicles moved at such bullet- speed without ramming into one another. Sirens were still busy talking. The dark- skinned soldier by our truck’s exit did the ridiculous. Slowly, steadily and confidently, he started unscrewing the chamber within which was a meticulously arranged chain of bullets.

Seated next to him was Mutunzi. Now, Mutunzi proved to be the most fearful of our lot. At the sight (the dark- skinned soldier exhibition), he was overwhelmed by fear. I guess those near him must have all of a sudden felt a warm substance wet them. This same fear guided him to solace in his palms which he used to hide his head and face in a fashion of a mother grieving her lone child! The enthusiastic exhibitioner could not control his laughter!!

We attracted attention wherever we passed. As we reached Mulago Round about the convoy took a sharp turn and moved towards Yusuf Lule Rd. Most of us thought we were being led straight to CMI…the dreaded Uganda Chieftaincy of Military Intelligence! Every one of us looked in Mutunzi’s direction. Peal after peal of laughter helped us lighten the moment.

But our whole Bodyguard was not yet content. They warned us of the consequences of uttering a word, let alone laughing! We religiously obliged- as though we were criminals. You see, it was in the heat of this moment that I first realized that just as a soldier takes a superior’s order devotedly even in utter disregard and rejection of commonsense, so he expects to be obliged by the civilian. He also has a turn to receive what he gives. Now this was one such a time.

Central Police Station (CPS)

We reached CPS at around or about 6pm. Under strict instructions, we were told to disembark off the truck one by one—just that—one by one. So we obligingly did. We were then ordered to sit in a certain pattern along the many stairs that lead to the station reception. All this time we were being guarded like Gold- fat Port- laden trucks from a Katanga Gold mine! All one could see was Green camouflage and Blue Camouflage. As members of the Press started trickling in, we were shifted to what the ‘bay’: The Backyard. We were ordered to pair up—PRA suspect style! There was even an attempt on the side of police to improvise for lack of handcuffs with orders that we fasten our shirts- ends together and notch them in a way old women notch their over- flowing gomesis! I outrightly rejected this. They surprisingly complied.

We were ordered to sit in rows of five- Quiet as satisfied tombs! We were denied even the ‘luxury’ of leaning against the dirty wall! ‘You’ll do that in your homes. Not here. You are criminals!’- So roared Hajuso, the notorious light skinned Constable. He was carrying along with him three black V’s. In the army he would be a Sergeant. He furiously shouted: ‘Wee Mchunge Saana….Tutakata M****o zeenyu’ loosely translated to mean that we should stand warned lest, like bulls, we suffer the indignity of our manhood(s) getting castrated!

Then came a 3- diamond studded officer on whose left breast was inscribed the name Chemusto. In the army he would be a Captain. He warned us against ‘whatever was up our sleeves’. That we were inconsequential, that we cannot fight ‘government’. At this I consulted my inner colleague who pondered: ‘If truly he says we are inconsequential, then why all this hullabaloo? Why all this Military presence? Why all this parade of force? Why all these insults? Why? Why? Why?!’ He never heard this.

All my short activism life I have grown up to believe that the Institution of Police is a brutal and repressive one only dotted by humans as cruel and barbaric. But this amiable gentleman whose name I did not get impressed me a lot and sowed seeds of belief in me that be the status quo as it may, there are some individuals left in it that are still possessed of their humanity. Despite the fact that there still are the Hajusos, the Chemustos and Aruhos, there are also the Karungis and this Gentleman who still honor their uniform, who still honor the oath they took protect and serve the people of Uganda- whether professing the ‘right’ political creed or the ‘wrong’ one!

Release

CID officers came by and took statements from us in which we detailed our ordeal. They too, like the Karungis (refer to my first arrest) and the other Gentleman, were possessed of such magnetic personalities. In their midst were not criminals, thugs or anarchists but brothers, sons, kinsmen and In- laws. Immediately after this exercise was concluded, we started seeing humanity return to even faces of people like Hajuso.

I think they had realized that we were just harmless stubborn students totally unconnected to what our brothers in the State love to so often christen as Anarchists. Just because we were professing a wrong political religion. The religion of change whose High Priest, a Medical Doctor by calling, was contentedly smiling on the sky- blue T. Shirts that had been earlier on in the day classified in the category of  ‘Loot- of- War’.

At about 7pm, our phones were released. Our T-shirts returned along with our Dignity. Our fears exorcised. Even Mutunzi’s. But most importantly, our freedom, so arbitrarily and highhandedly hijacked from us, returned. We walked to freedom at about 7:30pm.

And such was my (our) torment.

Postscript

I know, as well as my colleagues do, that all these hijackings are being staged with only one purpose in mind. According to the scrip- writers, they think in their mother of hearts that such experiences, if periodically staged and portrayed, shall intimidate some of us into wavering. At least that is their distinguishable purpose. They think that by exposing us to Tank, Barrel and Boots, we shall mellow. But they are wrong- outrightly wrong! We shall not cease to project our voices. We shan’t. We just cannot!

It is not because we wish to live lives of fugitives. No, we too love the niceties of luxury. But the whole problem is that thing called conscience. So dear! Prof. Justice G.W Kanyeihamba writes that ‘The loss of money is bad. The loss of time is worse. But the loss of name is such that no man can restore’. Some of us are not ready to lose our names. For he who fails to conquer fear shall in turn be conquered by fear along with all its attendant evils.