What Reconciliation?

Attaboy! What reconciliation? How can you reconcile with troublemakers? They must first apologize. That is to say, they must first lick my boots.

Are you having a vertigo yet? That was vintage Museveni in his raw elements as he supposedly refused to shake hands with one of his perennial nemeses, Mr. Otunnu. The story goes that the dubious Mao purportedly urged Otunnu to reconcile with Museveni. Otunnu is reported to have frantically tried to catch Museveni’s attention to no avail at the innauguration of an Anglican Church (also dubbed the Church of Uganda as if there is any state religion in Uganda) prince as bishop of Northern Uganda. Mr Museveni, to his credit, did not stoop to such groveling and, predictably, thumbed his nose at the ambassador.

It befuddles my mind when our supposed luminaries don’t think straight. What is there in the history of Museveni that is not crystal clear using simple inductive reasoning? Yet Mao has for years tried all kinds of somersaulting feats to coddle the man. If his effforts were not tragic to others at times ( as in Candide Lakony), one would leave Mao to his night dances with the devil. You don’t criticize Museveni and turn around and ask for reconciliation. The business of “we are all Christians” just muddles the water. The man takes things personally. Besides, even if he has whacked Acoli girls and boys militarily, he knows that some will never acknowledge or accept his oft-desired claims to superiority. This constantly gnaws at his every fibre—his essence. It must be hard for the poor man when he ventures into Acoliland. Even if he surrounds himself with 100,000 bodyguards, he will always feel insecure in these territories. It is a case of King Midas fearing his own shadows.

Here are my two cents: Forget the reconciliation mumbo jumbo. If desirable, that may only be possible after the man is gone. The fuzzy logic of fantasizing that may be—just may be—there is hope for sharing the high table with the man is for those living in la-la land.

In The Wise Heart, James Autry is quoted as saying: " If you think managing conflict and diversity are problematic, then you haven't thought through the problem of managing sameness. I'd would rather be faced with trying to achieve harmony and goodwill among people who are at one another's throats than try to squeeze
an ounce of innovation or creativity, or risk out of a group photocopies of each other."

In Museveni's Uganda photocopies are at a premium, and that is not the milieu that bodes well for enduring reconciliations. Disintegration is one solution. Continued dysfunctional confusion is another. Or we can just get along. Kumbaaya! Ugandans have to make hard-nosed choices. Doing nothing is also a choice.

-------Bonus Movie. The Moonstone is in the British tradition of "who-dunit." Very clever.

The Case Against the World Bank

Small me, Soko, has done my part. I reduced my carbon footprint. Mostly riding my bike instead of driving. The temperature in my house is just above cold. I recycle. So, I qualify to have my say about global warming. The claim that the developed countries had abused the environment in the 20th century is correct. But to say that the roaring developing countries, led by China, should be given leeway is hogwash. What about the technologies that came out of the 20th century exploits that are now available to all and sundry? This time I go along with whitie. What would Lao Tzu do? Let us do the right thing, Chinaman.
---------
Is the Cablanasian (Caucasian, Black, Asian) a coward? What is he hiding from? The Caucasian and Black in him will probably not help him much—the respective slyness and freakiness have already landed him in hot water. He probably now need to call on the wisdom of his Asian heritage. What would Lao Tzu do? What would Sun Tzu do? What would Kung Fu Tzu (Confucius) do? What about Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha?

The Viking woman is gone. She went to Babylon as a nanny, and is going home a multi-millionaire. Who says sex was cheap? The only ones who have it free are the rapists who rob it. If you think I am a kukuhead, wait until you lose your job that you are convinced defines you. Memshahib will walk. If not, she will create so much chaos in your head that big John will be paralyzed , or you might lose it and kick her bleeding ass/arse. Either way you lose—she now has all the legal reasons to walk away with your children, house, half of your retirement account, and the cat!
-----------
Plegding a united front against the sly NRM (a.k.a Museveni) is one thing (and a good one); keeping focused and working skillfully is another. It is better to be proactive than reactive. I learned that a long time ago when playing in the sand and having my khaki school uniform caked with mago juice. You go home bloodied, but you have gained respect from the bully dude.
Let him go to the bush and stay there forever and see if anybody cares.
---------
A few Baganda MPs, with balls, voted against the NRM Land Bill. Dubbed as indiscipline, the boss warned of reprisals. That is soooooooo 19th century politicking. Will the "wayward" MPs fold? If history is any leading indicator, Yes. Surprise me, brothas and sistas.
---------
Buturo is no longer foaming at his mouth condemning "sex against nature." What[]up? Is the anti-gay NRM-Anglican alliance unravelling? Mr. Museveni is no fool. He knows which side of his bread is buttered. He will test the water. If it is scalding hot, he will pour some cold water lest he burns his Munyankole rear end. The throne has his soul--he is not going to mess with it just because of some fanatic christians who are not going to cause any seismic change in voter count. What if the law nails an American or European gay diplomat who has to be hanged in Kampala? Just imagine.
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As promised , this is another must see film. Bamako is the case of Africa against the World Bank and other Western institutions. Politicians, educators, and students will have a lot to talk about. Pay attention to the imageries and the nuances. Enjoy!

Movie/Films to Die for: Soko's Classic Picks

You are tired of all the Amanda Knox stories. And you just shrugged off the news that Museveni rode economy on his way home. You are also bored by the Cablanasian, Tiger Woods' escapades of being pussy-whipped by white gals. Lucky for him his Viking wife didn't whack his head with a golf club. It is cold outside or it is unmercifully hot tropical December. What to do? Don't worry; Soko is here to help. I will from time to time pick up some Movie classics I have enjoyed. None of the trashy Hollywood, Bolywood, or Nollywood stuff. We are talking of well-crafted independent movies.

The bird's trapped in the body's cage
(Pakhita bonde ache)
The bird's trapped in the body's cage

It's feet bound by wordly chains
It tries to fly but fails
The bird's trapped in the body's cage
The bird's trapped in the body's cage

Rainbow colored birds
Circle freely in the sky
Their brilliant splendour
A rupture for the eye

The bird's trapped in the body's cage
The bird's trapped in the body's cage
It's feet bound by worldly chains
It's feet bound by wordly chains

The bird pines with longing
Yearns to spread its wings
It wants to join the joyful birds
Leaving its fleeting home

The bird's trapped in the body's cage
The bird's trapped in the body's cage
It's feet bound by worldly chains
It's feet bound by wordly chains

The clay bird laments:
Why did you infuse
My heart with longing,
If you didn't give my wings
The strength to fly?

The bird's trapped in the body's cage
The bird's trapped in the body's cage
Its feet bound by worldly chains.
------
This is a lyric to the movie The Clay Bird. Check this out!

















Also in the same genre are Guimba the Tyrant,

















A Man in Our House,

The Night of Truth

All are available in DVDs. Till next time, enjoy!

What is the Pomposity and Posturing All About?

I would ask the church men in their androgynous dresses and weird caps to tell me where their Jesus directly condemned homosexuality. Personally, I don’t understand how or why somebody is a queer. But then there are so many things in this world that I don’t understand. Do I have to walk on my head because these things are real to somebody?

At the bottom of the hullabaloo about homosexuality is the arrogant notion that man is the center of the universe against all logic. Not long ago the Christian Church insisted on the geocentric concept of the universe, and would hang anybody who disagreed. Thus Copernicus couldn’t publish his contrarian view until after his death for fear of being persecuted. It is now a scientific fact that the earth revolves around the sun, and not vice versa. So, if you still doubt evolution, then you are all wet.

In the complex evolution to consciousness man has been saddle with a myriads of challenges—the good and the bad. The genitals and their attendant emotional attractions were meant to perpetuate procreation. Thanks to the coded information in the genome that passes those instincts from one generation to the next. What if the random sequencing process of the four-bit nucleotides doesn’t go according to plan? Might it not be the reason why Johnny is attracted to Tommy, instead of to Mary? Why would it be of my concern when the two consenting adults fancy one another and do their thing in the privacy of their bedroom? I don’t question what the Bishop does to his wife. Moreover, the Bishops of my childhood world never sacked with anybody—at least officially!

Of all things evil—greed, obsession with power, uncontrolled anger, or distorted sense of self—,
homosexuality doesn’t come close to the destruction of society. The tale of Sodom is just some Jewish folklore. I would rather see the virile heterosexual MPs. and Bishops working on meaningful laws to curb life presidency or punish CHOGM cheats who sap the nation of its energy rather than wasting time on banalities.

Another One Bite the Dust

It was a sensational front-page story—the death of an NRM general, a killer machine whose raison d'être was to kill or be killed—moreover at the hands of a “mere” woman, a concubine at that, a spare tire.

My condolences to those who depended on him for their livelihoods and those who genuinely loved him and were loved by him. We all understand their grieve because we all have been there. But to see the pretenders shedding crocodile tears and the charlatans offering snake-oil expertise make me want to puke.

The man’s life was his uniform. Once his boss played his characteristic game against those who exhibit traces of independent trait, the redundancy had already killed him. He nursed himself with booze and the arms of women. Unfortunately for him he took his demon to a Northern woman. Northern women are known for their great passion. They will give you pleasure in bed the likes you have never known. The flip side, however, is that you mess with them at your own peril. And so when the Lugbara woman feared for her life—mind you, this is against a professional killer—she let it all out. When the rational brain is suspended and we employ the survival limbic system, the caveman comes out and the consequences can be devastating or heroic.

There was no conspiracy. The man died as he lived: Those who live by the sword die by the sword—we reap what we sow. That is the natural law of karma. And it does not help in any way when, in victory, we dehumanize the other. In the end we are all evolutionary biological substances that will be claimed by maggots, or face the holocaust at a funeral home, or get devoured by some wild animals.

The Third-Term Phenomenon in Babylon

So you thought that the morbidly ego-centric political animals existed only in the backward banana republics? Think again. Kumbe, Mayor Bloomberg thinks he is the only Jew alive with a vision for New York City. Surely, he did some good things in his nearly eight years as mayor of NYC, but is he indispensable? Apparently he thinks he is and some city councilors have given him the node—chief among them some black councilmen, a testament to how far we blacks see beyond our noses.

With the chorus for democracy ringing across the globe on the heels of the collapse of the Soviet Union and the dismantling of the Berlin Wall, rootless and radar-less Africans jumped on the bandwagon—but with twists and turns that only that dark continent can muster. Wily operators disrobed their military fatigues and donned western suits and ties. They got on ant-hills to campaign for elections—supposedly marking the ends of issuing edicts from presidential palaces. Some dudes were, effectively, the only candidate who got 90 percent of the votes! One even concocted some wacko umbrella no-party “democracy” based on individual merit. Wise men warned that the scheme was only a ruse to consolidate power. They were to be proved right in time. At the urging of his foreign sponsors he allowed multi-party democracy. He would, however, stick to them by changing the two-term constitutional mandate that envisaged curbing the madness of Africans in tasting power.

In the end even if we are put off by the stench of politics, we must still keep vigil the world over. We cannot be intimidated by Museveni’s tanks nor mayor Bloomberg’s great wealth. Out of the 28 million Ugandans there must be people who are capable of running the country as well, if not better than Museveni and his clique. And the same applies to the 8 million New Yorkers.

War Babies Have Come of Age

For five years as war raged in the Luweero Triangle and beyond, Ugandans spitted out babies by the millions. The National Resistance Army (NRA) won, bringing relative peace. Some people then “could sleep” and produce more babies. Twenty plus years later the War Baby Boomers have come of age, and the Chief Liberator of their parents has declared them (the WBB) his ninja warriors against the pernicious corruption that threatens the very foundation of Uganda society, if there was any such. Just what is this Uganda Society? May be that is where the struggle against corruption should begin.

Several decades ago a white headmaster in a prominent secondary school in Wakiso district asserted that Uganda was corrupted from top to bottom. Has anything changed for the better or worse? Many of his students are now prominently in the NRM government. Did he get through to them? Did he also tell them how to bring about a less corrupted society, or were they taught to just be good Catholic boys and follow the Pope? From the look of it the latter seems to be the case, and the same can be said of all the schools that have produced the crème de la crème of Uganda society. So, how are we going to change to a less corrupted society if those who should know better suffer quietly and only wallow in passive aggressive behaviors?

A society is made up of people. What are the transcending qualities that define a Ugandan man or woman? Some people say it is the smiles amidst hardships. Are the smiles genuinely reflecting happiness and joy, or are they cover-ups of inner turmoil? What about qualities such as fairness in everyday affairs, living-and-let-live, win-win, honor, sense of community, to name a few? What is the tell about the character of a nation whose legislators are given paltry 5,000,000/= (U Shillings) to vote for a constitution that is meant to benefit a man backed by tanks, and who has no qualm about using it against the citizens? How are the ninja auditors and accountants going to follow the audit trails in these kinds of shady transactions? Would accounting controls instituted by the ninjas have stopped Temangalo in its tracts? What about the Mulago incident where a whistle blower is hauled away to a mental asylum by the powers that be?

Mr. President, don’t pull wool over our eyes with your young NRM cadres. Nothing will change as someone pointed out. Even your current fad in teaching patriotism won’t make a dent in the insidious corrupted Uganda society. The man said: your country is corrupted from top to bottom. Take heed. Drastic situations require drastic measures. Begin at the top with yourself—resign if you are serious because you no longer have any credibility. The ninjas too have to audit themselves about the backdoor state-house scholarships you corruptly dished out. Otherwise, they have no professional and moral standings ab initio.

47 Years Wasted Indeed

Mutebi, the King of Buganda, recently observed that 47 years of Uganda’s post Independence from our colonial masters have been wasted with nothing but dysfunctions to show for it. Many would agree with him.

First, the adage that a people deserves the leaders they have holds true for Uganda. All the qualities that brought us to here are ingrained in all of us: the ruthlessness, the fears, the jealousy, the greed, the opportunism, the obsequiousness and the cowardice.

What was the transcendental universal principle upon which the Obote-Mutesa unholy alliance deprived the people of Buganda of suffrage in the independence elections of 1962? It was merely opportunism on both sides, the consequences of which reverberate to this day for all of us.

The recent riot in Kampala is still fresh in our minds. All who are fair agree that there was no sane reason other than opportunism for Museveni to stop the Kabaka from visiting his people. And the ruthlessness with which the rioters were dealt with is characteristically how we individually solve our private disagreements and conflicts. But there was a silver lining in that King Mutebi showed strength and restrain that escaped his father in 1966? Ever since the 1966 debacle we have been deprived of skills and wisdom in finding holistic solutions to the challenges of the day.

Take the prevailing powerhouse, the National Resistance Movement (NRM); there was nothing “national” in the resistance war that brought it to power in rivers of blood? At the core it was a Buganda Resistance Movement (BRM). The Banyankole, the Banyarwanda, and the Bakiga who were co-opted into the resistance war were merely following the son of the soil—Museveni—who saw an opportunity for himself through Buganda’s disaffections. If we still cannot see the light, then there is no word to describe our stupidity.

Ever since independence, our leaders have been greedy for power and have been ruthless at will with the tacit support of our fears, cowardice and obsequiousness. Who stood up in the Lukiiko for restrain? Who, with firm and principled conviction, advised Obote against his excesses? Who could have skillfully stopped Amin before he decimated thousands?

Where is the spirit? Where is the passion for the Uganda nation? There is none. Colonialism was a protection affair. The King of Buganda wanted protection, hence the Protectorate of Uganda to which the rest of us were grafted. The colonial master juggled us like a magician’s balls. And things seemed steady as long his steady hands held sway. Boarding schools, Christianity, Islam and no leader have been successful in injecting real nationalism in the heart and minds of the masses. The politicians cannot exploit what doesn’t exist in us—the narrow but real ethnic survival instincts. Where is a Nyerere?

In the history of Independent Uganda, one man who was in the circles of power stood up, on principle, to oppose the cunning, ruthless and cynical all-powerful president. Many may still question what his inputs were when the NRA excesses in Acoliland went to the extent of spawning a Kony. However, if Dr. Besigye becomes the standard of our leadership class, there is hope. All will also be well if we have more of Kabaka Mutebi.

Did the Fat Cats Yawn at Museveni's UN Speech?

At the recent UN meeting Gadaffi’s buffoonery was legendary. A Chinese diplomat was seen undiplomatically laughing at him. Venezuelan Hugo Chavez noticed the absence of the smell of sulfur sans Bush around! The octogenarian Mugabe had a shinny face and a noticeably colored pate to camouflage the white hair. What about Museveni who fancies himself as the chief spokesperson for Afrika? There was no creativity. He harped on his born-again capitalism mantras: Uganda’s economy is growing at a clip of 7 percent per annum; we (meaning the latter-day crop of Afrikan leaders) have discovered the secret to resuscitating our moribund economies; we shall manufacture our own raw materials instead of exporting at desperate poor man’s prices; if you can help us with our infrastructures, we are ready to take off; and yada, yada, yada.

When the ruling class of Afrika is shaken it screams about interference, sovereignty, neocolonialism, racism and the likes. While, most of them failed miserably, at least, the first crop of Afrikan presidents and prime ministers came up with bold, quasi-original ideas—Ujamaa, Move to the Left, Common Man’s Charter, Negritude, etc. The new crops of presidents show no creativity in solving the challenges of Afrika.

Can a Singapore be achieved without destroying communities and the environment? Can the unbridled quest for trinkets bring happiness and contentment? The president of Uganda boasted of having viable consumer population now. The last time around we were sold into slavery because the chiefs were excited about the trinkets shrewd European adventurers dangled in their faces. There is a need to go to the drawing table to redefine the premises of development and progress not based on greed, jungle laws and aping the West uncritically. The survival of the race depends on it.

Are Christians Cannibals?

Joshua (a.k.a. Jesus), the man, was a rebel against the Jewish establishment. He ridiculed the high and mighty Pharisees, with their haughty legalistic showmanship. His core message was about Love, which, supposedly, is the message of most major religions of the world. He was, however, one of the few teachers who recognized the mental component to liberate the masses: that what is important is what goes on in the mind—the outward show of animal sacrifices and piety is a dog without the right mindset.

Like many great men, Joshua was seemingly full of contradictions. Why the anger in cursing up a fig tree or beating up traders in the temple? We will never know why he was reluctant to help the Greek woman who had a daughter possessed by a demon just because the woman was non-Jewish. Then, his most enigmatic act was at the Last Supper when he blessed bread and wine and offered it to his disciples as his body and blood. The offering of animals and humans to the gods was nothing new as long as human conjured ways to communicate with the mysterious universe.

Ostensibly, he was going to be the “sacrificial lamb” for the sake of a world gone astray. When the missionaries, backed by the might of gun powder, snuff and trinkets, brought this message to the Afrikan shores, the idea of human sacrifice wouldn’t have been anathema to some Afrikan societies. What would have been problematical to some would have been the eating of human flesh and drinking of human blood, albeit symbolically. To achieve this the missionaries and their backers of force first had to debase the Afrikan and his practices, which were equally symbolic attempts to reach the Unknown.

The Afrikan practices, in their noble motivations, are generally attempts to work on the mind so as to reconcile, thank or ask—effectively, no less different from what Joshua preached. It boggles my mind when a highly western-trained Afrikan shuns certain Afrikan practices just because he is “saved.” In a piece in a local weekly, the elders recognized that the Afrikan had a problem after many years abroad where he sought refuge because of his participation and failures that resulted in many deaths and sufferings. He was asked to do certain things, but he refused claiming his allegiance only to Jesus. The question I ask is: if the said Afrikan labels our practices as the works of heathens, should we label him a cannibal for his eating the body and drinking the blood of a Jew?

What is NOT Wrong with Traditional Tribal Leadership

Imagine that the first foreign contacts with Afrika were gradual, peaceful and respectful. Afrika would now have a bigger population. The social fabric would have evolved rather than disrupted. Foreign religions would have blended with Afrikans', providing more meaning. Instead, the contacts were violent and traumatic, stripping her of her dignity, with repercussions that reverberate to this day.

In Afrika today, there is a small percentage of the filthy rich, few of whom have achieved wealth by dint of skills in industry and commerce. Many have looted the coffers of the state, leaving poor infrastructures and poor service deliveries for the rest of the taxpaying population.

What kind of people are these looters? They are the people who went to missionary or other related schools. Many of them profess to be Christians. Some who are serious about Christianity have but a perfunctory knowledge beyond claiming to be “saved.” Generally then Christianity is not a way of living but a social occasion on Sunday. A few of the “educated” class have read western classics, and may be aware of the genesis of how and why they think the way they do. Many, however, excelled in the utilitarian school subjects in order to earn a living in the new Afrika. This latter lot may not be cognizant of from whence their thought process originates.

All this is operating in a milieu in which traditional cultural wisdom no longer has leadership. The young person now looks to Europe and America as the source of what is good. Armed only with the natural ego-centric self, the desires of acquisition and the destruction of those perceived to stand in the way becomes the mode of operation. There in lies what ails Afrika. But it should not be that way.

If traditional African wisdom, through traditional leadership, were revived and practiced it could provide the umbilical cord to extend to the new way. We have many such models in Afrika—for examples Ghana and South Africa—and other parts of the world, such as Japan.

Now, let us take the case of Uganda in which Mr. Museveni is reputed to have fought for the revival of traditional tribal leadership. It is evident that his motivations were only self-serving to gain favors originally from mainly the Baganda population. Now the exercise has been extended to others for strategic political expediency. The next person who comes to power (the sooner, the better) should take the case of traditional tribal leadership as a matter of top priority. Genuine and honest debates should be devoid of political horse-trading. Let us put this dog to rest and attend to other business of living.


Acoli Paramount Chief, Rwot Acana II, on a Visit to Canada

What Does This Portend?

Is this the end of the love affair between Baganda and Dictator Museveni? It doesn't look good for the wily Museveni. Despite what he says about his regime, the unseen forces will take its own course. What are the thoughts that go on in the minds of many Ugandans? Do they go to bed wishing the president a long life? Or are they bewildered, wondering what the Universe has done to their country's fortunes? These are unseen and, collectively, will decide what are to come. Stay tuned.

Rioting, Uganda Styles

You will not Go Through!
Who Blinked First?
Is this a “Gift” to the Opposition?
A Bad Workman Blames His Tools

What International Connections?

Storms form only when moisture, pressure, and temperature dictate; wishing for rain before these conditions are met is a waste of time and energy.
A commentary on an I Ching hexagram

By now the highly media-touted return of Olara Otunnu is old news. Other than some of us, news junkies, and the aroused elderly UPC faithful, by all accounts, it has been a non-event for people like my uncle, Sabino in Mucwini, Kitgum.

One line that came up over and over in some reporter’s imagination was that Otunnu’s purported international connections would be a boon to the opposition. Just how this will be, my uncle, Sabino would want to know.

A leopard does not change its spots. We are generally so conditioned such that the past is an indication of what we will do in the future. Given, people change and circumstances change; however, in weighty matters such as choosing a lifetime mate or electing a leader, woe unto those who don’t look with a jaundice eye to the past.

So, what has Otunnu done so far with his international connections? Min Acan rotted in Museveni’s concentration camps. What mobilization did Otunnu engineer with his “connections” to rally the world to the plight of Les Misérables in the camps? Sure, he uttered some catchy phrases; so what? Instead, he wasted his energy vying for a UN post. How could he, with his heralded brains, not have anticipated that the Museveni government would not give him the time of day?

Somebody is selling us a bill of goods. Or somebody is smoking some herbs and hallucinating.

Out Of Tune

He came. He sang some religious song. He waved with arms wide open like a pope. And the safari jacket and West African attires were passé, a throwback to the sixties and seventies.

Mr. Otunnu, Ugandans have enough pastors who could have pulled for you some raucous old-time revival party for merely thirty pieces of silver! Many of us have had enough of the religious stuff waved on our faces from state house. There is no doubt about your faith, but get on with the program, man.

My brother, the English League football-watching Uganda population would mistake you for a porter if you wear those safari-cum-West African garbs. They like to see their masters in Armani suits and/or military fatigues. There is a guy who puts on military fatigues when he heads North. He sports swanky western suits and a ten-gallon hat to boot when in town or flies his sleek jet to Russia or Iceland. Take a cue from him.

What Goes On In Milton Odongo's Head?

An inflated consciousness is always egocentric and conscious of nothing but its own existence. It is incapable of learning from the past, incapable of understanding contemporary events, and incapable of drawing right conclusions about the future. It is hypnotized by itself and therefore cannot be argued with. It inevitably dooms itself to calamities that must strike it dead.

Carl Jung

There is a dubious office created by Uganda’s Museveni, dubbed the Resident District Commissioner (RDC), which harkens to the days of the all-powerful colonial district commissioner. The docket of the office is supposedly security which, in context, means ensuring the president’s omnipresence and self-perpetuation. From observations it seems the office is a dumping ground for election losers and the dumbos in the Museveni’s NRM fiefdom. Now, give such characters access to the coercive security apparatus such as the army, the police and other opaque state tools, and some of them will throw their weight around to the chagrin of those not in the government camp.
The Grotesque Milton Odongo Looms over Bewildered Peasants
The name Milton Odongo may not mean much, but in the minds of local opposition politicians in the district of Gulu, Uganda, he is the personification of the Anti-Christ. He is the overzealous and overreaching Gulu assistant RDC, who for the last few years has been such a prick. He has jailed, harassed, and disrupted many opposition politicians—all for what?

Here are some unskillful incidences of assistant Gulu RDC in action:
Ordered local radio station not to host Dr. Besigye, the leading opposition presidential candidate

Assaulted Betty Aol, an area MP

Kissing Museveni’s butt in Kaberamaido

Ordered that drugs at a public hospital be given only to members of his party, the NRM

Shoves Gulu mayor in jail

Arrests a local journalist

Each of us has perceptions on how things should be, but as soon as we come into contact with others, we find that they may have different perceptions of their own. Determining whose end will prevail is what leads to conflict. And conflict is not bad in itself because often the end results are greater than the sum of the parts if handled skillfully. Our particular action to achieve our objective depends on our view of the world and how we have been conditioned to act aggressively, passively or respond skillfully. Incidentally, Odongo uses the schoolyard logic of: my way or the highway; heads I win, tails you lose; winner takes all; zero-sum game. Unfortunately, this is the environment which is far too common in the African political dance. Stripped of any semblance of organic traditional wisdom for consensus, we have the dualistic and competitive consciousness we learnt in centuries of western schooling.

The west can open its market; vast wealth can be dug from the rich African soil, but without a collective change in attitude, Africa will continue to spin on its wheel on a journey to nowhere. Milton Odongo, the Gulu assistant RDC, a cog in this wheel, is a poster child of what is wrong with Africa.

Taking Whole*

Taking a company whole is superior
Destroying it is inferior to this.
Sun Tzu

He did it again. He likes to be the center of attention. He is the night dancer dressed in dried banana leaves with body powered in white ashes. Each time the world has to react to him. In less than three months: those mad Jaluos, Acoli MPs are in cahoots with a nascent armed rebel group, and now this. He pushes the envelop of some wacko notions only his head can conjure, and people react, to which he does the familiar foxtrot dance. It doesn’t matter what the idea—only that it benefits his cause—which is his personal interests.

In the wisdom of ancient China, this is not the Way of a sage general. It is not “taking whole.” Taking Whole is premised on the inevitability of conflict as the human condition and the interdependent of the universe. It is achieving victory with minimum bad blood. It portends a transcendent view, practice and action. It is synchronization of the heavens, earth and sentient beings for harmony that leads to progress and prosperity.

In Iraq there was no real victory because there was no Taking Whole. The wholesale dismissal of the Baath establishment ensured the continual quagmire and loss of lives. When the whole wasn’t taken in the settlements in Versailles, it spawned the white man’s second world war. Millions perished. It was also the root cause of the Iraq problem as the winners divided the lands of lesser beings among themselves. On the other hand, the rebuilding of the Axis countries was taking whole that gave unprecedented period of overall peace and human progress.

Taking whole is about enlightened leadership. The president is the Mind of the nation. If he is crafty, the people will be devious. He should be farsighted and appreciate the interconnectedness in the affairs of the nation. The latest contemptuous attempt at having only the indigenous natives of Bunyoro contesting for national elective offices in their respective locales is yet one among a series of snafus and unskillful acts. Another person would have handled the British Banyoro compensation moneys , if any, with finesse to the satisfaction of all concerned. But not our man—Mr. Museveni will screw this thing up. He will open up several fronts of weeping, anger and resentment with unpredictable consequences.

*The Rules of Victory (Gimian & Boyce, 2008)

The Unlikely Filipina Heroine

She was a house wife when her husband Benino Aquino was gunned down by a dictator, Ferdinand Marcos, a once-US client. Asked about her lack of experience, she said she knew she did not have the experience for stealing, corruption, etc. She became the emblem of mass opposition by the weak against oppressive state powers everywhere--the People's Power!

Speaking of Brands

In a local daily, one writer opined that Michael Jackson was a formidable brand. To him the creation of best selling records of all times and the sight of fans becoming unglued because of his death were enough to classify the MJ brand as all-enduring. But is it?

Music appeal, like most products goes hand in hand with the image of the creator—at least to the informed. MJ from childhood until early adulthood was a phenomenon of unsurpassed talent, whose creations sent the young and the young at heart into ecstasies. Peddlers of sugared carbonated water, which the young are prone to guzzling, gave him carte blanc checks for commercials. He was on a roll. They dubbed him “ The King of Pop.” But then all human constructs come laden with flaws. Soon the ass of a god began to leak—the effeminate voice, the gradual change in nose shape, the lightening of skin tone and the affinity for the company of children.

The general fan chorus was: Come on, MJ, we have grown; grow with us! That was not to be. And so many fans left him in his childhood where he felt most comfortable—a childhood many of us could never imagine. This same childhood projection was to become his Achilles’ heel in the morbid American sexuality and money. Soon he was milked of millions of dollars on conjectures of molestations. He lost many more fans and would-be fans. He was later to buy his own playmate kids produced from donated white sperms and eggs.

Amidst all these advertisers could not touch him with a long pole. Other than to his hard-core fans his music lost its appeal. Was the sold-out comeback tickets mere curiosity? If it were for his music, the fans would have been disappointed. MJ would have ended up in failure and humiliation that could have even killed him on stage. The gods spared him the ordeal.

So, speaking of brands; maintaining one requires skills, adroitness, ability and willingness to change and adopt with the times. For example, one might ask: What is the NRM brand—if any? Supposedly it was sold on being different from past regimes and getting rid of the Northern hegemony. It has achieved the latter and made many people happy. However the chief archtitect could have wished the North, especially Acoli, to come to its knees. Other than the random obsequiousness and confusion, that will never happen. The NRM has also contained several amateurish armed challenges to its authority which gives it credibility among the bewildered masses. But let us look at the so-called Fundamental Change.

The Fundamental Change clearly defines the NRM brand. There is the wild-wild-west capitalism defined by fire sale of quasi-government enterprises, neglect of public infrastructures and get-rich-quick greed manifested by obscene corruptions. Then, what about key government positions? The chief architect talks about non-sectarianism but, in broad day light, cynically packs key positions with his tribal people. That is change, indeed. More than anything, the NRM has refined the art of self-perpetuation through fear, double talks and bribes. Is this brand sustainable in the long run? Even the uninformed and unthinking masses will soon see through the charade and stop buying NRM.

War is Not What Acoli Needs Now

Mao had left his flash disk on an hotel computer. The disk finally found its way to the security authorities. Soon a bunch of local guys were nabbed one by one for being part of a nascent rebel group orchestrated by those in the so-called Diaspora. In the reasoning of the government such an activity could not go on without the tacit knowledge and approval of the area opposition MPs.

First, the premise that the area opposition MPs would be in cahoots with those in the Diaspora is false. I cannot see how the MPs could risk their political lives by joining some hairy, delusional scheme for war.

That such a file could find its way into the hands of Mao speaks volume about the quality of this Diaspora rebel group. I bet it will not be able to provide legal support for those already in jail, let alone bail them out.

War is costly in terms of money, organization and human lives. Where the Diaspora can find the money to wage a protracted war beats my imagination. Most out there are saddled with mortgages, schools fees back home and other basic necessities to have spare coins. If a document can so easily find its way into the hands of Uganda security operatives, what kind of organization does this rebel group have? Nothing substantial has ever come out of any Diaspora grouping. What prompts the characters behind this rebel outfit that it will fare any different this time around?

Acoli has lost so many lives. It is time to let us replenish in peace what has been lost. However flawed, there are options available at the ballot box. We must have the courage to resist anger and re-channel it into voting power. It is a longer avenue but, if we are true to bringing good, we should not fall prey to the nature of the “enemy.” Violence never got anything good. Let us not be fooled by his apparent success at using violence to get to where he is. In the final analysis he will pay for the ocean of blood he helped spill. If your intentions are noble, help those who are at the forefront win elections against the gangster ogre. Or go there yourself—stand for positions or help with organizing. Otherwise, stop confusing people with your weaknesses that passes for being warriors.

The Comeback That Never Was

We plan, God decides, so the saying goes. And the man kicked the bucket—never to be heard from again in this earthly realm—no concerts—no comeback.

I was introduced to the Jackson 5, hence Michael Jackson, by my urbanite, relatively sophisticated first serious girlfriend. Me, I was a village hick come to town! I had, of course, read about the slave trade and the Negroes of America, but never really connected to them emotionally. The Jackson 5 and Mohammed Ali were the primary connecting channels. My girl friend had a Jackson tape, and I played it over and over on my analog recorder-player.

Come the eighties, when I could see more clearly, the excitement about the man had waned just as he was hitting the mega stardom. Why? There was something that did not jive right about the man for me. Jackson lacked what Prince (as in The-Artist-Formerly-Known-as-Prince) had—raw unabashed manhood. That effeminate voice and the way he carried himself just wasn’t for me. The self-hate, projected in nearly fifty surgeries to Europeanize the contours of his face, spoiled it all.

Now, like a dream, he is no more except in our memories. What lessons can we, still around here, learn? The Grand Reaper can come at anytime. Now is the only time we have. So, we have to do our utmost best at whatever floats our boat—tuning our Adungu, not too tight, not too lose so that the music brings joy to all and sundry. There are rarely second chances. Hopefully, in the process, we will find the ultimate reality thereby spending the rest of our time beyond mere quest for power, wealth and fame.

I overheard a couple of elderly African-Americans at a neighborhood concert: It was time for him to go and rest.

So, We Covet What the Europeans Have!

The African village boy dies in a clandestine attempt at crossing the Sahara desert en route to a perceived better life in Europe. Even the powerful Museveni of Uganda declares that Africans want what the Europeans have. By this he means adequate electricity, excellent road and railway systems so that Africa can attract critical mass private investments (instead of relying on NGOs) that can catapult it into the 21st century consumerism, which is said to be indicative of the good life. He, however, leaves out the democratic culture which is part and parcel of the European experience that holds together what they have built and sustain.

There is no question that Africa needs to improve her populations’ material welfare, health and basic infrastructures. But here are my questions to those clamoring to improve the lot of the Africans:

1. Do we need the level of European consumerism even as many insightful Europeans are now reevaluating their consumption habits?

2. Do cultural norms, such as high trust index and/or entrenched spiritual (not necessarily religious) compass, influence a people’s ability to develop and progress?

3. Is autocratic governing necessary to build economic base for a take-off? Can that occur concurrently with liberal democracy? Why do we desire western Armani suits, our children to get the best western education money can buy, western Lear jets, sleek western cars and yet shun liberal democracy, and are quick to label it “foreign” when it has all the ingredients of universal humanity?

4. Who in this world gives and have no expectations of the use of the object of giving? Apparently Museveni expects a largesse from Europeans and their American cousins, but does not want to be told what to do by mere school kids out of college! And the Africans at the gathering in Germany were ecstatic to hear this mundane childish utterance. The man himself gives his brown envelops and expects certain behavior, like MPs voting in a certain way in his rubberstamp parliament.

A Woman After My Heart

1991 Noble Peace Laurette


The quintessential revolution is that of the spirit, born of an intellectual conviction of a need for change in those mental attitudes and values which shape the course of a nation’s development. A revolution which aims merely at changing official policies and institutions with a view to improvement in material conditions has little chance of genuine success. Without a revolution of the spirit, the forces which produce the iniquities of the old order would continue to be operative…. It is not enough merely to call for freedom, democracy and human rights. There has to be a united determination…. To make sacrifices in the name of enduring truths, to resist the corrupting influence of desire, ill will, ignorance and fear.

Saints, it has been said, are the sinners who keep on trying. So free men are the oppressed who go on trying and who in the process make themselves fit to bear the responsibilities…. Which will maintain a free society…. A people who would build a nation in which strong, democratic institutions are firmly established as a guarantee against state-induced power must first learn to liberate their own minds from apathy and fear.

Aung San Suu Kyi, Freedom From Fear

The Sine Qua Non of Uganda's Heroism

As with any fancy-named scheme coming out of the NRM government, there is the ever creative Museveni behind it. And so on the heels of the Martyrs’ Day—a day in remembrance of a mass murder—there is the Heroes’ Day, effectively, a day in which the NRM congratulates itself. For all intents and purposes, it is about celebrating violent, mostly, men. The list of those “honored” speaks for itself. The subtle message is: have a gun to enforce your will and you might become a hero too. Is that the message we want to give to the youth and leaders of tomorrow?

The oft-quoted NRM one-liner: We are not here by accident. If violence is the message, it is neither by accident that we have spurts of violent outrages: a soldier goes on a shooting spree, a husband stabs a wife for ownership of a house, a husband forces a wife to suckle a dog, a jealous fiend splashes acid on the face of another, ad infinitum.

Heroes’ Day is the creation of a violent mind. On his list he will not have those who gave support from such places as Nairobi or London. He just doesn’t see the vital connections of those out-of-bush king makers who were equally violent by intent. But, Aaah! He would contrive and fabricate a long-ago violent tribal king into his hero list. As the great fabricator, he would assert that the NRA was “inspired” by the “heroism” of Kabalega. Give me a break. Of course, now the Luoness of Kabalega’s ancestry is unmentionable as it was done in the Luoing of another great tribe that was beginning to be a crab in the groin. The heroism of Kabalega is simply meant to garner some Bunyoro votes.

And so, his heroes are not my heroes—neither should they be yours. Our heroes are the doctors, the nurses, the teachers and other workers who work for pittance. The mothers and fathers who sacrifice the little they have to raise families are our heroes.

The Otunnu Factor

Miria Obote fired Okello-Okello and his gang, and maybe rightly so. The Okellos-Okellos were the ones who likely engineered her ascendancy to inherit her husband’s UPC leadership. Her husband died in a foreign land, unfulfilled with, maybe, sadness. So, there is an emotional tie to the party that many of us ordinary mortals have no clue about.

“ How dare these characters to go behind my back?,” she might have furiously asked.

Okello-Okello is a fighter for many causes I care about. However, it is time to let the past go. Change is the only constant. UPC is a spent force. The only energy of the party is nostalgia among the old diehards and Langi tribal loyalty.

A political party is like a raft. You use it to cross a river. Once you have crossed the river, you may discard it at the shore. To cling to it and carry the raft on your back everywhere you go is to look foolish and ridiculous.

Equally, other than nostalgia, going to beg Olara Otunnu to lead the party was not based on any hard cold calculation. Sure, Otunnu is a once-wiz-kid who was a star debater even from primary school. Testifying in his father’s Mulokole gatherings may have given him a head start advantage in honing his oratory skills. And sure, he rose to hold very high profile positions, which few Ugandans remember. Some who do may recall that he had a similar journey to his uncle’s 6-month government where he was bamboozled and out- maneuvered by Museveni in Nairobi.

Now, the question is: What does Otunnu have that should make me vote for him? So far, there is nothing and, I suspect that many Ugandans will see no reason to vote for him come 2011. Let him stand for a parliamentary seat against people like Hilary Onek—now you are talking! Or will that be below him?

K Ssemogerere, the Colonial Visitor from the South

Mr. Ssemogeree’s narration of his “safari” through the Eastern and Northern frontiers is not unlike that of a colonial adventurer of the 1800s. True to form, a colonial traveler worth his salt must be carried by native guides to negotiate the dangerous primitive terrains. And so Ssemogerere’s guide—and he never fails to get one as in “I always find one”—showed him businesses affiliated with the dangerous terrorist, lest he be kidnapped and made to carry sacks of potatoes. Believe it or not, there have been kids from Kawempe, Entebbe and what-have-you who “escaped” Kony and sought asylum in desirable locales.

Of course, a “civilized” colonialist must dispense unsolicited advice to the natives to save themselves against themselves: “There is no reason to prolong this funeral” and follow the young who are free from past memories. But one must ask: If the dethroning of a tribal king could engender orgies of revenge killings twenty plus years later, don’t other have the right to mourn their murdered kin as long as they wish?

And speaking of murder, we have just celebrated the act of a macabre mass murderer at the dawn of a concept, called Uganda. Vacuous, grand standing speeches were made. Even the President threw in a few banal biblical quotes he does not believe in and, if he does, he is far too gone in the service of the devil to help himself.

For those of us who subscribe and believe in the Newtonian law of action and reaction—cause and effect—, could the karmic fruition of that single dastardly act not be the one haunting the Pearl? If we cannot talk and face truth in order to exorcise the past, the funeral must go on lest we forget and be caught flat-footed and be victimized once again in the next round of orgasmic violence.

NRM Acoli Style

The office of the RDC is purportedly for the coordination of a district's security issues. It is answerable only to the President. Since there are elected district officials and the Police who could handle most security matters, this is yet another fail-safe redundancy control mechanism that props the President at unnecessary costs to the taxpayers. The appointees are often election losers who obsequiously and shamelessly advance the NRM (a.k.a. Museveni) agenda beyond the security docket.

Take the case of one assistant RDC of Gulu district—one Milton Odong. (The Milton probably originated from parents with some admiration or connection with another famous or infamous--depending on your persuasion--Ugandan). To say that Milton Odong is over jealous would be an understatement. One time there was some donation of medicine to the local Gulu government hospital. Odong had the gall to edict that the medicine would only benefit NRM supporters. This is no joke. The same Odong also issued an order stopping an opposition MP from recruiting from a local teachers’ training school. Again, the same Odong locked up the Gulu town mayor who had some office misunderstanding with a man who was transferred or fired from the town’s administration.

Then take the case of one presidential assistant-cum-adviser—a Toodwong. There are countless advisers—some who would starve but for the presidential largess—throughout the country, but you rarely hear from them. But not our Toodwong. He is known for his strident support for giving Acoli land to the so-called investors—chief among them, the Indian Madhivani. Recently Mr. Toodwong went to the elders of Payira clan in Anaka, urging them to support his MP quest in 2011.













Toodwong Woos Acoli Payira Elders
Generally clan support is part and parcel of Acoli politics, but to ask for it openly and bluntly is a new one. Even then, some have in the past bucked the trend. NRM Onek, who is said to be a Sudanese Acoli (and there is no problem with that, but with the caveat of correct allegiance), beat up UPC Lucima, who relied on his maternal and paternal clans to deliver him to Parliament. In the sixties the late Alija Latim, whose father was a Jonam and mother an Acoli from Mucwini, Kitgum was a formidable DP in the Gulu area, beating up clan-based candidates on the two parliametntary elections.

Generally, however, Acoli allegiance is to family, followed by clan. The idea of corporate Acoli is a new emerging phenomenon—thanks to the Amin and NRA atrocities. For long an Acoli man was for himself, his family, and maybe his clan. Thus he served the British faithfully and loyally. He again served Obote faithfully and loyally. For all that Amin butchered him at will with no one to rally for his cause. When the NRA came there was no Acoli structure and organization against the determined and organized NRA forces. The efforts by some elders to rally the Acoli were simply delusional. The Kony phenomenon is just a sad case of Gipir-Labongo curse of anger and stubbornness that is still the pervasive collective unconscious of the Acoli.

So then, it is not surprising if we find Acoli NRM party apparachiks who are willing to fall on swords for the sake of the party. If history is any indication, the number will increase as young men and women seek their individual fortunes and clans are willing to lend their supports. Mr. Museveni knows what he is talking about when he says he will win support in Acoli come 2011 despite leaving the region to the dogs for nearly a quarter century. It will be a test as to whether Acoli society has evolved or regressed to the same old, same old.

Integrity

Amin would have probably asked: Who is this man, called Integrity?! If he is a real man, I want to challenge him to a boxing match!

Integrity is one of those words that are rare in the Uganda common lexicon. It is about personal wholeness, consistency, authenticity, and commitment to values and principles in all daily interactions and activities. (Koslow 1999).

In His bargain with Abraham, God promised that He would not destroy Sodom and Gomorrah if He could find 10 good people. In a similar vein, can one find 10 people in Uganda with integrity? Hardly. However, in the political realm people like Bidandi Ssali, Amanya Mushega and Besigye can be counted as authentic and capable of correcting the tortured legacy of the nation. One would wish that the first two could have more fire in their bellies. On the other hand, the man heading the NRM has no integrity at all. Many of the rest of us would also as easily compromise our integrity for short-term gains as he has done on many occassions. This is because we have a deluded sense of “self” as we look for happiness in all the wrong objective realities.

Here are some tidbits on Integrity by Koslow.

1. Always keep your word. If a change in circumstances means that keeping your word would be life threatening or otherwise devastating, renegotiate with the intent of maintaining integrity

2. Integrity requires consistency between your public statements and your private thoughts

3. Highly effective people never blame circumstances for their lack of results. Instead, they accept responsibility and recommit to the actions necessary to produce intended results.

Who Can Judge Good from Bad?

In a Taoist story, a farmer's horse once ran off into foreign lands. The neighbors all said it was terrible, but the farmer shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not." Later, the horse returned with a foreign horse of fine breed. The neighbors all said it was wonderful, but the farmer shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not." The horse mated, and the farmer became a wealthy horse trader. One day his only son was riding and fell and broke his hip. The neighbors all said how horrible, but the man shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not." Next year, foreigners invaded. All able-bodied young men were drafted. Almost all died in battle. The army had taken all the man's horses, but his son, because of the broken hip, was spared.

The moral: you never know. The other day a good friend of mine asked whether I thought a certain African dictator was grooming his wife to succeed him. She wanted a definite answer, and didn't like my wishy-washy one. You never know; the universe has its own laws. In the chaos theory and complex theory the results of interactions between A & B is dependent on the environment C, plus factors D, E & F.

It Can Never Be Taken Back

Once you say something, it can never be taken back even if you do a Munyankole dance.
Many times what are supposedly careless talks come from the unconscious, reflecting what has been buried deeply—a Freudian slip. But Rubanga pe wany (God is not stingy)—she gives you what you want when you least expect. And that includes the darkness that festers in our hearts unbeknownst to the rest of the world. Then, kaboom!: “Those Jaluos are mad.”

This was the “beloved” President of Uganda in his truest elements. Of course, now there is backtracking and calculated explanations because he wants the East African Community, a concept to accommodate his large ego. Some Ugandans are used to this kind of reckless ethnic slurs. But will the Kenyans and the Tanzanians take such slurs like sheep? He can’t help himself. Next time he is frustrated, we may hear about “those promiscuous Bakusu!”

Isn't It Ironic?

The world is very strange. Take the case of American blacks. I cannot even imagine the kinds of sufferings their slave ancestors went through. One aspect of these sufferings was the fact that the master would take the women and have them for pleasure and/or the production of more slave heads in the plantation. Thus came the category of lighter skin blacks. Here is the irony: soon these lighter skin blacks became of “higher quality”—they had “better” skin tone and “better” hair. To this day the lighter skin tone and flowing hair are at a premium in the black community. Those that did not have had to use skin corroding soap and hot comb. Thanks to some chemistry wizard who has concocted chemicals that take the kinkiness out of black heads. It is a multi-billion industry that is supported by even village women in the remotest jungles of Africa. Poor Africans have but to latch on.

What else is strange? The swashbuckling guerilla top dog marched into Kampala in 1986. One of his proclamation was that Africa’s problem was leaders who stay in power for too long. A predecessor, who did not last long in the caretaker seat once commented that the presidential chair was very sweet. Our guerilla top dog certainly agrees with that as he “forgot” his earlier statement and has clung on to power like a tick on one of his cows. He still wants more after twenty plus years and counting. Isn’t it ironic?

Africans were colonized and abused. We could not wait and were euphoric for Independence. Then we got new masters in black skin. Now we can’t wait to get out of the continent and go to the lands of the master colonists. We lie, starve and undergo all kinds of humiliation to get to the “promised land.” Isn’t that ironic?

In America it used to be that if you much as looked at a white woman, you might be hanged on the next tree. Now some of my brothers specialize exclusively on white women. Our uncle, Hussein Obama got on the bandwagon and produced for us a dynamic president. Isn’t that positively ironic?

Size Isn't Everything

A time in the men’s gym locker room is a study in comedy. There is the tall Rastafarian with a member almost to his knees! He knows what he has, and is not shy about intimidating with it. Then there is the white dude with his fat belly folds almost covering his member. Then there is the rest of us in-betweens.

Men are so hung up on size. So do many women. Yet the mechanics of giving satisfaction does not require reaching the womb. Tantric techniques can make a woman explode without much ado. It is not the size; it is the intelligence in the winnie. But this is not going to stop the myth and much low self-esteems. Incidentally the dude with the navel size has a bunch of kids--testimony that something is happenning to keep the memshahib around.

Talking about size; it has of late been a major theme song of the president of Uganda. Not that size! Rather the relationship of population size to economic development. Most recent one was in a lecture to the students at university of Dar-Es-Salaam. He, ostensibly, wooed for the need for a East African Community as a means of a larger economic free flows. Tanzania has been dragging its feet to the creation of the common market.

Size is not decisive in bringing about economic development. There are numerous economies with small populations which are prospering in this globalized world. Uganda has for several years now had the markets of Southern Sudan and Eastern Congo to exploit. It only stole stuff from Congo. It could not take full advantage beyond petty commerce. The obsession with the East African Community is a misplaced effort. With the dilapidated public structures and leadership-by-whims, Uganda will only be a dumping ground for the goods of those more prepared, and the fledgling Uganda wannabe-industrialists will be snuffed at birth.

Tanzania should stick to its course. Better later than sorry.

The Monkey Mind

Ever heard of the “monkey mind”? That is how some people describe the seemingly uncontrollable activities of the wondering mind. Like a monkey, constantly jumping from one tree branch to another, the untamed mind jumps about from one thought to another—now it is thousands of miles in London, next it is thinking about Odiya who did me wrong years ago, then it is to the future when life will be milk and honey with a knight with shining armor and on a white horse—hither and thither it wanders.

The other day, instead of biting the morsel of food I was taking to my mouth, I bit the fork and chipped my tooth! The reason: my mind was miles away from eating. Many accidents have occurred because the mind was not with the activities at hand. Besides accidents, the danger to the monkey mind is that it can cause us a lot of miseries. This has nothing to do with the “mind” that can comprehend such arcane concepts as quantization in digitizing analog communications signals, brain elasticity, or fractal geometry. The monkey mind is an equal opportunity phenomenon that afflicts the high and mighty as well as those who eat grass to subsist—unless, of course, one tames it.

All who know agree that a pristine mind is one that dwells in the now. The now and the here is the only earthly reality. The past, a series of the now, is long gone and is reflected in the present circumstances. The future is illusive but can be influenced, to a large extent, by the now.

So, when a snake-oil salesman comes and tells you: “ keep your health and do not die because the future Uganda is a jewel, not unlike Britain or even better,” beware. Just role your eyes and wonder about the state of his mind. If you live in the now in a certain way and hope for a different future, you are either stupid, ignorant or insane. Mismanagement of resources will not change even if Acoliland begins gushing oil in the billions of gallons. Those who are “eating” will continue their gluttonous eating at the expense of the multitudes. A dog will always go back to its vomit.

Onen, the Cause Célèbre for the Nile Republic?

Who can remain patient
while the mud gradually clears?
Who can remain still
while the moment for action so slowly emerges?
Lao Tzu

It was a long time ago. He came, he saw , he conquered. That was Julius Onen. He had come from another school for his A Level. I was may be in form One or Two. His good friend Ocan (now judge) also came over from another school. While Ocan had a heavier soul, Onen was light—a likable personality by anyone. Soon he was elected house prefect. He was the school’s football goalie. There was no fire and brimstone crusader disposition about him. No wonder other countries would recommend him for the East African job, and the Northern MPs would rally to his cause. What is surprising is that his job cause would become a rallying point for the Nile Republic.

It is difficult to understand why groups would want their own to be a minister or a high-level government appointee. Would Onen’s appointment bring a paved road to his village in Layibi? Such is the kind of question a Museveni would cynically pose. The counter question is, in spite of preaching non-sectarianism and, if it doesn’t matter, why has he filled most high-level government positions with his westerners? The point is: it matters. Such appointments have a feel-good and motivational effect for the rest of us. When Onen passes by in his sleek car and throws dusts on my face, I can proudly point and exclaim: the ambassador is in Gulu this week-end and may be, if I am lucky, I may get to shake his ambassadorial hands! It tells a young man or woman that s/he can be all s/he can be unhampered by tribal affiliation. It says, if I excel, I can get a road-sweeping job without having to talk Lunyankole.

A government appointment is a good litmus test that a group belongs. If such appointments are not forthcoming, however qualified, it means you don’t belong. Why then stay? Coupled with various other forms of marginalization, it is time to seriously consider other options. There will be no love lost if the North went its separate ways. One wonk opined that it is wishful thinking. Yes, may be, but it is a good start. Even the Protectorate from which Uganda was cobbled was initially a wishful thinking when some people were peeing in their kanzus in fear of the fearsome Kabalega.
What the leaders need to do is to prepare the Northern population. Causes and conditions will come when the Nile Republic can be effected if the collective psyche is ready. In the meantime we should streamline and consolidate our votes to the side of the forces of overall genuine fairness and respect for the rule of law.

Patriotism is the New Religion in Uganda

Look at your present body to determine what you did in the past. Look at your present mind to determine what will come in the future. Shiddhartha Gautama

When China was in the throes of convulsions, great teachers emerged to its aid. Thus Kungfu Tzu (Confucius) coded elaborate ethics and methods of running governments. And Lao Tzu enacted moral codes for living in harmonious unity with nature.

In Uganda the Luwero war was the war to end all wars—human sacrifice and blood was to give birth to a new nation—for the gun having been demystified by willful carnage, the population would henceforth be unafraid of any devil that would emerge to lord over them. Moreover, the good of the nation would be foremost in the minds of the rulers and the ruled. The distortion in the power structure was corrected, so we were told.

All, however, did not turn up as planned for, as they say: Man plans, the gods decide. Uganda is not the shinning star on the mountain in a dark continent. Hence, the need for the new religion—Patriotism—to revive the fortunes of lost dreams.

Mr. Museveni, the fabricator extraordinaire, just completed a whirlwind budget busting tour of his fiefdom, preaching the gospel of Patriotism. In the North a prospective presidential candidate told teachers in his district to ignore Museveni’s call and just do their work. He has a point. What could be more patriotic than teachers concentrating on their job and avoiding distractions?
Another potential candidate, in a jujitsu-like reaction, began to preach his version of Patriotism to the youths of Nakawa. It seems that, if you are a prospective candidate and you never understood that Museveni has already thrown the gauntlet and has started the 2011 campaign in earnest, then you have lost ab initio.

I am not a candidate, but I will vote, and here is my version of Patriotism: Know thyself and control thy mind. From these come self-confidence, self-respect for yourself and others who make up the nation, the focus of Patriotism. So equipped, you will not take was is not yours without permission. So equipped, while horse-trading is a political reality, you will not blatantly and cynically buy MPs to enact laws for the benefit of you, the individual. So equipped, you will respect workers' resources and not muscle your way to obtain such resources to build your private enterprise. So equipped, you will be mindful of your priorities and maintain good roads and other public infrastructures. The list goes on and on. To know thyself and to respect thyself and others is to understand interdependence, impermanence and the emptiness of it all. Grasping and clinging to self in ignorance of reality, instead of embracing the whole, breeds lack of patriotism and its concomitant defective people and nation.

Next, Britain Will Donate Grasshoppers

The story that Britain is donating two lionesses to Uganda is unbelievable. It is a story that demonstrates the hopelessness of Africa at its core.

Lions and many other animals are native to Uganda, and would have been a critical cash cow. Where did the lions go? Poisoned by pastoralists, so says the Uganda Wildlife Authority (UWA). That is the shifty (Allan Tacca) explanation. A major part of the problem is lack of foresight and planning, which also shows up in bad roads and collapsing public infrastructures. Foreigners took, were given or stole a variety of animals just as they did humans. They went built zoos in their homelands. Now, why would middle-class Americans go to Africa to see animals when they can go to Florida and see the same animals? Which fool gives away his precious assets so that others can profit from while he starves?

Now that climate change is happening and the power that be sells away forests to “investors,” grasshoppers (cinene) may find nowhere to spawn. I understand part of the Baganda bride price includes cinene. We need to send an SOS to mother Britain. I am sure a foreign service Eton kid foresaw the day cinene would be of service in winning and influencing “friends,” and arranged for the breeding of imported cinene in Pax Britannia.

The Musevenian Kamya

Museveni came to power on the disaffections with Obote and the Northern hegemony—some real some imaginary. Other than the unnecessary losses of lives in the exercise, I have no tears for the Obote governments, nor that of his immediate successors. I owe them no favors.

The early Musvenian rhetorics—10-point program, sowing the mustard seed, building machines that build machines, the problem of Africa is leaders who overstay their shelf-lives, etc, etc—appealed to emotions. But emotions are often contaminated and lead down perilous paths to disappointments. A keen observer would have, however, soon detected the dualistic essence and anomalies and not been fooled. Other than the losers, all were out for a euphoric ride like children with candies, only to wake up shackled and gagged.


BK












WB

Fast forward to 2006. After Winnie Banyima abandoned us, her fans, Beti Kamya was the new heart-breaker gal on the block—brilliant and with the chic hairdo to boot! Check out the stylish headscarf of WB! BK like WB appealed to my intellect and emotions. Give me beautiful, fearless and brilliant women or give me death! I could not wait to read BK’s incisive articles. Then came the catfights with her party, FDC. I am a lover, and irrational cackling frightens the jibbers out of me! However couched, it was all about her ego. As we know, ego must get what ego wants, no matter what. It spoilt it all for me.

Ego is a mental construct. It has no inherent intrinsic existence. It is a deluded sense of self-grasping. It is the single source of a lot of miseries because it plays with our minds that it is a real solid phenomenon. Untamed, we all have it in various degrees, but it seems more prevalent and pronounced in the political classes because theirs plays out in the public arena. In the political realm ego sometimes projects as cleverness—the so-called political astuteness—when it is just plain old lying, cheating and back-stabbing.

Now, the question is: if Museveni is all about his ego at its grossest, and Kamya has displayed gross ego-centric behaviors with FDC, what is the difference between the two? The mantra of both is: my way or the high road—a chorus of confirmed egomaniacs. If both had tanks and guns to back their wishes and fantasies, the difference would be the same.

How Special is Buganda?

The statistical odds of many Ugandans reaching the age of 54 is not for the average Okello. And so it was an occasion of joy celebrating the birthday of the calm and level-headed King of Buganda whose ancestors were often erratic, if not mentally deranged. As characterizes many such occasions in Uganda, however, court jesters came out in full swing with such nonsense as: Buganda is special and must be so treated.

Buganda certainly has a crucial role to play in Uganda, just as much as Karamoja. When the clergy disrobes and gets right down being irrational, calling for a special Buganda, many Ugandans have a problem. We have been déjà vu down this path before, and it has not been pretty.

At the dawn of Independence the Mengo cabal wanted a special Buganda role—which effectively meant a special roles for themselves—even at the cost of disenfranchising the general population of Buganda. The Baganda effectively did not vote for the Independence government—an act that was patently corrupt, if not outright illegal. What would have happened had Baganda voted? Would their numerical advantage (which the NRM now salivates over) not been decisive and the history of Uganda been different?

We are in the era of democratic dispensation of free elections. However flawed the process has been, why is the Buganda population electing the ones who might be emasculating the “special Buganda?” Something is not jiving here.

Living in Cocoons

In Acoliland homes were (and still are) joined by pedestrian paths. So, going to the next village, school, hospital, or wherever, you would walk through the open compounds. That was the physical openness of Acoli life which might also explain the pervasive psychological construct. Contrast that to the Ugandan Indians who built walls around their shop-cum-homes. They would emerge to the store fronts to peddle their wears and retreat inside the walls at closing time. There they remained mysterious unto themselves. No wonder few black Ugandans had any empathy when Amin expelled them.

Now in Acoliland my brothas and sistas are building mansions enclosed in obscene tall walls. I am told one prominent Acoli politician is planning (or has already done so) to erect walls around his 500-acre farm. What is going on? Is it fear? Fear of what? My sista, my brotha, we just want to pass by and say: I rio maber? And also check on whether you still go to the toilet like the rest of us! There is no envy or covetousness. In fact, we celebrate with you on your success. No one wants the junks you have collected in the mansion. Might we ask whether this physical cocooning is also a manifestation of mental and heart cocooning which shows up in rigidity and fear of other points of views?

Looking is the Key

What is the sound of clapping one hand?
A Zen koan

Nasruddin, the Sufi was frantically looking for something under the street lamp. Some passersby asked him what he was looking for. He said that he was looking for the key to his house. The passersby joined him in looking, but soon tired, and one asked him where he actually lost the key. Nasruddin said he lost the key in the house!

Then there is the story of the Muslim who was put in jail for a crime he did not commit, and he wanted very much to escape. When a friend smuggled in a prayer mat , he was disappointed . He would have preferred a hacksaw or a knife. However, as he knelt in prayer and looked at the intricate patterns of the mat he saw the design for picking the lock in his cell!

Nasruddin was teaching that looking is the key to finding out about life. And the Muslim story tells us that we don’t have to look far to find reality and solutions to our problems—it is just under our nose.

As we navigate life (individually and collectively) we need to look—and not very far from where we are. Additionally, nobody can do it for us—we are solely responsible for our understanding and knowledge. This is the way of our ancestors and the great minds of old who looked and asked questions.

Here some questions that Ugandans need to ask to find answers to their myriads challenges:

1. Why has Uganda been having dictators since soon after Independence?
2. Can there be a solution to the continuing autocratic governance?
3. Why are there ritual murders in Buganda, the center westernized enlightenment in Uganda?
4. Why was Obote toppled twice?
5. Why did the Lutwa government crumble like a house of cards?
6. Why is Buganda the linchpin of successive governments and yet has not produced any charismatic inspirational national leader in spite of its relative wealth and western education?
7. Can westerners buck the culture of guilt-by-association and ward off revenge that might lurk in the dark minds of some Ugandans? Every other groups have been victimised. Will they be the exception?
8. Why have the Acoli suffered for over 20 years?
9. What is the real story behind the LRA and its phenomena ?
10. How does a supposedly Christian nation come up with an Amin, is corrupted from top to bottom, and is soaked with blood in its history?

The answers to the questions are right under our noses, if we can only look. For example, the Karamojong need to look at themselves and their actions if they are to come with any lasting solution to their challenges. The Munyankole woman is just looking for the interests of her husband, and she is not going to take them to the Promised Land.

God Works in Mysterious Ways

Bringing God into politics is a dicey complicated affair since God herself works in mysterious ways not unlike the political realm. So, I am flabbergasted and scratch my head (and I suspect many are) when the first lady of Uganda attributes or calls upon God for her political fortunes. This is in a milieu where her husband (by his own statement) is a representative of God in Uganda. Who is kidding who? Are we that gullible?

Recently Mrs. Janet Museveni was appointed as an assistant minister for Karamoja affairs. She quickly announced that it was God who gave her the daunting job—a job that defeated the British power, was not completed in Obote I, and her husband’s NRA exploited.

Is the Karamoja appointment an attempt by the national representative of God to lock in the monolithic Karamoja votes come 2011? In the meantime maybe her friends from America can flock in to dress the Karamojong and stop the slicing of women’s clitoris. If successful, the efforts will be major historical achievements.

She has asked the Karamojong to pray for rain. For the rain to materialize the Karamojong can aid their prayers by stopping stealing cattle and murdering their neighbors with the NRA guns supplied to them in the days of strategic containment of neighbors unsympathetic to the excesses of the early NRA. The Bible says that, for your prayers to be answered, you have to settle with your brother first—extinguish the bad karma unless, of course, you have a powerful spouse who is beyond the grasp of karma—so he thinks. The Lord, indeed, works in mysterious ways.