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.