Save me, Save Ug; Inside the Finance Minister’s cry for help.

IMG_20170305_093742A writer/publisher of great repute was asked by an aspiring young writer to peruse his manuscript with a view of giving it the nod necessary for its publication. When he received the package he sent it back to the enthusiastic young man with a note, “Is this the best you can come up with?” The young man, undeterred by the blow, proceeded to re-read his manuscript dotting the “ts” and cross the “i”s, or rather the other way round (wanted to see of you were following.  And then resent the manuscript to the great author. He received his comments that very after noon and the words were, “is this the best you can do?

Given how in awe he held the great author he went through the process with even greater rigor than before. Huge chunks of the works were expunged, reworked until the young man, like the great Father in the Bible, looked at his handiwork and was pleased. He sent it to the great man confident that the work would find acceptance. It came back with the same comments already mentioned.

The young man could not take it any more. He wrote a well thought out letter, editing it several times to remove coarse and offensive language, explaining that  he had truly labored and he could not find any more improvements to make.  Including a few more civilities he sent the letter and the manuscript to the great man. He received this reply, “I will now read your manuscript!”

This anecdote was brought to my attention when I heard that the Minster of Finance was seeking for aid from academicians to write about the economic challenges of our country Uganda. Under our current governance structure the Minister of Finance is the chief under whose authority the National Planning Authority(NPA) falls. The NPA is jammed packed with economists and other such academicians whose competence like Ceasor’s wife is beyond suspicion. And it is true that this department has excelled in providing written direction for the country to achieve the country development goals. These are codified in the National Development Plan 1 and National Development Plan 2. Priority areas defined in the NPD2.

We also have apex bodies like the Economic Policy Research Centre (EPRC) whose analysis of the economic situation in Uganda is beyond reproach. In a stakeholders meeting in February 2018 the EPRC stressed a need for Uganda to make new strategies to address, inter alia, spiraling unemployment, reduction of dependency on debt; which leads to increased interest rate, increase productivity and industrialization. There was an observation that decentralization did not bring services closer to the people but actually, “decentralized corruption!” Its beyond the scope of the topic today to evaluate the pros and cons of a centralized corruption structure versus a decentralized corruption structure.

The greatest mischief in decentralization is the creation of political chiefdoms which are unproductive and a toil on the tax payer. To this juggernaut we have to add  wastefulness necessitated by the body politic. There is a lack of commitment by the body politic to toe the line of financial discipline which is the first step towards economic recovery. Preference being for quick fixes like the obnoxious Facebook/gossip tax and mobile money tax. These temporary fixes are mirages that will not solve the greater economic mire Uganda find itself in. The first step is discipline and the ability to read what we already have available to us in the apex white paper for economic strategy in Uganda NPD2. Whose theme, ” Strengthening Uganda’s competitiveness for sustainable wealth creation, employment and inclusive growth,’ resonates with the heartbeat of the country.

NPD2 identifies 5 priority areas: infrastructure, agriculture,  minerals, oil and gas and Tourism. We need to dig deeper into each of these elements in order to ensure that we leverage their latent capacity to empower Ugandans. Take for instance the dams we are building  what component of that is owned by Ugandan? Or is it a question of casual laborers and a few supervisors? Is there skills transfer to local contractors to build their capacities or have we left it all to economic mercenaries?

In agriculture what steps are being taken to drive to commercialization? How well are we positioning the agricultural sector to feed into the indigenous industrial sector?  How are we stimulating production and value addition? Have we worked on the marketing? The past leaders had Boards that managed marketing; what substitutes do we have for these interventions for bulking produce?

In tourism what is the capacity of our service providers? How do we manage our image as a country? What innovations do we have to strengthen the capacity of the sectors?

All these questions are not mathematical; commitment and a little discipline and the “bazukulu” enjoying the fruits of their labor will cause little dis-rest in the country.



The Fatalities of Boda-Boda and Kagame’s No-Nonsense

So, I dialed for Uber – Boda to get to the urgent destination in this city of Jenny. The guy comes and as I wait expectantly for the headgear, the chap kicks the starter and I make protestations demanding for a helmet. “Omanyi Bossi bu tissue byangwaako ...” (You know boss, the tissue got finished). In Kampala, finicky boda passengers demand a form of tissue head wrap that they put to prevent, one would suppose, diseases and disorientation of the hair with foreign or out landish oils and ointments. “Come off it I demanded for my head-gear and without the pomp of Kampalans protected my head.

In neighboring Rwanda, I believe that a bike is incapable of movement if any of the riders has not adorned a helmet. This law is true for both private and public service bikes. The moment you leg is over the seat of the bike the head gear is presented to you to fasten and strap; with or without head napkin tissue.

I tried to put this in context so that it could be clear to even the dimmest of wits. If, in absence of the headgear your precious hair comes to contact with the tarmac you stand to loose more than just hair; potentially skin, hair, and cracked bones. So how do you be so concerned, and wrapped up in your priorities that you would prioritize protecting hair over more delicate organs like skin and skull bones- be wise my friend.

A visit to the emergency ward would put one wise to the precarious situation that exists in today’s setting. Many an inmate therein wishes they had got their priorities right with the question of helmet or head gear tissue. Therefore comrades get the priorities in order; protect that head!


Some Quotes of Euripides

“Quos Deus vult pedere, prius dementat!” “Whom the gods want to destroy they first make mad!Thus spaketh the philosopher Euripides, a poet and philosopher of great  acclaim and foresight. This has been ably analysed posthumously and a pattern seems to show, with the unerring benefit of hindsight how great men motivated by madness sowed the seeds of their downfall and utter distraction. Examples are neither helpful or useful look for your selves in the annals and send me the examples yourselves.

Nobility is not necessarily an attribute of noble status.” Again the questions surmount on what then this attribute is of? How is it enduring, how can it be lasting like the handcraft of them that built the pyramids? How can we say there wanders a great nobility, even when he is bereft of his noble status? From which unquenchable well do we drink or partake of to attain this nobility. And yet it is true that some of noble status are a very manifestation of nobility.

“Do not mistake the rule of force for true power. Men are not shaped by force.” (Bacchae) This truism has been proved over and over again. When you trample on the rights of man, he will be persevering in his desire for revenge. Every night as he coils in his bed, he plots and plots and contends with the gods, that may be, to if not weaken Samson’s mighty arm, at least ensure he, Samson, is far from any potential jaws of the donkey. Thus the dangers of the execution of his hearts desire is rendered a lesser folly.

“I know indeed the fury I intend to do, but stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury, fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evils!” (Medea) Once the floodgates are opened, reason jettisoned from her throne hers is a single-minded for great evils on her mortal enemy. Blind fury as it were, the unrestrained avalanche of revenge.

Who knoweth of to die be but to live, and that called life by mortals be but death.” 

You will agree with me that this Euripides said some curious things; did he not? The reason am sharing with you will soon be revealed for the inevitability of the plot has the hall marks of a Greek tragedy. The symphony is clear and growing eerily clearer. The plot has: madness, men, power, life and death. And those are just the main ingredients.

Merging Authorities and Registering Motorcycles


The Writer in Elegu thinking about that which challenges our beloved country.

In the aftermath of high profile killings we have again been faced with a decree for the immediate registering of motorcycles. It is neither, useful nor ingenious, to state that all vehicles, and motorcycles, in the country are already registered with the Uganda Revenue Authority. We therefore await with abated breath to see how the registration will stem the wanton killings of Ugandans.

In the aftermath of the daylight murder of, then Assistant Inspector General Of Police Andrew Felix Kaweesi, a proclamation was made for the immediate installation of street cameras.  I have a bit of information in regard to cameras. Unless they be of the infrared variety, it is futile to imagine their singular installation in the dark streets of Kyadondo will yield any positive remit.

I once had my side mirrors ripped off on one of the streets in Kampala. That day I vowed to trace and identify the same culprits resting on the knowledge of some secret cameras whose existence had come to my knowledge. At time of examination of the cameras the darkness provided sufficient musk to the activities of car light thieves. Our valiant efforts came to naught.

Thus, these reactionary tendencies fell  and fall far short of the duties of our leaders to protect the life and property of Ugandans. The half-heart attempts will fall on barren ground.

Instead of registering motorcycles GOU ought to register guns! Why are we “round-a-bouting” over something as obvious as this? Indeed, the motorcycles have not been the instruments that are the cause of death. The lackadaisical way that guns are being handled is the root problem that needs to be dealt with. The movement of guns, who keep them and how they are controlled remain key for the security of our country.

Previously, in this blog we discussed the waste in the UMEME “value-chain” Generation, transmission, distribution, and retail all that are all companies with huge operational overheads which translate into the costs of power to users. Therefore the proposal to merge these entities is welcome and we hope that they translate into reduced costs of the unit to the consumers as well as real reduction in the commercial losses annually reflected in the books of accounts.

We invite the GOU to merge Ministries, Districts, RDCs, and the huge outlay of functionaries that are a huge costs to the tax payers. Let us commit to the protection of lives as enshrined in the Constitution.

For God and My Country.


“If you look at great human civilizations, from the Roman Empire to the Soviet Union, you will see that most do not fail simply due to external threats but because of internal weakness, corruption, or a failure to manifest the values and ideals they espouse.” Cory Booker
There is a sense of righteous indignation followed by condemnation on the perceived, real or otherwise, support by foreigners of the political movement dubbed people power. Why are these foreigners interfering with our internal matters? Such questions smack, not only of naivety, but are further tarnished by narrow mindedness and wistful thinking and dishonesty.

Foreign interests in our affairs have been manifested in various sector as witnessed by various interventions in the health sector, social economic sub-sector, policy considerations, human rights to mention but a few. Indeed, embassies are established to ensure continual engagements where positive ends are met. So the question is at what points do we draw the lines on interference, per se?

The circumstances are like a man who in a canoe decides to drill a hole right where he has put his feet; arguing that the hole is within his space and he owes no one further explanation! Unfortunately, the water that will enter the boat/canoe will segregate and bring a common sad end to all occupants.

In the conduct of their politics in the global arena, countries are bound by cords of entangled interests, conflicted loyalties in an ever changing political dynamic. The socialism that makes the gorilla remove lice and other bugs from their neighbors backs are the same instincts that enjoin us in the civility of the human race. We define for ourselves codes of conduct; in our relationships to one another and then to the wider world.

In our wider relations, nations have to be aware of the consequences of instability of one nation to its wider interest. Interests ranging from source of raw materials, labor, employment, social goals, influence etc. If a country one relies on were to be under civil strife, how would that affect its patron’s or ally’s interest at the world stages? To ignore these considerations would not only be disingenuous but also down right careless.

This is why it is important not to ask if Russians had an interest in American elections and would attempt to fulfill their ends and means; rather to ensure that, notwithstanding the Russian interests and actions, Americans interests and values take center stage during the electoral process. The Art War, by Sun Tzu, teaches us no to rely on the enemy no coming but that we have made ourselves unassailable; beyond the realm of attack- beyond the possibility of defeat.

The Passion of Bobi Wine.

This is a true recollection of the trials of Bobi Wine. I have not edited it and bring his word to you verbatim.


Fellow Ugandans, friends and well-wishers from around the world,

I am sorry, I have taken a bit long to write to you about the trials and tribulations, for which you all stood with me. It’s been tough days, as I recover from the physical and mental trauma I endured. I am overwhelmed by your support and words of encouragement. I cannot repay you in any other way, except sticking to those values which bind all of us together- justice, equality and human dignity.

I will be communicating more in the coming days and where possible send my appreciation to the different individuals and organizations. In this post however, I want to recount what exactly happened to me. I am very grateful to my wife Barbie, and my lawyers who narrated to the world these events, but I also wanted to tell this sad story PERSONALLY. I felt more compelled to speak out after reading the many posts written by President Museveni and other government officials about what happened.

I read the things they were saying while I was in detention, and found them absurd to say the least. I was shocked on how they tried to downplay the atrocities committed by security agencies on innocent citizens.
So let me set the record straight.

It was 13th August and it was the last day of campaigns in the Arua municipality by-election. As always we had a great campaign day. As I left the rally, I was convinced that our candidate Hon. Kassiano Wadri would win the election. So we moved from the rally at about 5:30pm and the people followed us, singing songs of freedom and chanting “People Power – Our Power.” Together with Hon. Kassiano and a few other leaders, we parted with the multitude, bade them farewell and went into Royal hotel where Hon. Wadri was staying.

We watched the 7:00pm news from the hotel lobby as we took tea and took stock of the day’s events. It was of course very exciting to watch that day’s news. The anchor said we were clearly ahead of the other candidates and the television relayed images of the massive rally and procession we had had on that day. Shortly after, I decided to move to Pacific hotel where I was staying so as to rest after the very busy day. It was at that point that I sat in my tundra vehicle, in the co-driver’s seat. The gentleman who was driving the tundra that day is one of our drivers (not Yasin). He moved out of the vehicle to call other team members who were supposed to drive with us. He took a bit long and I moved into my other vehicle (a land cruiser) which was right next to the tundra and whose driver was already seated on the driver’s seat. We immediately set off for Pacific hotel. I did not even see what happened after or how late Yasin ended up on my seat in the tundra. For clarity, he had been driving another vehicle that day.

I had started taking the stairs to my room when this driver came running to say that Yasin Kawuma had been shot. I could not believe it. I asked him where he was and he told me they were parked outside the hotel. We paced down and I saw with my own eyes, my friend and comrade Yasin, giving way as he bled profusely. I quickly asked a team member to take him to hospital and another to call the police. We had not stepped away from that place when angry looking SFC soldiers came, beating up everyone they could see.

As soon as they saw me, they charged saying “there he is” in Swahili. So many bullets were being fired and everyone scampered to safety. I also ran up into the hotel with a throng of people who had gathered around. Inside the hotel, I entered a random room and locked myself in. It is at that point that my media assistant shared with me Yasin’s picture which I tweeted because the world needed to know what was going on.

I could hear the people outside and in the hotel corridors crying for help. I could also hear the soldiers pulling these helpless people past the room in which I was, saying all sorts of profanities to them while beating them mercilessly.

I stayed in the room for a long time. At some point, I heard soldiers pull some woman out of her room and ask her which room Bobi Wine had entered. The woman wailed saying she didn’t know and what followed were terrible beatings. I could hear her cry and plead for help as she was being dragged down the stairs. Up to now, that is one experience that haunts me; that I could hear a woman cry for help, yet I was so vulnerable and helpless. I could not help her.

I stayed put for some hours, and I could hear the soldiers come every few minutes, bang some doors on my floor or other floors and go away. At different times I would sleep off, but was always rudely awakened by the banging of doors and the impatient boots that paced throughout the hotel for the whole night. In the wee hours of the morning, the soldiers started breaking doors of the different hotel rooms. With rage, they broke doors, and I knew they would soon come to my room. I therefore put my wallet and phone into my socks. I also had with me some money which I had earned from a previous music show. I also put it into the socks.

A few minutes later, a soldier hit my door with an iron bar and after two or three attempts the door fell in. We looked each other in the eye as he summoned his colleagues in Swahili. Another soldier pointed a pistol on my head and ordered me to kneel down. I put my hands up and just before my knees could reach the floor, the soldier who broke into the room used the same iron bar to hit me. He aimed it at my head and I put up my hand in defence so he hit my arm. The second blow came straight to my head on the side of my right eye. He hit me with this iron bar and I fell down. In no minute, all these guys were on me- each one looking for the best place to hurt. I can’t tell how many they were but they were quite a number.

They beat me, punched me, and kicked me with their boots. No part of my body was spared. They hit my eyes, mouth and nose. They hit my elbows and my knees. Those guys are heartless!

As they dragged me out of the room, they continued to hit me from all sides. After some time, I could almost no longer feel the pain. I could only hear what they were doing from a far. My cries and pleas went unheeded. The things they were speaking to me all this while, I cannot reproduce here. Up to now, I cannot understand how these soldiers who I probably had never met before in person could hate me so much.

They wrapped me in a thick piece of cloth and bundled me into a vehicle. Those guys did to me unspeakable things in that vehicle! They pulled my manhood and squeezed my testicles while punching me with objects I didn’t see. They pulled off my shoes and took my wallet, phone and the money I had. As soon as the shoes were off, they started hitting my ankles with pistol butts. I groaned in pain and they ordered me to stop making noise for them. They used something like pliers to pull my ears. Some guy unwrapped me and instead tied the thick cloth around my head. They forced my head below the car seat so as to stop me from shouting. Then they hit my back and continued to hit my genitals with objects. The marks on my back, ankles, elbows, legs and head are still visible. I continued to groan in pain and the last I heard was someone hit me at the back of the head with an object – I think a gun butt or something. That was the last time I knew what was going on.

By the time I became conscious again, I was somewhere in a small room with a small window. My legs were tied together with my hands with very tight cuffs. I was bleeding from the nose and ears. I was in great pain. My whole body was swollen. I was shaking uncontrollably.

Two soldiers came in. I can now recall that they were visibly pleased to see that I was still alive. They came close to me. One of them apologized in tears about what had happened. “Bobi, I am sorry but not all of us are like that. Some of us actually like you,” he said. He said that doctors were on their way to treat me. I stayed in the same position and after a few hours, about four soldiers came in and lifted me on a piece of cloth. One of them took a picture of me, (I hope to see that picture some day in my life). As we went out, I read “Arua airfield’ somewhere. I was taken into a waiting military helicopter and taken to a place which I later found out was Gulu 4th Division military barracks. It was at that facility that some military doctors came in and started giving me injections.

At that point I could not even complain as I was not yet fully alert. I was very dizzy and had not eaten or drank anything for many hours. My sight was very weak as well. I spent the night there. Late in the night, I was picked again from this detention facility. With my head covered with a dark cloth that felt like a t-shirt, I was taken to Gulu Police Station where I was forced to sign a written statement by an officer called Francis Olugo in the presence of some other officer who I later learnt is the CID head of Gulu. I can hardly recall what was contained in that statement! I was then returned to Gulu military barracks, put on a metallic bed and handcuffed on it. Very early morning, I was picked from this room and taken to another very secluded and dirty room where I was put on another bed, hand-cuffed again and injected with a drug that immediately sent me into a deep sleep.

The following day I can recall that at some point, Hon. Medard Ssegona and Hon. Asuman Basalirwa came to me. My efforts to rise and speak to them didn’t yield much. The moment they saw me, they could hardly hold tears. I have a faint recollection of what they told me, but their visit was very short.

I was later carried into a hall where I saw soldiers dressed smartly. I would lie if I said I fully appreciated what was going on at that point. I was later told that I was appearing before the General Court Martial!!!

After a short while, I was again carried into a military helicopter.

When it landed, I was put into a vehicle and driven to another place which I later found out was Makindye military barracks.

At Makindye, I was now fully alert and had a drink for the first time after two or three days. I saw doctors come in several times and they gave me all kinds of injections. At some point, I tried to object and these guys would hold my arms from behind and inject me anywhere. If I asked what drug it was, the guy would say something like, “This is diclofenac, can’t you see?” At some point, some guy came in and wanted to stitch my ear which had an open wound. I pleaded with him not to, and he relented. All the while I was spending the day and night with my hands and legs cuffed until a few days later. Thankfully although the scars are still visible, the wound on my ear healed.

It was after some time at Makindye that I was able to see my wife and my brother Eddy Yawe, who came in with some lawyers, some friends and dignitaries from the Uganda Human Rights Commission (UHRC). I will never forget the atmosphere in that room- people started crying upon setting eyes on me. At that point, I could not sit, walk or even stand by myself. I was still swollen and spoke with great difficulty due to chest pains. My teeth were shaking and the headache was unbearable. I am thankful that the UHRC made a report which I later read. At least it captured in part, the state in which they found me. As the government agency mandated to fight human rights violations, I am eagerly waiting to see what actions they will take to ensure that no Ugandan is taken through this ever again. Not even President Museveni. I cannot wish what happened to me upon anyone. Not even those soldiers who violated me as if they were beasts. I remember two other things about that visit. Despite the pain I had that day, I remember forcing a smile when they told me that I had been charged with unlawful possession of firearms.

I was told that three guns had been assembled and said to have been found in my room! I could not believe that the state would torture a Ugandan so bad and then frame him with possession of guns! I did not stop thinking about that for all the days I spent at Makindye. How ruthless, how callous, how inhumane could these guys be? It was also on that day that I was told about the alleged stoning of the President’s vehicle.

The other thing I remember is this- I asked my visitors if we had won the Arua election. They told me we had won with a big margin and I thanked God. That strengthened my spirit because I knew that the people were with us, even in the kind of sufferings and indignities we were being subjected to.

I was very sad as I am today, that they murdered my brother Yasin in cold blood and did not allow me to bury him. They told me about my other comrades who were also incarcerated and I kept praying for them. (Of course every visitor had to speak to me in the presence of military personnel.) Although I was very pleased to see all visitors, when I was released, I read the comments which some of the visitors made to the press (particularly government officials). I felt sad that we have a lot of dishonest, cold people who don’t care riding on someone’s tragedy for political capital. I want to believe that we are better than that, dear Ugandans.

Anyway, while at Makindye I was briefed that I was expected in court on 23rd August, about nine days after I was taken there. Some military doctors continued to come in to inject me, wash my wounds and give me pain killers. At night on two occasions, I was put into military vehicles and driven to Kampala Imaging Centre for scans. I could not object or even ask questions. I am worried because one of the machines seemed very dangerous. As soon as I was placed into it and it was switched on, the doctors ran to a safe distance and started seeing me from a small window. It was there that the radiologist told me how one of my kidneys and back had been damaged during the assault. I was however not given any written medical report by the military.

It was clear they wanted me to appear in better shape at the next time of my court appearance and they did everything possible to achieve that. A day or two at Makindye, this guy was candid. He told me it was in my interest to eat well, take in all the medicine and look better by 23rd or else they would not allow the press to see me and I would be remanded again until I was presentable enough! They even forcefully shaved my hair and beards. When I hesitated, this soldier told me, ‘gwe osaaga’ (You are kidding). Two of them held my hands from behind and shaved me by force. At some point, they insisted I must wear a suit for my next appearance before the court martial and asked me to tell my wife to bring me one. I also insisted that I did not have it. At another point I hesitated to allow some eye drops for my right eye which was very red and swollen. I always wanted to know what drugs I was being given. These guys held my arms from behind and one of them literally poured the entire bottle into my eye! Later, the military doctor also provided me with a crutch to aid me in walking. At that point, I was able to stand up, although with difficulty. When you hear all this you may think that all our soldiers are brutal. Far from that, most of them are wonderful people. There are many I interacted with during this ordeal who were extremely professional and sympathetic. It was hard to comprehend how people serving the same force, putting on the same uniform could be very different in appreciation and approach to a citizen of Uganda.

When I was taken back to Gulu on 23rd, I was very happy to see the people who came to court including family members, comrades in the struggle and lawyers. I cannot explain how I felt when the lawyer for the army said that charges of unlawful possession of firearms had been dropped. I did not feel vindicated. I was not excited. I was not moved. I just cannot explain how I felt. I just remembered what these people had done to me and tears came to my eyes. Shortly after, I was rearrested right in front of the courtroom and taken to Gulu prison. At the military prison, I was wearing a red uniform – this time, I was given a yellow one.

Friends, you cannot believe that you can be happy to be in prison but that day I was. I was very happy to leave solitary military confinement and meet up with colleagues who were being held at the Gulu prison. That night I was taken to Lachor hospital in Gulu- other tests and scans were conducted. At that point I was feeling better, especially psychologically since I had reunited with my comrades in the struggle.

Later that night the prison authorities decided to take me into the sickbay as opposed to staying with the other comrades. The other comrades led by Hon. Wadri protested. I could hear them bang the doors of their cell. The following day I was allowed to stay with them. The following day I was allowed to stay with them. This is when I interacted with the other 32 colleagues who had been arrested in the Arua fracas. Being in the same prison ward with Hon. Gerald Karuhanga, Hon. Paul Mwiru, Hon. Kassiano Wadri, Hon. Mike Mabike, John Mary Sebuufu and many other comrades made it feel like a boarding school. It was not a very happy reunion though. Because of the torture some of our comrades had been permanently injured. I cannot forget the pain which Shaban Atiku was going through. He spent every day and night groaning. The doctors had told him he would never walk again because his back had been permanently broken. Sadly, the world may never know him, but he will never go out of my mind. He would later collapse during a court session at Gulu. When I later met the women who were brutalised, it was very painful to see them and listen to their stories.

Many times we joked about the possibility of being hanged if the regime decided to give us the maximum penalty of the offence we had been charged with! This got many of our comrades silent.

Away from these sad moments, the overall prison leader had a box guitar in the ward and together we sang songs of freedom all night. This was the routine every night until we appeared before the Gulu High Court a few days later, for our bail hearing.

My next communication will be a vote of thanks to the world for the overwhelming support and comradeship. I will also talk about what I think we must do together to continue this struggle for liberty and freedom.

I am glad that authorities finally have bowed to your pressure and #HonZaake has been given bond to travel for urgent specialised treatment and I join the world to demand authorities to #FreeEddyMutwe and other political prisoners. WE SHALL OVERCOME.

1. Please ignore calls from my phone number (0752013306). It was taken from me by soldiers and am told they’re using it to call my friends pretending it is me.

2. Please ignore any communication from other social media accounts and pages under my name apart from this one (with a blue tick) and my verified twitter account (also with a blue tick).

Hon. Kyagulanyi Ssentamu aka Bobi Wine

Baptism of Fire and the Elephants Firewood

Over the last week the street of Uganda and the corridors of media all over the world has been flooded with horrendous tales of killing of Bobi Wine’s driver Yasin, torture, degrading and inhumane treatment of members of parliaments including: Hon Robert Kyagulanyi and Hon. Zaake Francis.  A lady who has since been identified as Night Asala was so brutalized that she was brought to court bleeding from her private parts!

This is the Uganda where we are today. Callous people have attempted to defend these acts which offend the dignity of our humanity, is injurious to the Constitutional rights and repugnant to the aspirations of our country. More than ever we exhort God in the refrain of our anthem, “Oh Uganda may God uphold thee, we lay our future in your hands!” We lay our future in God’s hand because the malady of man has taken us back to places in our dark history that we thought were well consigned to the dead past.

The history of the world is littered with episodes of madness. From the capital of France where Robespierre ruled with an iron fist, guillotining as many a people as he could, to the dark times of Hitler where Jews were exterminated in the Holocaust, to the Rwanda genocide, and in near times the madness of Saddam Hussein, Emperor Bokassa and Mobutu Tse Tse Seko.

The story of Emperor Bokassa is relevant for this narrative. He forced a couple of school children to purchase some uniforms from a company one of his wives owned. Resentment built in the children and apparently they took their wrath by stoning the Emperor’s passing motorcade. Over 180 children were arrested. Emperor Bokasa visited them personally in the prison and bludgeoned 5 of them with his ebony walking stick; of the 180 who were arrested only 27 survived!

As his power grew the King of Zaire Mobutu Tse Tse Seko Kuku Mbendu Wa zabanga tolerated no dissident. He publicly, in a football stadium for good measure, sent them to the gallows. In a warped sense of justice when they were arrested on May 30th, The Information Service of Congo announced their arrest as follows’ ” ..In the name of the government they will appear before a military tribunal, which will condemn them and they will be hanged!” The announcer was accurate and after their “not guilty” plea, not six minutes elapsed before they were matched to the gallows amidst great fanfare and hanged!

Students under Mobutu fared not much better. As a result of their constant bickering and riots he once forcefully conscripted the whole lot for compulsory military service. Here they learned discipline and obeying orders without question.

What is the purpose of all these dark tales? Why do we have to revisit these tales of doom that had better be consigned to the dark past? To this I have a ready answer, we seem to be forgetting the spirit under which the Constitution of 1995 was established.  The Constitution recalls our history which was characterised by political and constitutional instability, recognizes our struggle against the forces of tyranny, oppression and exploitation cemented our commitment to build a better future based on these principle: unity, peace, equality, democracy, freedom, social justice and progress.

If, as Ugandans say, they grew you well answer me what of those pillars manifested themselves when women are brought to courts bleeding through their private parts, Hon Members of Parliament are battered within an inch of their lives, a citizen is killed in broad day light and it is business as usual. If they did not grew you well please ignore my tirade.

None the less, when he comes out of this dark hour,we are cognisant of the idiom, “Lyec turu yen ma gi talo kwede.”(An elephant will be barbequed with the trees it broke that became firewood)  Hon Kyagulanyi will be emboldened to continue the struggle for the country. As he well said,  “…when leaders become mis-leaders, when mentors become tormentors, when freedom of expression is subject to suppression then opposition becomes our position!”