A leak in high places puts Ugandans on edge

Photo: Ronald Kabuubi/AFP/GettyImages

KAMPALA, Uganda — Kampala is in an uproar. The Ugandan government has just shut down four private media outlets — a move that follows a crackdown on journalists from the Daily Monitor newspaper a few days earlier. The government’s anger was prompted by a story in the paper said to reveal details of a plan by senior officials to assassinate rivals opposed to a scheme by President Yoweri Museveni to arrange for his son to succeed him in office. By exposing deep rifts within the ruling establishment, the paper has shaken Uganda’s political establishment to the core.

The Monitor quoted extensively from a letter by a senior intelligence officer, General David Sejusa, calling for an investigation into claims that the government is planning to target opponents of the so-called “Muhoozi Project,” an alleged plan to pave the way for 39-year-old Brigadier Kainerugaba Muhoozi (pictured left), commander of an elite army unit, to take over the presidency. The state-owned Uganda Communications Commission (which controls licensing) warned radio stations that they would be shut down for airing the story of Gen. Sejusa’s letter.

Read more: Transitions

Writing on the next big thing: My novel in progress, A Lesson in Forgetting

Jo-Anne Richards, author of The Imagined Child, invited me to participate in the The Next Big Thing Challenge. I am inviting other writers to participate in this challenge; Benon Herbert Oluka,  Mildred Kiconco, Beverley Nambozo, David Tumusiime and Brian Bwesigye

Ten Interview Questions for the Next Big Thing 

What is your working title of your book?

A Lesson in Forgetting

Where did the idea come from for the book?

After reading an article about the presidential pardons and subsequent releases of former henchmen during Idi Amin’s time, I was curious about the reasons for their acceptance of the pardon and how their return would affect the families who had lost their loved ones during this time.

What genre does your book fall under?

Fiction

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I have not yet thought about the movie cast for the book.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

A former spy chief in a dictatorial regime is released after 25 years in life imprisonment. His return reawakens a country’s amnesia of the past and explores how nations and its people helplessly deal with the mechanisms set up to handle past atrocities and heal wrongs.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? 

By agency

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

It is a work in progress. I have been working on it intermittently since 2010.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Thomas E Kennedy’s, In the Company of Angels.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

I read newspaper reports on the release of former spy masters in Uganda who had been serving life imprisonment. Their release raised debate in the country on the morality of their release and what it meant for fragile healing the country was going through to forget its atrocious past. I was curious to capture this event in our history.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

A Lesson in Forgetting unlike numerous stories that locate the isolating impact of warfare upon wives, lovers and /or mothers, addresses the relation within the family, in this case father and daughter.

 Full synopsis of A Lesson in Forgetting

Sometimes families keep secrets in the belief that they are protecting their loved ones. Sometimes these secrets are too big to remain hidden forever. They burst open and come to haunt the protectors and protected…

A Lesson in Forgetting unlike numerous stories that locate the isolating impact of warfare upon wives, lovers and /or mothers, addresses the relation within the family, in this case father and daughter.  The story revolves around Nasser, a former henchman in Idi Amin’s Uganda, who is released from prison twenty-five years after he was arrested and sentenced to death, and his feisty daughter Naboro, who was always told that her father had died a hero. Set in the backdrop of the 2006 presidential elections, Nasser’s release is part of the incumbent president’s attempt to improve his tarnished image within the international community. Nasser on return from the ‘dead’ attempts to build a relationship with his daughter, he must face and own up to his past crimes against humanity. His return disrupts the peaceful life his daughter is building for herself as she readies for her wedding. Her mother announces that her dead father is no longer dead but rather returning from prison. Naboro has to deal with the blow of the lie her life has been built around. Furthermore everyone else has been in the know of the closely guarded secret. As she comes to terms with the fact that her father was a man scorned and feared by many Ugandans, she learns that her fiancé’s family was a victim of her father’s brutality. Torn between her love and family ties, she follows in her mother’s footsteps, who got estranged from her family when she married Nasser. Her fiancé is pressured by his family to break off the wedding plans. She is devastated because his return is the cause of her breakup with her fiancé. The story explores Nasser’s life in the army, what motivates him and his loyalty to Idi Amin, Zahara’s love story and the decision to keep the truth of his incarceration from Naboro the last child born immediately after his arrest.

It explores Zahara’s loyalty to Nasser all these years because he helped her live her dreams of being a fashion designer. He opened doors for her and did not laugh at her when no one believed that designers could make a living in the Uganda of the 60s. She is selectively blind to her husband’s deeds although she knows that times are bad. She is silent about the mass disappearances and buries herself in her fashion world. On return from prison, Nasser asks his wife for forgiveness. On return he is a more religious man and wants to impose his beliefs on the family he finds behind. His transformation from an all powerful torturer to a religious man does not endear him to Naboro, who has read a lot more about her father’s deeds in the papers.

His return reawakens a country’s amnesia of the past and explores how nations and its people helplessly deal with the mechanisms set up to handle past atrocities and heal wrongs. The story brings the family into the larger context of a nation having to move on from legacies of past conflict, but with the ethical dilemmas of having to ask how one lives on, at the level of dailiness, with the knowledge of what a neighbour, a family member, is capable of in the name of ideology. How do communities, nations, and families live with people caught up in political fervour to the point of perpetrating crimes against humanity? What does one do with the ‘ghosts’ of national violence? These people inhabit the everyday, and their presence is a reminder of the limits one should not cross in the name of ideology and they are a source of acute guilt and grief, confusion when they are loved ones as will be explored in this novel. The novel explores the silences of parents and children, what they know and hide from their children because of the consequences they know might affect the stability in their lives. The silences in the book will work as metaphors for the larger struggle to find a language with which to address one another when an agent of such violence reappears to take his place in the everyday.

Dreaming of a new Jerusalem

FAITH (not her real name) is in her 20s, tall and slender. She wears a red T-shirt. A checked cotton skirt peeps out from under the threadbare maroon towel wrapped around her waist. Her blue-cloth shoes have seen many washing days. She carries her 21-month-old daughter in one arm and clutches a phone in her free hand. Faith has lived in Jerusalem, an informal settlement between Boksburg and Germiston, since 2006, but only started playing Fafi last year.

She is one of many. Gloria Azwidohi Ramasunzi, 52, one of the first residents and proprietor of the only crèche in the settlement, says Jerusalem was created in 1998 after the Jordan Mining Company closed. Ramasunzi came to Jerusalem in May 1998 from Goodhope. “People said Jerusalem had space. So we came and started to build shacks.” The shacks are made of old bricks, iron sheets, car tyres, cardboard and whatever materials the residents come up with.

There are salons, a metal furniture shop and spaza shops. There is no electricity. Many of the women who have no jobs make a little money through gambling. Faith speaks softly when she talks about the Fafi numbers game. “Fafi or the China Game is about a Chinese girl who used to gamble with black p e o p l e ,” she says. Players choose which numbers to gamble based on what they dreamt the night before. A group representative takes the bets in one bag to the “China Man”, or “Fafi ”, as they call him.

“He comes at 12.30pm and at 5pm,” says Faith. “We bet on numbers ranging from 1 to 36. He gives  number and each person who wrote the winning number wins.” From memory, she recounts the numbers and their meanings, giving insight into the dreams of those who play: “1. King. 2 Monkey. 3. Big Water. 4. Dead. 5 Tiger. 6. Cow. 7. Knife. 8. Pregnant woman. 9. Hat or blood. 10. Eggs. 11. Small car. 12. Dead woman. 13. Big fish. 14. Granny. 15. Bitch. 16. Cloth. 17. A beautiful woman. 18. Silver money or gold. 19. Girls. 20. Cat 21. Elephant. 22. Big car. 23. Horse. 24. Mouth. 25. Big house. 26. Soldier. 27. Police. 28. Shoes. 29. Small water. 30. Pastor. 31. Fire. 32. Money. 33. Boys. 34. Fees. 35. Hole. 36. Gun.”

“When I dream about my father,” she says, “I know that when Fafi comes, I will write 1 or 4 or 30. I choose the numbers that represent my dad.” Bets and payouts are limited, she says. “If I bet five bob [50 cents] and my number is the one Fafi says, then I win R14. If I bet with R2, Fafi pays me R56 if I win. (Read full article: Dreaming of a new Jerusalem March 3 2013 )

Homeless: Sleeping outside, in silent protest

First published in the M&G online on January 31, 2013:

Following the police incidence in which, Mido Macia, a Mozambican taxi driver was dragged on the streets of Johannesburg and later died from his injuries, I repost an article I published early in the year based on interviews with homeless migrants in Pretoria and their interactions with the South African police and other institutions.

Nasfim Kapley, a migrant from Ethiopia, indicates the spaces he navigates in Pretoria.
Photo: Jackee Budesta Batanda

We first meet Patrick Naimana on a Tuesday evening at a soup kitchen outreach with staff from the Tswhane Leadership Foundation. We ask him whether we can meet with more of his colleagues for an interview. He agrees to set up the meeting.

Home for Naimana and his colleagues is a car park on Prinsloo Street next to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) offices on Francis Baard Street (formerly Schoeman Street). This is the first stop for the soup kitchen van after it leaves the foundation’s premises.

A man emerges from the shadows and comes to the van when we park. He says he will run and alert the others. The lilt of his voice makes me know that he is from Uganda. I can trace that accent anywhere. I learn his name is John.

John returns with five men. One of them, Mohammed, stands tall and distinguished. He softly requests for two soup bowls. We want to chat with him but he is hesitant to talk. He asks if we can return another time. He tells us to ask for Mohammed. He says he is from Somalia and has to rush back to his ailing brother. His brother, he says, is sick and is lying under a tree. He needs to take him food. He dashes off into the darkness.

Naimana interjects that the metro police beat up Mohammed’s brother. He is too weak to walk but is getting better he says, but needs prayers. We promise to say a prayer for him.

We schedule an interview and exchange numbers with Naimana. He tells us to be in Pretoria at 6am before everyone leaves in search for the day’s meal. We agree to have breakfast with them.

Breaking the news
On the Friday morning, when we arrive at the car park a little after 6am, we find that Naimana has spoken to his colleagues about us as promised. We have carried breakfast to share with the group. We set up the picnic basket and put clothes on the grass which will serve as our mats. Breakfast is tea, coffee, a mix of vegetable and meat sandwiches, and apples.

Naimana breaks the news to us. He says there was a police operation the previous night and some men were captured and will be deported. John, the Ugandan, was among those captured.

He adds that Mohammed’s brother died on Wednesday night, just after our first visit with the soup kitchen outreach. Mohammed cannot take part in the group session. We offer him tea and he goes away. We sit in silence. We finally learn his brother’s name: Abdi Rashid.

Nasfim Kapley, a migrant from Ethiopia breaks the silence. He blames the metro police for indiscriminate abuse.

“They come here. It’s very cold at nights and the only blanket you have, they come and take it to be burned or put in their car,” he says.

He adds that sometimes when the police bloodily assault the migrants, they do not take them to the police station.

 Read more: Mail&Guardian Online

Rwandair successfully sabotaging its own grand plan to become the aviation leader in the region

I had heard so much from friends and family about Rwandair’s good deals. The Rwandan national carrier is fast becoming a favorite of many travelers on a budget. When my big sister, Gertrude, visited me in Johannesburg last November, she came aboard Rwandair and loved it. She had been upgraded to business class on the Kigali-Johannesburg leg of the trip. Jealous, right? I surely was.

So when I got my South Africa visa renewed on 10 Jan 2013, four days to my proposed date of travel, Rwandair was my preferred carrier of choice. I skipped from the South Africa High Commission on Nakasero Road down to the splash Rwenzori Courts, where the Rwandair offices are located, as catalogued in the Eye Magazine. And when I got there, the ticket cost me $565. It was a fabulous deal, I paid on spot and prepared for my night flight.

I have since learnt to travel light, and in this case, light means carrying one slightly over weight suitcase. Yes, I am known to travel with no less than 3 huge suitcases. So doing one is a mighty downgrade. I gave myself points for fitting my life over the next 15 months in Johannesburg into one bright orange Gino De Vinci suitcase.  Life was good.

After hours of waiting, transit and eventual travel, we landed at the OR Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg at the scheduled time- 5:30am on Tuesday morning. Tired from the flight and reeling from lack of sleep, we filed out of the plane and headed for the immigration desks. Once we completed with immigration, we moved to carousel 2 where the Rwandair baggage would come through. The carousel slowly spat out the baggage. It made a low humming sound as it made the rounds laden with bags. We crowded around it waiting for our luggage. No one seemed to be picking up their luggage, yet the carousel kept spilling out more and more bags.

Celebrating ordinary Ugandans doing extraordinary things

Photo by MICHELE SIBILONI/AFP/Getty Images

Now that 2012 has come to a close, I can say that it has been an interesting year for Uganda, with the country experiencing some of the greatest highs and lows in its history. The country just buried a young woman member of parliament from the ruling party, Hon. Cerinah Nebandah from the Butaleja District in Eastern Uganda, who died under mysterious circumstances. Her suspected poisoning has strongly divided the nation. The official government autopsy report claims she died from a drug and alcohol overdose, but her family and legislators have rejected the findings. The debate, however, does bring to the fore the alcohol and drug problem in Uganda, which society has failed to acknowledge as a deeply entrenched problem among young people. What I see, above all, is the loss of one of Uganda’s most vibrant young politicians. For many young people, the 24-year-old Nebanda represented a new political force that could potentially cleanse the ruling National Resistance Movement (NRM) party from within.

Read more: Transitions

Uganda celebrates its tech entrepreneurs

 

Photo credit: Teamcipher256

Three students from the Makerere University College of Computing and Information Sciences have won the Microsoft Imagine Cup Grant worth $50,000 for their project WinSenga, a smartphone app that performs ultrasounds on pregnant women and can detect problems like ectopic pregnancies and abnormal heartbeats. The winning, Team Cipher256, consists of Aaron Tushabe, Joshua Okello, and Josiah Kavuma. The Daily Monitor reports:

Apart from the cash prize, the three will receive software, computing services, solution provider support, access to local resources, among others. Microsoft will also connect grant recipients with its network of investors, NGO partners and business partners and will work with the grant recipients to tailor individual support as needed depending on the progress each team has made so far with its project. The program is expected to reduce the maternal mortality rate, which currently stand[s] at 16 mothers a day in Uganda…

The purpose of the Imagine Cup is to bring together and support student innovators from all over the world. These days many Ugandans are choosing to focus their endeavors on mobile technology. Mobile technology is one of the fastest-growing industries in Africa, and young Ugandan techies are tapping into this potential. Telecommunications companies like Orange Uganda have held competitions to encourage the creation of mobile phone applications. Every year, Orange Uganda organizes the “Community Innovations Awards”, a competition which recognizes the most impressive ideas in mobile app developments. These awards allow young developers in Uganda to create new technologies that can be used in agriculture, health, or education.

Read more: Transitions

What Uganda can do to end the crisis in Congo

L-R: President Paul Kagame of Rwanda, President Yoweri Museveni of Uganda and President Joseph Kabila of Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) at a press meeting in the Ugandan capital Kampala to discuss a solution to the M23 rebel group and the escalating conflict in eastern DRC
Photo: Peter Busomoke/AFP/Getty Images

Last week the UN finally released a controversial report that accuses Uganda and Rwanda of supporting rebels in the neighboring Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). When a leaked version of the report first appeared in October, Uganda’s Army spokesperson, Felix Kulayigye dismissed it: “It’s hogwash, it’s a mere rumor that’s being taken as a report,” he told Radio France Internationale. “It’s undermining the credibility of the mediator which is Uganda, and when you undermine the credibility of the mediator you are actually undermining the entire process.”

The Wall Street Journal reported that Uganda has threatened to respond to the charges by withdrawing from its African peacekeeping missions in the DRC, Somalia, and the Central African Republic.

The paper quoted the Ugandan Foreign Ministry as follows: “Uganda’s withdrawal from regional peace efforts, including Somalia… would become inevitable unless the U.N. corrects the false accusations made against Uganda.” In addition, a delegation of Ugandan officials held talks with individual members of the UN Security Council in early November to protest the allegations in the UN report.

In May, Aljazeera’s Nazanine Moshiri visited a base of the M23 rebel movement in eastern DRC near the Rwandan border. The rebels told her that they were fighting because the Congolese government had failed to meet its obligations outlined in the peace accords.

Read more: Transitions

On the streets, Rocky and Lacosta dream of a music career

Sylvester Masiba (Rocky) and Lucky Ndaba (Lacosta) have been brought together by a mutual love for music.
Photo: Jackee Budesta Batanda

Sylvester Masiba (27), whose music name is Rocky, is one of the homeless migrants who go to the Tshwane Leadership Foundation every day for breakfast. He also benefits from the Tuesday evening soup kitchens. We first meet in the Foundation dining room, where we wait for other homeless men to come and participate in the research.

Donning a dirty cream hooded sweatshirt and black jeans, Masiba carries an air of confidence. He asks to know what the program is about. I explain to him that we are interested in having a conversation about their experiences on the street and to assess their vulnerabilities.

Masiba looks me straight in the eye and says that being on the street does not mean that they have no dreams or wishes.

Read more: Mail & Guardian

Are Ugandans reaching the breaking point on corruption?

Photo by Kasamani Isaac/AFP/GettyImages

The Daily Monitor managing editor and columnist, Daniel Kalinaki, deftly captures the state of Uganda’s corruption in a poignant opinion piece he’s just published in the paper. The title says it all: “Uganda used to have thieves, now the thieves have Uganda.” He writes about the sky-high level of official corruption and how it has become an institutionalized phenomenon. Kalinaki’s piece neatly expresses what a lot of Ugandans have been thinking, and it’s become a favorite in online discussions. As for me, I agree with Kalinaki that the thieves have Uganda by the balls.

The recent high-profile scandals involving mass embezzlement of funds in the Office of the Prime Minister scandal make one weep. The worst part is that money donated for disaster relief and post-conflict reconstruction was channeled into personal accounts — even while the Ugandan media reports everyday on destitute people in need of all forms of assistance.

Read more: Transitions