Story · Zenji

The System

It is hard to fight a system. Everyone who has worked in a bureaucracy will tell you that the system is a Goliath only few can defeat. It is not just found in the highest forms of bureaucracy, say in a government office, it is in any form of organisation- in families and in companies, any group of people who have the same objective and are tied by purpose, gain, chance or birth to pursue it together and whose behaviour directly affects the wellbeing of the other.

So, while it might be hard to fight a system, it is even more difficult to fight a culture. A culture is usually unwritten but heavily entrenched. It is the go-to where there is a lacuna in the system. It fills in the answer when there is no one looking, no one auditing, no one caring. A culture is usually not what the mission and vision say, the principles recited or written on the notice board. It takes time to understand a culture when you are from the outside coming in. Usually, you either adopt it or become a misfit, a sour loser.

Who creates culture? Is it the top or the bottom, the leader mirroring people or people mirroring leader principle? Is it the first arrivals or the ones who silently adhere to what they find? A coerced approval or a tacit one. Is it the ones who sit with quiet power yielding the most damning pronouncements on others while yelling loud hellos or is it the ones who don their power like an extra-large clock sweeping with dust whoever queries or comments about anything concerning their use and misuse- the ones who use it to settle personal squabbles. Or, is it the ones who watch everyone, knowing everything and how it operates, whom it disadvantages and who it benefits* the most, and hold their peace knowing that they have the power to change things? Is it the threat of war or the peace of the status quo that keeps them voluntarily numb and mute?

In terms of the ordinary way of things changing, our country is changing too. We seem to be becoming more international, and not just on the streets of Kabalagala. I have been seeing white skinned people buying from our local shopping malls, Asian people at small takeaways by the roadside, a young Chinese girl on a scooter on a hot Sunday in Namugongo and a teenage white skinned boy and girl trekking the ‘un-white’ suburbs behind Bukoto. Until recently, there seemed to be an unspoken culture that some places were only for certain races, some clinics only for expatriates and only one hill selling all the meat, wine and cheese of that same community. [Is it the decreasing race-culture gap that TikTok and YouTube shorts have successfully influenced? We all seem to relate to each other’s jokes and childhood. And on that note, who will fix the childhood trauma that our parents carry and distribute in small doses?]

I reminisce and have written about my experience of finally coming face to face with the race equation and our very low place in the eco-pyramid. Before that, I had seen only very few white skinned people up-close (a few metres away)- one at a primary school assembly teaching us Christian songs while playing the guitar and another one in A-level, preaching to us about the biggest evil in the world- the idea of socialism. The others were the ones on the street in multicoloured clothing and slippers, but always, they were too different to be a part of our world as more than just anthropological observers. Now, we are about to bump into each at the Bank like we do with the Chinese who carry huge laptop bags of cash. I don’t know if anyone has told them that it is not safe to do that here.

The World Before

Besides the shirt-less Sezangakhona and the seduction by power and majesty in Dingiswayo formerly known as Godongwane, keeping the ways of the world before the first missionary and the first coloniser came, a strange mystery, the new MultiChoice series Shaka iLembe has led me into the intrigues of the culture and system of life in which our ancestors lived; a world where our biggest enemy was each other – the clan next door, the tribe with a different [but related] language. How we slaughtered each other! Happily, literally and with no need for a reason.

Some people view the past only with the lens of the present without allowing the passage of time, the knowledge and influence of other ways of life and the imposition of new things. One of those is that since the coming of the first missionary, a large group of Africans now find their names weird and are only going by their English names. [I thought the name Dingiswayo may have been made up by my ‘SouthAfrican History’ teacher] I heard that some of our names are connections to the spirit world, but then I heard the ‘English name’ of Johnny Depp’s Lawyer being Rottenborn, and he seems to be doing well for himself.

Was colonialism really our biggest setback or was it the thing that exposed our biggest weaknesses – our inability to be or live as a united front, our inability to allow enough peace to enable our minds to wander off and think about digging out large chunks of earth and replacing them with structures which we could walk upright in or maybe even think about creating atomic bombs that we could use to destroy the entire earth?

It seems to me that we had a culture of war, of miscommunication, mistrust, of greed, betrayal -but then again what were Elizabeth I and Queen Mary of Scots fighting about? Who was bloody Mary? Is it because they wore more clothing or that their names don’t need vowels in between that it is their story, culture and system that is more glorified? Or is it just plain simple, they are the conquerors and we are the conquered?

Either way, we may need to reorganise the smaller systems that we actually do influence. Possibly we could start with our minds- an honest candid internal monologue [Some people’s culture of only speaking behind turned backs might lead them to deceive and disparage their own selves].

I am here because someone related to me lived more than 1000 years ago. My lineage can be traced to the beginning of humanity.

I heard my 5 year old recently say that chicken come from eggs. I guess he has solved the chicken egg causality dilemma?

There are some people who have never actually walked on the streets of Kampala; literally ever walked on a street in Kampala. They are chauffeured to the door step of their every destination. There are others who know the ins and outs of Kamwokya dancing Kadodi on top of cars attracting massive acclaim from their peers.

Why does meat, according to The Food Network, have to fall off the bone and melt in the mouth? Don’t we have teeth?

Sometimes we expect friendship from colleagues, intimacy from friendships and loyalty from situational relationships. That is the definition of disappointment, expecting more from less and expecting more from people to whom you are less.

The term ‘we are pregnant’ is so misconceived, honestly! He brought the seed, it met with an egg, travelled to a uterus, through fallopian tubes, grew and somersaulted (my experience) from a dot to a baby. How is he pregnant too? You can both be having a baby but you definitely, are not both pregnant.

Ugandans and using the word ‘apparently’ inappropriately…”Apparently [meaning currently], I’m a photographer…” Are you or are you not? Or do you not know either? Don’t use the word.

*benefitting- is that an English word or is it like the word ‘paining’. Our Ugandan way of making nouns into verbs remains. Is ‘un-plaiting’ a real word?

Why don’t we use the word film anymore?

Zenji

The Great Lakes Area

Someone decided that the Karimojong needed iron sheets in order to develop, and then some others decided that they needed them more. The insatiable greed among the inhabitants of the great lakes area and its surrounding areas is a good topic for a research thesis. There must be a psychological disorder of perpetual mental state of scarcity and a propensity to waste the same coveted resources among the creatures who inhabit this place.

If you ever travel northwards towards Chobe and Para, one of the main reasons (if you are not returning home) you would be visiting is not because of the towering shiny glass buildings, pollution and traffic jam. You would mostly like be visiting for a view of undisturbed nature- for Rothschild (adopted name) giraffes, elephants and antelopes. Among other beautiful things you would come across would be a building style that is quickly becoming extinct. Low height, circular, ‘hand-crafted’ intricately designed structures with an elaborate thatch roof top are scattered around an endless patchwork of green grass. When I visited, that is something that I had never seen. It is also something that my little ones may never see.

If we had colonised the world, weaves, wigs and straight hair would not connote professionalism or formality. We should always question our need to throw iron sheets on top of one of the few cultures that refuses to be subdued by ‘modernity.’ Not all things traditional are good. Tradition is like most things, some good, some bad and you have to choose which to keep and which to learn from. But, somethings were purely made out of an indigenous thought for an indigenous landscape. Some of our ways are an identity being lost in decades at a time. We do not need everything about us to only be found in a dilapidated museum, stale and inspected only in front of safe glass screens.

What did the mass manufacturer of iron sheets tell the owner of a grass thatched roof? If the mark of an exclusive eco resort is that it can afford to maintain a thatched roof and the Karimojong with their ‘limited’ resources can handle the thatch of their own roofs, why donate iron? Maybe an iron roof at 35 c is not such a good idea. Maybe glinting iron at eye level is neither good for humans or cattle.

I read in the Newspaper, when the Old Taxi Park was being rehabilitated that Kampala road was probably designed for fifty European cars more than sixty years ago. It seems therefore that we should not be praying for more cars, but we should design a more intricate, climate friendly, pro-efficient, time saving transport that caters to more than just people who can survive the ASYCUDA system. If everyone in Wakiso owned a car, how long would it take you to reach Kampala on a rainy Tuesday morning if you got out of bed at 5:00 a.m.? It took two and a half hours today.

I think nomadic pastoralists might need land security and pasture more than they need modern markers of ‘development’. We, down here by Lake Victoria (near the rift valley that is splitting into another continent in the next hundred thousand years), need roads and transport more than we need more gigantic fuel guzzling second hand cars. The markers of our identity and development have been decided by people who benefit the most from the scarcity which only they can cure.

…kitt kiarie on her youtube vlog was asking, Where did the fireflies go? I too would like to know.