In his book, Betrayal in the City, Francis Imbuga says that “when the madness of an entire nation disturbs a solitary mind, it is not enough to say that the man is mad. “ I will prove to you why Imbuga’s famous quote holds credence. So on one of my escapades, I am in one of these polished suburbs on the outskirts of town. An area predominantly known for housing many of the “who-is-who” of Uganda’s social/economic/political/power classes. The top echelons of society. The men and women at the apex of the food-chain in this banana republic. The men and women who only take orders ”from above”. But that’s beside the point. That’s a discussion for another day. My mind is taken aback when from the vehicle in which I was, I observe a man—a youthful twenty or perhaps thirty-something year old without any iota of shame, urinating at a perimeter fence that has words boldly inscribed thus: “TOFUKA WAANO. TOSUULA KASASIRO WANO. FAYINI YA 500,000/=. Below it is another inscription. The English version that reads: DON’T URINATE HERE. DON’T DUMP RUBBISH HERE. FINE 500,000/=). The inscription is in both Luganda and English. I shake my head in the negative and silently question the logic of this man. Is he mad? Is he possessed? Doesn’t he know how to read? Is he doing it out of malice? Is he a goon? Does he have issues with the occupants of the posh house inside the perimeter fence?—A barrage of questions runs through my mind. I fail to contextualize out an answer that doesn’t defeat logic. Lucky for him, he is not spotted by the AK-47 yielding security guard otherwise I wouldn’t want to imagine what would have happened to him had he been spotted. He would now be in one of those dungeons cursing his mother for bringing him to planet earth. I mean, you do not urinate at the perimeter fence of a ruthless general and expect a soft landing. Lucky bastard. He got away with it. I move on. Back in town, with Francis Imbuga’s quote still resounding in my conscious, I decide to observe further. Much to my shock, I realize that many areas with similar inscriptions to the effect that “TOSUULA WANO KASASIRO. DON’T DUMP RUBBISH HERE” actually have piles of rubbish strategically dumped there. Why would someone, anyone of a sane mind and fully functioning mental faculties dump rubbish at a place clearly marked “DO NOT DUMP RUBBISH HERE “? In the afternoon, I’m in this taxi on the way from the old taxi park. We pass through Kisenyi. To my utter consternation, I observe a group of old women sorting leaves. Within the same vicinity, youthful men evidently high-on-some-sort-of-substance are buying the leaves. Others are chewing them. On further observance, I realize that it’s marijuana. Yes. Mari-effing-juana…! In open space. Broad day light. Selling. Buying. Chewing like nobody is watching. Like nobody cares. Like nobody gives a damn. I ask my neighbor whether it’s true what I’m seeing or I’m simply oscillating between phases of day-light-hallucinations. She’s shocked that I’m shocked. “It’s normal here. Marijuana and other narcotics are a source of livelihood for many of those women you see there. They do it in broad day light with no care. Even the Police are aware,” she says. “Abantu bakoowu,” she adds. Halfway the journey, we get caught up in this traffic jam. In front of us is this Porsche car with personalized number plates. I don’t pay much attention to it until its occupants decide to do the hitherto unthinkable. They throw used mineral water bottles and half-munched maize combs onto the street. I would imagine that by the time someone has worked their way to earn the kind of money that can buy such a luxurious car; they should have half-the-decency to uphold some basic etiquette. Why not wait and dump the rubbish at an appropriate place? I was to be proven wrong. I turned to my newly met friend—my neighbor. “Who does that?” I ask. “Abantu bakoowu, “she reiterates while smiling. “People are tired,” she adds. When I get home, I’m thinking the dramatic behavior of “tired people” as described by my “friend” is over for the day. I couldn’t be any more wrong. On watching a news bulletin on one of the popular local stations, I’m welcomed by another “tired” gentleman. A high ranking army officer. A brigadier to be specific. A man well known for his rather peculiar tendencies. This time he is threatening to unleash his dogs to any police officer who attempts to evict him from a controversial plot of land. The man goes to the extent of claiming that he will sleep in a tree to keep watch…!!! To add melodrama to his rather ludicrous utterances, he even starts barking in an apparent mimic of how his dog will unleash its fury on unsuspecting intruders on “his” land—madness of the highest order if you ask me. Later on in the night, upon reflecting on the events of the day, many similar situations of “madness” I have encountered in the past come to mind. I start recalling the numerous times I have seen people shamelessly walk on neatly mowed lawns even when there is a poster clearly marked “DO NOT TRESSPASS” I remember the numerous times I have seen around five people—an entire family—packed on a motor bike even when Police enacted a law that prohibits motor cycles (bodabodas) from carrying more than two persons . (I hope many of my Gujarat/Hindu speaking friends do not take offence to this….:)) I remember the numerous times I have seen people smoke in public places even when a ban was placed on this kind of smoking. I remember the vast amounts of polythene bags that are made both locally and also imported into this banana republic despite the fact that a ban was placed on such years ago. I remember the huge numbers of foreigners who enter this country under the guise of “investors” only to be found involving themselves in petty jobs like selling pancakes (I hope no Chinese friend of mine is reading this ) —jobs that ideally should be reserved for the natives I remember the chaos the punctuates the way this city is governed—No plans. Accusations. Counter accusations. Name calling. Intrigue etc. As I continue remembering, my mind gets weary and questions start forming and shaping. What went wrong? Are people really this tired? Why are so many people indifferent? Why are so many people amoral? Why do so many people care no more? Why have so many people become numb to the ideals and principles that a civilized society should espouse? Who should be blamed? Is it the common man on the street? Is it the peasant? Or should the blame be placed on the elite class? The movers and shakers of policies? I ask myself—why should I castigate the man who urinated at the fence or the ones who dump rubbish in prohibited places or the women who sell marijuana in Kisenyi or the boys who chew it for that matter? Why should I castigate the occupants of the Porsche car who decided to throw used mineral water bottles and half-munched maize combs onto the street? Why should I castigate the brigadier who sleeps in the tree with his dogs? Why should blame be placed on any of these when even the “fountain-of-honor” himself can afford to disregard institutions and a formal modus operandi and instead resort to carrying money in sacks distributing it however he wishes? Why should someone be blamed? Why should anyone be blamed? After all, “when the madness of an entire nation disturbs a solitary mind, it is not enough to say that the man is mad” For more of my escapades, visit my blog thelooseend.wordpress
Posted on: Tue, 27 Aug 2013 04:53:14 +0000
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