But some freshers! What is taking you to the library in these first weeks?
There was a time things worked well in Kampala. As a school child, you could get away with everything. And we surely did. From calling 999 at the Post Office, and pulling pranks on Fire brigade, the world was our oyster. Of course, we also paid for it
If there is one city I really know in and out, it is Kampala. For seven years, I walked through this city as a pupil at Shimoni Demonstration School; from playing in the lifts at Post Office, Uganda House, to walking through the golf course like we owned it. In the evenings we played soccer at the subway next to Parliament.
Life was good; we knew it was impossible to get knocked on a zebra crossing. We thus kept teasing vehicles on the road to see how good their brakes worked. At National Theatre, we would pop in, and watch plays for free. Then, you had to pay nothing as a student to access these places.
Something worked well in Kampala, and thus was trust and love for school children. As a school child, you could get away with everything. And we surely did. From calling 999 at the Post Office, and pulling pranks on Fire brigade, the world was our oyster. Of course, we also paid for it. People such as Ssewungu (currently a member of Parliament), Salanza, Kafeero and the likes never stopped ambushing us. But we were just children.
Last week, some demon came over me that sent me looking for the famous text by Mugenda and Mugenda (2003). It is the most cited not just in East Africa but probably in the whole of Africa. I thus dedicated a day to looking for this text. I started my journey at Kyambogo University. I went to one of the libraries and made my case. The attendant there at first was hardened, and he kept teasing most freshers. But some freshers! What is taking you to the library in these first weeks? Moreover, with the current online resources.
Anyway, Kyambogo did not have the text. I jumped into a taxi at Banda stage. Some old gentleman using a kaswaaki was on phone with a client (someone called Esther). He kept assuring her that he is on a boda boda and would be right with her in a few minutes. We could not hold our laughter in the taxi. Because hardly had he said he is on a boda boda than another passenger said, “conductor ku stage.”
I jumped out of this taxi around Nakasero market. Back then as a child, I used to pass these streets early in the morning. I saw many things as a child. I saw the ladies of the night; I saw the traders. One morning, I remember waking up to a lady who had been shot dead by her husband. I was traumatised. Above Nakasero market, somewhere around Akaboozi is the famous bookshop street. It used to have all the books. I kept asking for Mugenda and Mugenda and none of them had it. One of the attendants exclaimed; “Naye Mugenda nga siwa myaka gyo.” I confirmed that indeed my anti-aging recipe is working. Apparently, I come off as a ka young handsome teenager. I took the compliment, but I was annoyed. How could Mugenda and Mugenda be this scarce?
I proceeded to Uganda Bookshop. Surely some miracles should happen here. Wapi. From this street, I began meeting lawyers in suits. Some heading for lunch, others frustrated with their files. Mbu some law firms give new hires a ka-mattress as part of orientation. Gone are the days when lawyers, doctors and engineers were the nobles of this country.
As I made the trek to that Uganda Public Library, I came across some rubbish being burnt around Constitutional Square. I was tempted to record a video. But then, I could not risk with the yawning officers in the square. I passed George Street and met more lawyers in suits. They are always visible. Just before the public library, I spotted a local foods restaurant. I kept it in mind. At the public library, the lady first ignored me. She was making her lunch order. Then she asked; “Did Mugenda deposit her book here?” I told her surely the most cited text in Africa must have a place here. She went ahead to search, and it returned null results.
I took my disappointment to the Halal food restaurant. Again, I met more lawyers. Only lawyers have been left in Kampala. I overheard one of them tell another; ‘gwe the citation is more important than even the content.’ When the waitress spotted me, she used some awesome words. She kept addressing me as ‘baby’. ‘Baby tulinayo enyama mu kinyebwa’ ‘baby kandette emeere’. Was this now about me? Or it is just the customer care here. I cannot wait to go back to this place for a meal. Anyway, I paid the meal. And I wondered whether to proceed to Makerere for the final disappointment.
I chose to jump into the next taxi to Ntinda. These days, instead of Lugogo, Nakawa, Ntinda, it is now China Town, Nakawa, Ntinda. In the taxi, one of the ladies kept complaining to her friend about the men these days. Mbu a man who cannot even take you on a date, yet he stays in an apartment of one million. Kojja Kuteesa must revise his syllabus.
Although I failed to land on Mugenda and Mugenda (2003), I had renewed my love for Kampala. I could imagine the voters choosing to give me this ka city for one term. I could bring back all my Shimoni alumni and we would do wonders with the city. Because we have the blueprint. People, trust a Shimoni OB or OG for this job. Wama Mr Kigozi, didn’t you teach me enough science for me to save this city?
Only a Shimoni Dem OB or OG Can Save Kampala City
X: @ortegatalks
