A great change is gonna come.
#March2Parliament: Even when under water, you need to come out and breathe. And boom, they said come Tuesday, we want to breathe. Somewhere, we want to smell what that Parliament smells, hear what it hears. We want to be up and about as Ugandans playing a part in this project called Uganda. And ready they prepared. Wueh, the deployment was serious. I said, what has happened to commander of the resistance?
Where do I begin today? How does this piece kick off? There is much in my head. Contradiction after contradiction. Nobody warned me about this adulting. That a major struggle would be the reconciliation of contradictions. These fires and waters, the colds and warms, the highs and lows, the beautiful and the ugly. How can this city be, all these contradictions? How can this country be, all these contradictions? See this week, the contradictions played out, full throttle. The kind that freezes you, jolts you into action, into all kinds of emotions, then you remember to sober up, lest the fox grabs you. Going forward, it seems no more, no more blinking. It is moving fast people.
But let us start somewhere, with my friend Joy. See, I used to be the party king of this city. The one that rowed across all the spots. I believe the big spirit is still in me. I have not lost the dance strokes. Nga Joy calls me and tells me, we should actually hang out. It has been long time no see, let us pick a spot somewhere in Ntinda and see how the generations are moving. See, when Kampala started the lounging nonsense, I retired from partying.
I want my body to move when I am out. Nataka action, Nataka movement. Friday comes, Joy confirms, I tell her, let me get home first. People, did I ever meet Joy? I woke up the next morning to her missed calls. I accepted that my enemies hate seeing my awesome dance moves. They feel threatened.
So, fast forward, Ogon was drawing attention. Then a friend called me to a spot in Muyenga where the Gen-Zs hangout. You see these Gen-Zs have gone heavy on karaoke and quiz night. I bumped into them, I saw these awesome kids, united by no party, no tribe, no spots, just the mere fact that they are Ugandans that occupy a certain age in time. And their sense of fashion, I could not. But they are awesome kids, taking care of each other, retiring home just in time. They are the same lot that made up the most of Kampala restaurant week.
Those same kids have also run great businesses underground. For most of the time, they have kept their heads hidden. Lest the heads come out and something slices it.
But then, even when under water, you need to come out and breathe. And boom, they said come Tuesday, we want to breathe. Somewhere, we want to smell what that Parliament smells, hear what it hears. We want to be up and about as Ugandans playing a part in this project called Uganda. And ready they prepared. Wueh, the deployment was serious. I said, what has happened to commander of the resistance?
Why would these young ones, no weapon, no party, just purity of ideas and spirit, why would they scare you naawe? No, the force was fully on. And they started picking, one by two, two by four, 20 by 50, at this rate, they will pick more than the GDP per capita. Then it started to hit close. These are our baddies. These are people we banter with. These are chaps we pop bottles with, the same we said, ‘parte after parte’ with. Wait, really? They have picked them. The spirits in them breaking. I could see the warfare, the old fearing the new. Fearing that something is ready for a rebirth. But then, yours truly, prophet he is, could see that these are all signs, that it has been long time, Sam Cooke says, a great change is gonna come.
I rarely smell things. But I am smelling something, something strong in the air. Everything different from usual. Do not think it is the same old thing. Because now imagine you pick handsome, intelligent, awesome Orte. You have not just hurt Orte. You are hurting his exes, you are hurting his mothers, you are hurting the lineage of his tens of tribes, his brothers, his sisters, his many relatives (many still to come if only income could move to a Luxury band). Why is it hammer every time for the nail? Why is it the same tools? Can’t you concede ko banange? Can’t you pretend ko? Same threat every time, will crush you, will crush you. Kale, will you crush age? Naye abiwuliira?
See, I had planned so many beautiful things this week. I wanted to tell you about my search for a lover from Paris, and the iceberg theory of Uganda. The Uganda that I have seen, and the unseen Uganda. And that the unseen Uganda controls the Uganda we see. So underground Uganda runs surface Uganda. A lot happens in underground Uganda. Underground Uganda is where your friend is building apartment blocks on a Shs1m salary and telling you ‘small boy, big God.’
In Uganda, everyone has three stories; a public story, a private story and a secret story. Trust me, the secret story is the real story. But I wonder, the one who rules us, what is his secret story? Anyway, our beautiful stories shall wait, these are not weeks of lakizale, mbu how do you eat omena in a house of luxury… Muse Muse weeh… obadeeki atawankanya Gen-Z obwongo? Okay people seriously, you have not listened to some Bob Dylan? You have not watched Stromae’s song, Formidable? You have not read Nietzsche or Dostoevsky? Okay, at least Satre, some French thinker. Je suis tres surprise!
Twitter: ortegatalks
