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The tale of Nsambya’s furniture mart

Twaha Muwanga stands by some of the furniture on display. Soon the carpenters will have to relocate. Below, customers from all walks of life come to buy furniture at the stretch. Photo by Dominic Bukenya

The Nsambya furniture stretch – from the traffic lights to the American Embassy is famous; almost as famous as the pickpockets who stand strategically at the traffic lights, waiting for an opportunity to open an unlocked car door and snatch whatever comes handy.

In fact, the two are almost synonymous, although the latter are not as nearly celebrated as the former. When a pickpocket tires of the street life, he attaches himself to a carpenter, and learns the trade.
On the stretch, the reformed criminals’ enclave is distinct, just before the American Embassy as you are driving from the traffic lights.

Visiting that section is almost unnerving, since the carpenters are visibly high on something. Their specialty is heavy, crafted outdoor furniture.

How it all began
It is almost impossible to imagine that, 30 years ago, all this did not exist.

Those who used to commute from Makindye to Kampala using Nsambya Road, just after the 1986 Liberation War, will remember the insecurity that plagued the area.

John Mpangire has lived in the vicinity since his childhood and once owned the land on which some workshops sit. He is also the chairman of Kitawuluzi Central Zone, Nsambya parish, in which the furniture stretch falls.

“During the Obote II regime, this was a danger zone. The first kibanda (carpentry shop) opened in 1988. It was built on Nnalongo’s land; it was small and she hired a carpenter to run it. He only made coffins.”
Nnalongo is deceased but her kibanda still exists. Located in the middle of a row of permanent shops, about 600 meters from Total fuel Station, it is now a store.
Twaha Muwanga, 52, had arrived in Kampala two years earlier, in 1986, fresh from the warzone in Masuliita, Luweero.

“I fought in Masuliita and Kampala but when we captured power I lost interest in the military life. I returned home, to Mawokota, to dig and get married.”
In 1988, Muwanga sold his harvest of maize and returned to Kampala.

He bought timber and began business in Katwe, a Kampala suburb. After a few transactions, he realised his customers were cheating him, so he quit the business and shifted to Nsambya.

“This was a bush,” he says of the stretch. “There were two other small houses, besides Nnalongo’s house. Some coffee gardens were scattered across the area from the traffic lights to the railway line. Very few pedestrians used this road.”

Although he knew almost nothing about carpentry, and the place was almost devoid of passersby, Muwanga built a workshop opposite Nnalongo’s kibanda, on Mulangira (prince) Kiyimba’s land.

To cement the relationship, he married one of the prince’s daughters, and 27 years later, he is still on the same plot.

“I hired some boys and we taught ourselves how to make 2ft beds which we sold to policemen expensively at Shs- 15,000.

There were no carpenters around so they had no choice but to buy from us.”
Residents of Nsambya and Kabalagala also flocked to the workshop.

Growth of the area
With more orders coming in, Muwanga hired a carpenter from Entebbe.

“He taught us the basics in carpentry and soon, we started making sideboards.”
Business was booming. Sadam Moses Muleke, 48, who had been making coffins in Nnalongo’s kibanda quit and joined Muwanga.

“I came here in 1990 after completing Senior Six,” says Muleke. “When I joined Muwanga, they had graduated to 3ft beds. No one wanted to buy anything bigger than that.”

Other landlords on the stretch, seeking to cash in, rented out their land to young men who apprenticed at Muwanga’s shop and other carpenters. Soon, the workshops stretched to Mukwano road.

What held them together was their love for learning new things, and the willingness to teach each other.

Muwanga says in 1995, Congolese came to the area. “They taught us how to sculpt images in wood, but they did not stay for long. In 1999, a man called Atenyi opened a workshop, making obutebe bw’enga (basket stools). We asked him to teach us how to make them.”

However, it was in 2000 that the carpenters ventured into sofa sets, and over the years, they have refined their styles.

Ups and downs of business
The carpenters mainly use wood from misambya, mahogany, and mivule trees. Muwanga formed Kwata Farmers Group, a SACCO, which acquired a lease from National Forestry Authority to cut down trees. Most of the carpenters buy from this group.

Muwanga adds that in the late 90s and early 2000s, he would make Shs1m on a good day, Shs 400,000 of which, were profits.
“I bought plots of land in the city. Now it is impossible for a carpenter to buy land worth Shs 200m.”

Business is indeed slower nowadays, if you go by the comments of the carpenters interviewed.

Ali Ibira who came in 2000 says, “Money is scarce, until children return to school. Right now, we only make metallic chairs; wooden sofas are made on order.”

On a good day, Ibira says they can sell only two sets of chairs at Shs 600,000 each, followed by a business drought that can last two weeks.

“This business needs patience. Before, we used to display our chairs on the road. Now that KCCA ordered us to push back our goods, customers cannot see them properly.”

The fact that there are many carpenters in the place and other furniture locations, such as, Katwe and at Ku Biri Mulago Roundabout, has eaten up their share of local clientele.
For the last six years, Maama Queen has been buying obutandalo (utensil racks) and TV stands from the carpenters for sale.

“Business is not good. Butandalo go for Shs 30,000 but there are no customers. I have decided that this is my last year in Kampala.”

The mother of four, who also varnishes coffee tables, pictures herself on the verandah of her house in Bugiri, sewing a mat.

“I have built a house through this business. Now, I am just working to buy a big bed and sofa set.”

“We wanted to bring prestige to the carpentry job,” says Muwanga. “That is why we convinced those boys at the traffic lights to join us.”

Uganda Investment Authority also offered lessons to the carpenters to equip them with lasting business skills, teaching them how to write winning bidding tenders.

The dilemma
Teenagers, during school holidays, flock the stretch for apprenticeship.

“The government has a skilling network (Skilling Uganda Programme) in which it is pouring billions,” says Muleke. “We are already skilled and we are skilling others, yet no one cares that we are being kicked off this land.”

Muleke appeals to the government to help them acquire a larger piece of land.
“There are women who work here. We have youth who used to be thieves. They still smoke marijuana but they work hard. They do not rob anyone to fund their habit.” As the administrative chairman of the community, Muleke is in charge of discipline, liaising with the police on customer complaints.

Many times he physically canes these youth to encourage them to keep their end of the bargain with a client.
“If nothing is done, these people will go back on the streets and this road will once again become a danger zone.”

The beginning of the end

The land on which the Nsambya furniture stretch sits belongs to the Catholic Church. The landlords were merely squatters.

“We have always known that a day will come when the Church will ask us to leave,” says Muwanga. “Most of the landlords have already shifted, although we do not know if they were compensated.”

In 2006, with this threat hanging over their heads, they met president Yoweri Museveni with a request for the government to help them acquire land in the city.
However, the president advised them to register an association because he could not help individuals.

In 2010, Muwanga founded Nsambya Carpentry and Crafts Development Association (NSACADA).

“We wrote to the president but our letters were not replied. In 2013 NSACADA met with Church officials to ask for more time.
“We told them that we had brought development to this area.

They needed to help us find an alternative place. They gave us land to rent behind Embassy Supermarket but it is too small.”

Due to the stalemate, the carpenters have spent two and a half years without paying rent.
“We approached the President’s Office again and Ms. (Flora) Kiconco was appointed to liaise with us. We identified two plots in Ggaba. The first was a wetland, while the Indian owner of the second wanted $ 1m (Shs 3.6 billion) per acre, which is quite expensive.”

Flora Kiconco is the President’s Private Secretary in charge of legal affairs.
NSACADA has identified one acre in Katwe going for Shs1 billion, and 5 acres in Ku Mukaaga on Gayaza Road going for Shs420 million per acre.

Muwanga says they want to turn the land in Gayaza into a huge workshop, while the land in Katwe will become their collective market and showroom.

“KCCA markets are standing empty, but we are planning a market which already has vendors. Why should they frustrate us?”

The clientele
“Eighty five per cent of our clients are expatriates,” says Muleke. “They have no peak season. South Sudanese will bring a Fuso truck and buy chairs, dining sets, sofa sets and beds.”

On the day we were there, most of the clients were Europeans, Somali, and South Sudanese.

“A sofa set will cost you atleast Shs 600,000, but a White man will take it at Shs 2m,” Muwanga tells me.

“But wonders never cease. Sometimes, these Bazungu come with African interpreters, who convince them that they can get a better price somewhere else.”

Deogratias Buyinza began fabricating metal sofa sets in 2004. He sells each at Shs 800,000, however, if the customer looks prosperous, the price is Shs 1m.

“Some customers make orders and pay installments. When they fail to get the money, they demand a refund, yet we have already finished making the furniture.”
The peak seasons are the Christmas period and the beginning of school terms, when schools rush to buy double-decker beds.