The country that behaves like a poorly raised teen

On the said Wednesday morning, two ambulances were stuck and couldn’t wiggle their way out of the gridlock to give a lifeline to the patients they were supposed to be ferrying. Then came an escort vehicle with gun-wielding soldiers shoving motorists out of the way, to clear the road for one of the hundreds of tax consumers.

They bullied their way, forced some cars onto the pavements, went the wrong side of the road, and drove off. The ambulances stayed rooted in their spots, wailing to no end and without help from other motorists and the traffic police officers who are always littered around the intersection. Any road user has played witness to this scene before. We know who gets priority treatment on the road – even if for some reason, government officials almost always arrive late to every activity.

The Speaker of Parliament recently suggested the demarcation of ambulance lanes on our roads. It is a preposterous and illogical suggestion but it tells you how badly we are managing even the simplest of situations.

Earlier this week, President Museveni celebrated his 80th birthday. He is one of only about 2 percent of Ugandans in that age bracket. The ones who saw Uganda at birth and have given their lives to shape it into what it is today. It is hard to tell how history will judge him and his generation. 

When they are finally gone, what will the citizens of the day say about their contribution to House Uganda? Yet for Uganda, it will always feel like a case of what could have been – and that is the problem. Your average Ugandan is approximately 15 years old. A teenager with lots of promise and potential – if they don’t go off the rails. 

In many ways, Uganda, even at 62, is a lot like that. It always feels like a country on the brink of something great yet it never really turns the corner. 

The worry for observers shouldn’t be that the man at the top is aging, and will, increasingly and inevitably become unfit for the job – at least biologically. 

The concern should be that those around him don’t seem capable of rising to the occasion when the time inevitably comes. There is a reason why, even at 80, everything has to go through the big man. Take for example the mess on the roads. The fact that ambulances can’t find their way to hospitals or the fact that every week, we lose close to 100 people to road accidents. 

There are about five agencies or more, whose core mandate is to ensure that our roads are safe and motorable. The people who run them are between 40-60 years and primed to be here for a long time. 

Yet none of them has the ability or will to act on the basics.So, instead, we subsidize the state on the things for which we have already paid taxes. We build long fences and hire askaris because the state cannot offer security for its people and their properties. If you want a constant supply of electricity, you have to privately install a solar system. 

If you want a good quality education for your kids, find money for a private school because no learning is taking place in government schools. The same goes for health, transport, and whatever service you pay taxes for. That economic squeeze inevitably builds the social pressures that play out on the road. 

There isn’t enough for people to take care of themselves so they can’t take care of others. Whoever is trying to get ahead often feels that they have to do so at the expense of others. That explains the occasional and inexplicable spates of murders, school fires, and vandalism of public property such as electric cables and railway lines. 

So, what is the future for a country where up to 70 percent are below 30 and growing up without empathy and a sense of community? A country with no soul. When the moment of introspection comes, shall we be happy to trade the roads, electricity, and impressive GDP figures for a country where people block an ambulance?

Mr Rukwengye is the founder, Boundless Minds. 
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