Writer: Gawaya Tegulle. PHOTO/FILE
Just been thinking lately. For close to two decades now, one of the finest places to be when in Kampala is the Serena Hotel. When it had just been launched, it was the talk of the town and stood out brightly with its new coat of paint.
All the cute chirruping, chirping birds about town were abuzz about Serena. But one chap that I interviewed – a seemingly rich young Arab or Persian wasn’t particularly impressed; and matters were aggravated a tad by the fact that he spoke English with a thick, comical accent.
He was about to put up a hotel. It would be the best Uganda had ever had, he said. “That Serena is nothing,” he boomed. “It’s nothing but paint. You wait; just one good rain, and it will all be washed off and you’ll have rubbish.”
He did build a fine hotel alright; but given the location, and the way he acquired the land, not even the kids in my village believe that the hotel ever belonged to him. They think he has always been a proxy for someone – whom we can discuss over coffee and a sandwich.
I don’t know if Serena was ever repainted; but several good rains later, it definitely does look good still and has maintained its stellar class; while the proud young man’s hotel enterprise collapsed like a sand castle.
Still, the young man had a good point: when paint wears off, we begin to see things as they truly are. January 29, 1986, seems like only just yesterday when a lean, skinny, keen-looking soldier boy stood on the steps of Parliament and got sworn in as President by then Chief Justice Peter Allen.
The new Sheriff in town vowed that what Uganda was witnessing was not a change of guards as before, but a fundamental change.
Many tales, short and long, had been told about the young guerrilla leader before he took power. People said that he could turn into a tortoise and slowly amble past the fiercest of military roadblocks; or turn into a snake or some other creature and escape the tightest of situations.
In other words, he was more or less invisible and that meant, in serious military actualities, practically invincible. And now here he was!
His words carried vigour and vitality and gave lots of hope to a young nation, only 24 years old, and struggling, after years of civil war. It was like a wave of calmness sweeping over a country torn up by a tornado.
The nation had been, for a while, stuck in survival mode and it did seem like it was finally primed for take-off.
It seemed like the advent of a messiah; could this be the man and the moment Uganda had been waiting for? Uganda got the feel of the Israelites leaving Egypt and setting off for the Promised Land; a feeling of a new birth and a new hope. And boy was it exciting! People left work early to go and listen to him on radio. It was like an infusion of new blood in a patient dying of anaemia.
But a few good rains tell the tale of whether a building was nice or just painted nicely. Serena has stood the test of time; not so our ‘revolutionary’.
Citizens have to be asked to kindly tune in to his radio and television addresses. Many listen out of politeness and stations air him because they don’t want to have trouble renewing their licences.
The armed forces protect the thieves against those who protest against the theft of public funds. Prisons are brimming with good citizens.
Citizens learn from their leaders: and that’s why almost everyone thinks of only themselves; and people steal and cheat with a clear conscience. Shame was cast aside long ago.
Politics has become more profitable than trade and industry. Honest, hard work is now a forgotten art. Like someone said, the entire country is a crime scene.
Just a few good rains, and the paint wears off; and then you realise the legend of the ‘revolution’... was just a good paint job. Just been thinking lately...
Mr Tegulle is an advocate of the High Court of Uganda [email protected]
