Author: Gawaya Tegulle. PHOTO/NMG
Turban on head and with sharp, pointed shoes whose tip had a comical upward curve, Abdul was an easily recognisable figure in his village in Arabia, in the days of yore, before electricity was visited upon mankind.
One night, Abdul, who slept alone in a big house, forgot to blow out the candle. He fell into a deep slumber. Presently, the resident rat – a furry, cheeky, up-to-no-good gnaw-some chap, poking his nose around the house, in search of food, fun and folly, came into the bedroom.
Moving up the bedside stool, the rodent knocked the candle to the floor, whereupon the floormat or carpet caught fire, sending the house aflame. Abdul woke up just in time to grab his turban, coat and tunic (kanzu) before fleeing for dear life.
The fire reduced the house to ashes. Abdul took one good, long look at the spectacle in the morning, then got a brainwave. He packed the ashes into sacks, loaded them onto his donkeys, and set off to a far country, a journey of many, many days.
Then he reached a kingdom whose people demanded to know where he was from and what he was up to.
“I’m Abdul, a merchant who deals in sugar.” “Pray, tell us, what is sugar?” Abdul, a man with the gift of the gab, explained that sugar was a substance which, when put in tea, made it taste really great. The natives decided this was a man fit to meet the king.
Over the next few hours, Abdul addressed the king and his subjects on the virtues of sugar; assuring them that their lives would never be the same again.
Abdul even made a demo; poured some ashes into a cup of tea and beamed as he sipped away. He made some for the king too and bid him enjoy the same. “Don’t you see, O king?!” he exclaimed.
“Don’t you feel the sweetness?” The king bought the entire stock of ashes and ordered distribution to his subjects, a little at a time. Everybody was certain this was the best thing ever to happen to the kingdom.
Abdul became a celebrity and took up residence in the royal palace as an investor; enjoying favour with his majesty and untouchable by the locals. Two or three years down the road, an Arab merchant drifted into the village, peddling his wares.
Curiosity got the better of him when he observed the locals majestically and proudly putting ashes into their tea, stirring with care and then sitting back to enjoy the tea, pride written all over their faces. Cautiously, he asked what this was all about.
They explained to this ignorant Arab merchant that this was something called sugar, and it was used to make tea taste better... and what was more - it was the preserve of the privileged few in favour with the king, not lowly souls like him.
Quietly, the Arab went to his stock, pulled out a pack of sugar and invited them to try it in their tea. The people did so and were immediately stunned! They rushed to the king. When he tasted the tea with this new sugar, his majesty bowed his head in shame and sadness.
A little man, a complete fraud, conducting business with the cunning of a fox and speaking big with the airs of an investor, had fooled an entire kingdom for years.
Long speeches, delivered sweetly and spread out over a long period, had caused an entire people to believe the ashes of Abdul were the sweetest thing on earth.
Three months ago, taxpayers’ money was spent on an event at Kololo Independence Grounds in Kampala to celebrate what they called the National Resistance Movement’s (NRM) truly amazing contribution to Uganda since it came to power close to 39 years ago.
And watching television footage of the Independence Day celebrations at Busia, I listened – in horror – as people praised the NRM for “turning Uganda around”.
Then I recalled that in 1981, for class P5K at Victoria Nile School, Jinja, under the tutelage of Mr Alisen Jones Ojambo, turban on my head, I starred in the then famous drama as Abdul.
And I can assure you my dear Ugandans, when you don’t know what sugar tastes like, you will enjoy ashes in your tea.
Gawaya Tegulle is an advocate of the High Court of Uganda
