The unreachable promised land

There’s a stretch of road where I live that makes you feel like you’ve stepped into a quaint Italian countryside, not Uganda. The pavement is flawless, joggers move in perfect rhythm, adorable dogs trot alongside, and at the hill’s peak, a breathtaking view unfolds. Uganda boasts some of the most stunning sunsets, the kind that elicit memories of lost love and happier times. It’s the closest you’ll get to feeling like you’re in paradise before the whiff of an open sewer reminds you that you aren’t. But that isn’t our entire story; there was once a time, when Uganda was this little country with so much potential.

My mother speaks of such a time with the passion of one who knows the value of a thing once lost. Her memories are of a country where the systems worked well. The government operated like a well-oiled machine, providing services with a precision that rivalled Chinese factories. It launched and managed numerous enterprises, not just to serve the people but also to boost revenue and ease the tax burden.

Our graveyard of dreams harbours ghosts like Uganda Development Corporation, Uganda Commercial Bank, National Housing and Construction Company, Uganda Electricity Board, Uganda Transport Company, Uganda Railways Corporation, Uganda Coffee Marketing Board, Uganda Tea Growers Corporation, Uganda Cement Industry, Uganda Meat Packers, and more. Government enterprises once established to protect and provide for ordinary Ugandans.

Back then, teachers completed their training and were promptly placed in schools across the country, guaranteed housing and a decent stipend. Doctors were held in high esteem, generously compensated with enviable benefits. Civil service held weight; its perks attracted the brightest minds.

She spoke of a time when the needs of schoolchildren were so important that schools were regularly inspected, and those that didn’t meet the strict guidelines were closed. For those who’d like to know why their parents pressured them to study law and medicine, it was because of this time in our history.

Police officers enjoyed affordable, well-built housing. MPs and ministers had their offices in the regions of their constituencies, unlike the current situation where every MP in the land must sit in Kampala.

The country had a plan, and although we mostly limped towards it, the promised land was within reach. It was a time when Makerere was Makerere. When educated Ugandans were so highly sought after because of their work ethic and competence that there existed mild xenophobia within East Africa because ‘those Ugandans take our jobs’. We weren’t ‘there’ yet as a country, but we were well on our way.

It was a time when our government comprised the smartest people in the country. These were men and women whose credentials earned them respect in any room; home, and away. They made recommendations, debated policies, and dreamed of the promised land because they grew up in a season where Africa was shaking off the parasites. They weren’t in it for the money; they wanted to be part of building something truly great.

Of course, we had career politicians—that specimen of human being whose origin and necessity are still in question to this day—but we also had real patriots. It was anyone’s game; we hadn’t yet earned the perpetual label of ‘developing country’. We believed that with political stability and sound economic policy, we could make it to the second or even first world in no time. We had faith.

We hadn’t yet been told that globalisation was a good thing for our economy. The IMF and World Bank hadn’t yet sponsored research papers to sell us on how beneficial privatisation of our national assets would be; they hadn’t yet lobbied the greediest among us to sell us for a small cut. The US and Europe hadn’t yet fully enforced their foreign policy of installing and supporting dictators on the continent; they hadn’t yet given us a detailed prescription on how a country like ours gets out of poverty.

But alas, they did, and so here we are, 62 years later, still a developing country, but much worse off than when we started. In an economy being sucked dry by foreign and local interests, you ask yourself how we got here, but then you turn on the evening news and watch with incredulity as someone with a certificate in hair and make-up is awarded one of the most important sectors in the country. The promised land seems unreachable now, but history tells us that, like Moses, we once had it in our sights.

Brenda Nakalema