В Уганде «патриоты» с солдатами в охране и солдатами в душе: сатира на лицемерие элит

The patriot is awake to a brand new day in our beloved Uganda. He says a quick prayer or sings the national anthem as he arises from his comfortable bed. His bed is probably draped in black, yellow, and red beddings. At his breakfast table, laden with the finest produce of the land, he tucks heartily into his steaming hot katogo and washes it down with a mug of millet porridge. He looks at his children, healthy and gleaming. A patriot of means, he is a good father. He spares no expense for his children. Only the finest private school for them. Surely, you understand that public schools are not rigorous enough for the breeding of premium patriots! The driver is on standby, the siren is ready. The maddening and snarling Kampala traffic resentfully parts for the patriot’s convoy. If the patriot is really patriotic, he might have a few soldiers in his retinue. When the blaring siren fails to part the traffic, these soldiers with dark shades on their faces, arms cradling nasty-looking guns, jump off their car like the commandos they are. Yes, they are who they think they are. Better patriots. Better than you. More powerful than you. They glare and bark orders, forcing traffic off the road. You avert your gaze because you do not want to attract the patriotic ire of these fellas. Your brain, in trying to keep you alive, reminds you of this incident: On December 23 2024, Charles Bahati, a police officer under the Very Important Persons Protection Unit (VIPPU) shot dead a driver, Julius Ssemwaka, for allegedly refusing to give way to a police van, reported the Daily Monitor. Thanks to Daily Monitor columnist, Nicholas Sengoba, who is keeping count – you know that it is now over 600 days since Bahati went on the run – good thing the Police recovered his gun, right? You watch the soldiers hit the cars, demanding the cars instantly shrink off the road. You remember Julius Ssemwaka and marvel that the beefy state security apparatus, which has proven consistently that when it wants to find you, it will, is yet to unearth one of their own. You watch the convoy snake past you and your sniffling patriotism. You look to see who is being driven in this taxpayer-funded, urgent and important convoy – alas, the car windows are blacked out. The patriot must be kept separate from the unwelcome scrutiny of the great unwashed. The convoy approaches the national ceremonial grounds, an expansive beautiful green space that was once freely accessible to city residents. Alas, patriotic orders from the great above have seen the securitization of the grounds and others. The grounds are now closed off; an ugly concrete wall with uglier metallic bars now stands between the city residents and the grounds. With the wall came soldiers manning the gates. The grounds that once welcomed city residents to relax patriotically have been rendered unfriendly and inaccessible, save for the ruling regime and a privileged few. For patriots whose patriotism toes the line, this wall presents boundless opportunities for proud displays of patriotism through posters. Therafa, the wall is often dotted with posters of the president. Just the president, thank you! Haphazardly placed, there is neither beauty nor order here on the altar of patriotism. To remove even one poster is to invite an unwanted introduction to state wrath. Despite all the patriotic city regulations on posters, our capital continues to be blighted by their spectacular messiness. Posters and signposts of all kinds are locked in an ugly battle for the streets of Kampala – which one will take the crown for uglifying Kampala? Dear citizen, you are not alone in your angst. The patriot in his convoy is alert to the heartbeat of the wanainchi. His convoy has come to a stop next to the ceremonial grounds. Our patriot, looking spiffy in his uniform, steps out, making his way through the grass to a section of the ugly concrete wall. On the wall are scraps of paper from past posters alongside a faded poster of the president. Our patriot is a man with a mission. He stands in front of a lopsided signpost, advertising an army contest heralded by the army commander whose picture dominates the colourful signpost. You should pay attention to this signpost. Colour printing is not cheap. Besides, the army commander is known for his fearless patriotism. Our patriot, imbued with that brand of deified patriotism, reaches out and straightens the signpost. It should be ramrod straight like a good soldier, not leaning slovenly like a potbelly defying the containment of belted trousers. The sign stands a little straighter than before. It is well with our patriot’s soul. He walks back to his car. That moment captured on camera. Like corporate entities and obese government institutions boasting hefty budgets titled ‘Corporate Social Responsibility,’ this brand of viral patriotism is not patriotic enough if it is not shared, gushingly praised, liked, and reposted. Perhaps as he settles back into his car, his convoy rejoining the road like it never left, our patriot feels the timeless words of celebrated Ugandan poet, Henry Barlow, “Today I did my share In building the nation…” [email protected] The writer is a tayaad muzzukulu.