A Ugandan without a Tribe

A Ugandan without a Tribe

By Abasi Kiyimba

Ogwal, Eludai, Kirya, Asiimwe, Mukwaya and I had known each other for more than six years. Our association, way back in secondary school at Busoga College Mwiri, started as an academic alliance. We were top students in our class right from term one of senior one, and our teachers constantly praised us to the class, to the chagrin of our classmates. We began to revise together, share books, and to assist each other with the homework given in class. Over the years, we learnt to do many things together – sports, shopping, Saturday outings, watching films in Kakira, eating sugarcane in the Madhvani plantations and others. As a result, despite the academic divergences when we joined Makerere University, we remained specially attached to each other, and met as regularly as we could. In particular, we religiously stuck to the Thursday evening tea and chat sessions, taking turns to meet in each of our rooms in the  different halls of residence where we stayed. Our friends and associates looked at us with envy and admiration, and nicknamed us “the Mwiri group.”

Ogwal was from Lango in Northern Uganda, Eludai from Teso in the East, Kirya from Bugwere in the East, Asiimwe from Ankore in Western Uganda, and Mukwaya and I came from Buganda – the Central region of Uganda. Our friendship survived many of the tribal hostilities that characterized Uganda after the fall of Idi Amin.

But the Makerere community after the fall of the first post-Amin government of Professor Lule was especially exasperating, and constantly tested our bonds. It was more tribally divided and hostile than was ever recorded during the reign of Idi Amin. The anti-Binaisa demonstrations within Buganda region had a deep and undesirable effect on the tribal attitudes of the members of the university community. Almost all members of the other Ugandan tribes had a bad comment to make about the Baganda. The smaller tribes looked at the Baganda as a people determined to use their size to dominate them. They also regarded one another with suspicion – probably wondering which one of them should play the leading political role in the desirable event of the Baganda being suppressed.

To make matters worse, the government announced that the Makerere Students’ Guild, banned by Idi Amin, was to be revived. There was general excitement as small groups, scattered all over the University campus, considered who the next Guild President was to be. These groups were tribal; and this left no doubt as to the criterion that would be used in choosing the Guild President.

Secret tribal meetings were organized just before the nomination of candidates, to decide on a common tribal strategy. Lukwago, a Bachelor of Commerce Muganda student, was known and respected for his commitment to the interests and dignity of his tribe, and he was selected as the chief facilitator for these meetings among the Baganda. He moved around the University campus, speaking to small groups of Baganda students about the best political strategy under the circumstances. I bumped into him one evening when I went to visit a friend in Northcote Hall. There were about eight people in the room – an ideal number for such a meeting. All were Baganda, and Lukwago was in the process of impressing it upon them that we clearly could not produce a successful Muganda candidate for the Guild Chair, with all the odds against us. But, he queried his listeners, if we could not get our own man in the chair, could we not have a say as to who went there? He argued that the wise course of action was for the Baganda to support a candidate from the Western region. “This,” Lukwago continued, “is a fellow ‘Muntu,’ and gives us a chance to strike a humiliating defeat against the Northerners at whose hands we have always suffered. Please understand that to push forward a Muganda candidate would only serve to divide our votes for the benefit of the North. With Buganda and the West put together, plus our traditional friends the Basoga, victory is assured. After this, we shall sit at the round table and discuss our share of the government.” As I listened to Lukwago, I realized that all the post-Amin sermons against tribalism had been wasted. Here was a University undergraduate student directly preaching tribal alliance for national division. And I was sure that in another secret meeting somewhere, some competent Westerner, Northerner or Eastern was doing the same.

For the Mwiri group, this political activity was clearly unfortunate. We met less often, as we each had to go to different tribal meetings. In the initial stages however, we pooled together the information we gathered from our various sources. We learnt from Asiimwe for example, that the Westerners had decided on a Munyoro candidate. At first, there had been some disagreement. The Bakiga, Banyankore, Batooro and Banyoro had each wanted a candidate from their own tribes, and some had even threatened to go it individually. But powerful orators had dissuaded them, pointing out to them the danger that such a division posed to the Western region’s chances of producing the Guild President. From Ogwal we learnt that the Northerners had selected an Acholi candidate, for the strategic reason that he was more likely to draw support from the rest of the North and the East, since the Acholi had not dominated the national political scene as much as the Langi had. Kirya and Eludai informed us that Eastern region tribes, excluding the pro-Baganda Basoga, had decided to support a candidate from the North. He did not explain their reasons for this decision, but these were not hard to guess at. They had to ally with the North against the gigantic tribes of the West and the Baganda. If they could not make their own person Guild President, they could at least prevent a candidate in whom the Baganda had a vested interest from becoming one.

With passage of time, I sensed with horror that the general atmosphere of mistrust and hostility among the tribes was beginning to invade the privacy of the Mwiri group. Eludai, Kirya and Ogwal started keeping to themselves, following the alliance struck between their tribes. Asiimwe, Mukwaya and I did the same for similar reasons.

On a date set by the Returning Officer, Katenta-Adyeri from Western Uganda was nominated, as was Odong-Ouma from the North. To our surprise, Kavuma-Kaggwa, under the influence of some uncompromising Baganda students, and in defiance of Lukwago’s advice, was also nominated to contest for the Guild Presidency. He was generally condemned by the many Baganda who had seen Lukwago’s sense. His votes, if any, were certain to come from Baganda alone, and this might divide the Baganda-Westerner alliance to the extent of giving the North an upper hand. To me however, Kavuma-Kaggwa’s nomination had a more disconcerting effect – it divided the Mwiri group even further. Mukwaya felt he should support a fellow Muganda, and accused me of suffering from political myopia. How could I agree to be confused by Westerners to support a Munyoro against a Muganda? Had I forgotten that from the days of our great grandfathers the Banyoro have never been our friends? Why could I not realize that I was simply being used? I stood my ground.

By the time the final rally came, we had learnt to keep out of one another’s way. Eludai, Kirya and Ogwal moved with a big pro-Odong-Ouma group; Asiimwe and I belonged to another large pro-Katenta-Adyeri group; and Mukwaya had found himself a tiny pro-Kavuma-Kaggwa group. All groups went around shouting praises of their candidates. As we gathered into the freedom square for the final show down before polling the following day, slogans like “Katenta our man,” “Odong unopposed,” and “Kavuma victory” filled the air. After going around the Freedom Square several times, demonstrating in support of our candidates, we started throwing insults at members of the opposing camps. It was at this time that I came face to face with Kirya and Ogwal. All three of us withdrew in embarrassment.

As the candidates delivered their final campaign speeches, each was repeatedly interrupted by shouts of “Here Here!” and “Bore” or “Zee!” Kavuma-Kaggwa spoke first. He had little support, and little hostility. His voice was loud and clear. He condemned tribalism as a basis for conducting elections, and promised Makerere a prosperous future under his leadership. In the Makerere he led, he stressed, there would be no discrimination according to tribe or religion. He concluded by calling upon Makerere to support him and build for the future. He was applauded by his few Baganda supporters. I was impressed, and could not help admitting to myself that this was a good speaker at a tribo-political disadvantage. Before he had quite left the platform, the cries of “Odong-Ouma” and “Katenta Adyeri” had already been taken up.

Katenta Adyeri came on next. He might have been an impressive speaker, but he was not given chance to be heard. We were either too busy supporting his unmade points, or dismissing them ahead of their time.

Odong Ouma was tall, big, dark and handsome. As he rose to the platform with a confident smile, the mixture of shouts for and against him made a deafening din. It took him the whole of five minutes to get the mediocre silence necessary to salute Makerere.

“Makerere Oyeee!” he yelled.

Oyeee! Zeee! Oyeee! Bore! Go home!” the crowd boomed back.

“Distinguished members of the University community,” Odong began, addressing the crowd at the top of his voice, “this is a very crucial moment in our lives as Makerereans, and also in the history of our country and our people. Our destiny is now in our hands. It is upon us to play our cards as fully self-conscious intellectuals, to ensure that the toils of mother Uganda in bringing us up are not thrown to the winds.” As I listened, Asiimwe by my side, I had the uncomfortable feeling that he had been given more chance than was healthy for my candidate – Katenta-Adyeri. My misgivings deepened when I caught sight of Eludai, Kirya and Ogwal nodding happily from another corner of the Freedom Square. Something had to be done to stop him, otherwise the fellow might continue talking honey, and sway the unstable support off Katenta.

As if someone had read my thoughts, a shout of “Bore” rose from one corner of the Freedom Square, and was followed by another and another. Within seconds, the whole Freedom Square was in chaos. People shouted and insulted one another aimlessly. Very soon, sticks were broken from the nearby tree branches, and Katenta’s supporters got busy identifying Odong’s as candidates for a beating, and vice versa. I decided that it would be best to avoid physical confrontation with anyone. I started moving away, taking particular care to avoid large fighting groups for fear that I might be identified as Katenta’s supporter and punished for it. Just then, I spotted Asiimwe and Ogwal, engaged in a two-man fight. They both had sticks, and each one was trying to hit the other. For a second or two, I stared at them dumb-struck, unable to believe my eyes. Had the forces of tribal division gone that far? Surely someone ought to remain sane in this confusion. And who could, if people who had been friends for over six years were now fighting for people none of them probably knew personally? I moved very fast, determined to stop them. Unfortunately, Ogwal saw me first, and misinterpreted my intentions. He struck out viciously with the big stick that he held in his right hand. The blow had been aimed at my head, but I ducked and received it sharp in on my left shoulder. Pain shot through my body, and maddened me with anger. By the time I looked up, Ogwal was raising his stick to hit me again. For all my honourable intentions, I had been forced to the defensive. I rose and confronted him with determination. Unfortunately, Asiimwe had also misunderstood me. He had assumed from the beginning that I had come to help him against a foe, whereas I had come to rescue two friends from tribal folly. With Ogwal’s attention diverted to me, Asiimwe remained free to operate with his stick. He struck at Ogwal’s back with all his might, just as Ogwal was about to strike me. Ogwal collapsed in a heap. I looked at him with great concern, and was about to kneel by his side to assess the harm when Asiimwe shouted a danger signal. A group of furious Odong supporters was approaching the spot at full speed. We took off with them in hot pursuit, but somehow we managed to lose them.  

The following day was the polling day. All was quiet as the several Assistant Returning Officers for each Hall of Residence organized their polling stations. Two representatives of each candidate were allowed at each polling station. We learnt that Ogwal had been taken to the University hospital, and would not be able to vote. But towards the end of the exercise, four students walked into University Hall bearing a stretcher. On it was Ogwal, covered with a white bed sheet. I dared not go near him, but from my distance, I could see that he was well enough to talk. The stretcher was lowered in front of the Assistant Returning Officer, and Ogwal was given a ballot paper. He voted, and the stretcher was carried away, leaving me staring after them stupefied. Never before had a patient been allowed out of the hospital on a stretcher; and I remained at loss as to the methods used by Odong’s supporters. But tribal politics had gone that far.

There was agonizing tension as we awaited the outcome of the elections. Many people left their Halls of residence and camped under trees outside the Guild offices, to await the completion of the vote-counting process. Those of us who remained in our halls of residence observed a solemn silence – not even members of the same camp dared to speculate on the results. At around 2 o’clock in the morning, shouts were heard from the direction of the Guild offices. It soon became apparent that the people doing the shouting were moving in a large group. As they drew nearer to University Hall, I discerned the words “Katenta-Adyeri,” and knew we had won. I got up hurriedly from where I was seated and prepared to join the victory procession as it went past. Asiimwe was already among them.

The following day, we learnt the details from a circular released by the Returning Officer. Kavuma-Kagga had polled 178 votes, Odong-Ouma 2038 votes, and Katenta-Adyeri 2084 votes. He congratulated the successful candidate, and called for the nomination of candidates for the students’ parliament or the GRC (Guild representatives Council). We learnt that same day that Odong-Ouma had been taken ill. Odong’s supporters were bitter, and blamed the Baganda for their defeat. Many were even heard echoing the anonymous but common statement that “a good Muganda is a dead one.”

A week later, the students’ parliament was elected on the basis of the same tribal alliances. Odong-Ouma, however, won a seat in the students’ parliament. The world outside watched the events with apprehensive curiosity. Many observed that we were more tribally sick than the entire Ugandan society. And the press charged that as educated people, we ought to put up a better show. However, we felt a great sense of security in our alliances. And when President-elect Katenta-Adyeri announced his cabinet, we thought it a good gesture of reconciliation that he had made Odong-Ouma the Vice President.

But then, a period of disillusionment set in. Now that the victory had been accomplished, the Westerners saw no further need for maintaining the alliance with the Baganda. We were openly told that we were opportunists who always want to dominate the Ugandan political scene, and we were too politically blind to realize that our days were over. One morning in fact, an argument between me and Asiimwe culminated into a breach of relations. He assured me that we had no share in the Katenta victory, and that they - the westerners - had had the pleasure of outwitting us, us and our “empty pride.” After this, I had no wish to associate with Asiimwe, nor with any Westerner alive. Like many other Baganda, I sought to make peace with Odong’s supporters. By this time, Mukwaya had already re-established himself as a friend among the pro-Odong members of the Mwiri group. A common defeat of their heroes, suffered at Katenta’s hands, had brought them together. I was joining them because my illusions about a permanent Baganda-Westerner alliance had been ruthlessly shuttered. The Mwiri group had almost re-assembled, save for Asiimwe who was still on honeymoon, celebrating the Westerner victory.

Asiimwe joined us only a week later. He had been assured during an argument that as a Munyankore, he had no claim on the Guild victory but had been used for convenience. As he recounted the Munyoro’s words, I had a secret pleasure in noting that he sounded even more bitter than any us had ever been. It was him that first remarked that the next time we had an election, we should simply look for a Ugandan, and not a member of a certain tribe. We agreed; but even at this stage of tribal reconciliation, I could not help feeling that to Ogwal, Kirya and Eludai, “a Ugandan” vaguely meant Odong.

The transformation in the feelings of the members of the University community was amazing. The victory had started as a Baganda-Westerner one; then the Baganda were pushed off it. Within a short time, the Banyankore, Batooro, and Bakiga were kicked off it too, and it remained a purely Nyoro victory. What we did not know then was that the victory did not belong to any of the tribes or tribal blocks. It really belonged elsewhere. The University community was rudely awakened to this fact when the Uganda government donated one thousand and five hundred Radio cassettes to the student community. They were received by the Guild government, and they disappeared without trace. Not even the cabinet ministers ever got to know the fate of these radio cassettes. They were exclusively handled by President Katenta-Adyeri and his Vice President Odong-Ouma. The frustration and feeling of betrayal among the members of the student community who had mounted tireless campaigns was very deep. Members began to wonder whether it had been worthwhile insulting and beating up friends and strangers for the sake of these two public swindlers. Their formerly most loyal supporters now openly denounced them as “thieves.” Time was ripe for a vote of no-confidence motion.

Whereas Katenta had been voted into the Guild chair by tribal contrivances, the movement that pulled him from office was a really popular one. Langi, Acholi, Itesots, Bagwere, Adhola, Basoga, Lugbara, Madi, Bakonzo, Samia, Bagisu, Baganda, Banyankore, Bakiga, Batooro, Banyoro and others, all with their different grievances, flowed into the Freedom Square on the memorable occasion of pulling down a Guild President only four weeks after his election. Small groups were scattered all over the Freedom Square chanting furiously:

“He must go, go;

He must go, go!

Katenta muuust go, go!”

There was no contradicting chant. The few who felt he should not go kept their feelings to themselves.

The big bell sounded, and the Free-Chairman called the meeting to order to discuss the motion of no confidence. Sennyonga, the third year Law student who was the mover of the motion, stood up to read the charges. But people were not interested. Some knew Katenta-Adyeri had humiliated them by beating Odong-Ouma in the elections; and that was unforgivable. Others felt bitter that the Westerners had used them as a stepping stone. Yet others felt they had been tricked into looking at Katenta as a representative of Westerner aspirations when he was only a miserable Munyoro. But above all, the Makerere students were most unforgiving towards Katenta and Odong for stealing their radio cassettes. Tribe or no tribe, their government had to go.

I looked up in time to see Sennyonga folding his papers, meaning he had finished moving the vote of no confidence motion, on our behalf. The Free-Chairman then called upon the Guild President to defend himself; but he was nowhere to be seen. So we went ahead and voted. First, the Free-Chairman called upon those opposing the motion to raise their hands. Members loudly booed, but the Free-Chairman insisted that they had to be accorded their democratic right. Nobody voted in favour of Katenta-Adyeri. Those of his supporters present either feared to show themselves or found it useless to bother. But even if they had voted, they would clearly have been insignificant. The chairman then called for those who supported the motion to remove Katenta-Adyeri from office to show their hands. Thousands of hands went up, with more than half the members raising two hands each, and making all kinds of noises. The Free-Chairman was overwhelmed by the task of counting, but he insisted that it was necessary for legal purposes, and called upon volunteers to assist him. Members became impatient; and soon, a new chant emerged:

“They have gone, gone

They have gone, gone

Katenta and Odong ha-a-a-a-ve gone”

The Free-chairman, with the aid of his gigantic bell interrupted the chant to make a short concluding speech. He delivered himself as follows:

“Ladies and gentlemen, as Free-chairman and now head of the caretaker government, my mandate is to ensure that the process of putting in place a new Guild government is legal and peaceful. I have no wish to refer in detail to the circumstances surrounding the election of Katenta-Adyeri to office. But we must have learnt one big lesson from our recent experience – that through tribal squabbles, we risk squandering the opportunity to lead our people towards a meaningful future. Next time we elect a Guild President, remember to simply look for a capable Ugandan – a Ugandan without a tribe. But we cannot get that Ugandan unless we all embark on the delicate task of becoming HIM. Are we ready to start on this?”

“Ye e e e e e e s!!” Makerere replied in unison.