Uganda-A trip to Africa’s pearl

I recalled that statement as I joined the queue to go through immigration at Entebbe Airport. An overzealous officer insisted on double-checking my Ugandan visa. “You are here for a PR Congress; what is PR?” she asked. Tired from the hop-step-jump flight from Abuja to Addis Ababa and then to Entebbe, I was not too […]

I recalled that statement as I joined the queue to go through immigration at Entebbe Airport. An overzealous officer insisted on double-checking my Ugandan visa. “You are here for a PR Congress; what is PR?” she asked. Tired from the hop-step-jump flight from Abuja to Addis Ababa and then to Entebbe, I was not too generous in my reply, wondering what business the young woman had at the immigration desk if she had never heard of PR. Was this officer the type on duty during the raid on Entebbe by the Israel Defence Forces (IDF) to free hostages in a counter-terrorist operation on 4th July 1976? Some mothers do have them; so do some countries!
 Situated northwest of Lake Victoria, Uganda is truly a beautiful place. Fertile, landlocked and enchanting, the country boasts many tourist attractions such as the Ruwenzori Mountains National Park, Mount Stanley, Mount Elgon and the magnificent Sipi falls. It is also the land of mountain gorillas and nine other primate species.
The journey from Entebbe to Kampala initiates the first time visitor to what living in Uganda must be like. Everywhere you see hardworking people going about their business; this is just another bustling African country, you tell yourself. But one couldn’t help wondering why, 51 years after independence, the 36-kilometre major artery linking the international airport to the capital has not been made a dual carriageway.
Inside Kampala city the traffic gridlock at the various roundabouts shows that there is a crying need for flyovers. Kampala boasts a vibrant National Theatre which is not under any threat of being converted to a hotel as Nigeria is rumoured to be planning. I cheered on sighting the portrait of my friend and teacher, Okot P’Bitek hanging on the wall as a former director of that theatre.
 The weather at this time of the year is wonderfully cool, especially in the evenings. In the commercial district one cannot but notice that the Indians and Pakistanis are back. Remember how they were chased out of the country on 4th August 1972 by Idi Amin who claimed that he had had a dream in which God told him to order their expulsion? Time is a great healer. And the Asians themselves have learnt a thing or two from that experience; they are now ‘more Ugandan’ and generally more open and friendly.
Even though vestiges of the post-Amin war years remain, Kampala is picking up the beat again. King Mutesa’s palace, having survived the anti-monarchy years, is an edifice worthy of its name. Resplendent as any palace in Europe or Asia, it seats atop a hill which commands a fantastic view of Kampala in the sprawling valley below. Our guide gave a brief history of the Buganda kingdom and its travails in the hands of various colonial and post-colonial political actors.  The ladies in our party had to tie uniform wrappers provided by the guide because it is against tradition for them to be seen in ‘tempting’ trousers by the king who may decide to confiscate any woman that catches his fancy!
Within the palace grounds and tucked away on one side was the most depressing sight I beheld throughout the Uganda trip-Idi Amin’s underground torture chamber where about 300,000 people reportedly met their gruesome end. The narrow road leading to the chamber sloped into the belly of the earth. Overhead there was a bridge and a highway. There were no windows in the gulag. There were three large chambers in all, each one depressing and eerie.
I wondered why the Ugandan government had not considered it necessary to honour the memory of its citizens killed in those chambers during the Amin years.
South Africa has a museum dedicated to the anti-apartheid struggle where visitors have access to documentary films, photographs, posters and literature on the apartheid years. It is always a sobering experience for any visitor. Why, I wondered, did the Ugandan government not develop the death chambers into a tourist destination with the necessary visual aids mirroring the tragedy that had taken place in those years of descent to bestiality? A mistake not re-interrogated is a disaster waiting in the wings to happen again. As I watched visitors chat boisterously and pose for photographs within the walls of the death chambers my thoughts were on the souls that perished there. Would they, perhaps, feel violated that visitors were in such high spirits within the walls that spelt their own waterloo?
On the political front, General Yoweri Museveni has been president since 1986. There’s no indication that he intends to step down to allow another person have a shot at the job. The word in the streets now is that he’s planning to amend the constitution to extend age of eligibility from 70 to 75 so that he can run again. A-f-r-i-c-a!
As we departed the horror chambers it occurred to me that virtually every African country has had its own Idi Amin. The level of bestiality may have differed from place to place, but we all have our locust years complete with the era’s omnipotent Dracula.
That trip reminded me that the airports of other African countries operate round the clock, unlike here where planes are routinely advised to return to their departure point because of power failure. My Ethiopian Airlines flight departed Entebbe by 1.40am. We stopped over in Kigali without fuss. If Entebbe and Kigali and Kilimanjaro and Bole can routinely run 24 hours service, what is wrong with Nigeria that our airports virtually shut down at dusk?
Back home, PHCN’s radar hit a bull’s eye. Like clockwork the lights went out as I opened the front door. Someday, Bob Marley’s refrain will be true of Nigeria: “Everything’s gonna be alright…”