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‘In my quietest moments’

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‘In my quietest moments’



You, also, now, observe for yourself that now miracles are happening at a speed even this truly magnificent writer did not think more about. We are driving ourselves into places which I imagine, and see. Paradise on earth!

I said we would get there.  The other doubter thought I was joking. No, I do not lie. We are here pulling the honeyed world, swinging it, from the other part, to this way.  Life now seems to want to become so easy for us.

Indeed, things happen.  Don’t give up. I am still here with you and, my friend, just believe. Unless they come out to disrupt our peace, here, at the temple, we shall leave politicians alone. Let them debate salaries and lecture us how poor MPs cannot represent the common person well.

You said it, that you needed enough money, so, let the common man, who does not believe that people, like you, need all the luxury you need, crucify you.

Al Hajji Muhammad Nsereko, you needn’t explain to them. A vernacular newspaper twisted your words, and now, no respect for you, the legislators in this country.

You will, for evermore, be seen as goons, as unpatriotic men, and women, who gobble whatever is brought before you. So suffer, because you wanted it. I will not speak for anybody. This country has so many problems that we, the wise around, in it, must solve.

This road that Betty Kamya is taking, I saw it. We must sit these people down and teach them how to make enduring riches. Now, she felt insecure, while there, in Lungujja, and blundered, and bit off all the fingers that would have fed her for the rest of her life. Kamya must answer! Even these writers I am training will one day ask her why she acted so desperately.

Full of greed and selfishness, Betty Kamya accepted a job from her former adversary .Kizza Besigye, this is the time, I one time told you about, that you were wasting. Luck is perhaps against you.

But, remember, as we were eating dust, you were in this government enjoying the fruits of your labour. You participated in the Gorilla war and, I think, you were given what you deserved? Though less than thirty years of age, you were a big man, in government! In my quietest moments I think about such things.

Temple growing stronger! Let’s push it hard, my friends!  Look, the other one is crying. He is calling upon us to help him.  Yes, we shall! We march on!

You know, I chose to spend most of the time, this year, thinking hard for this country. I go away, to the jungles, and think and keep quiet, and pray to ‘our’ God.

I looked at what happened on February 18, and looked at the childish politics that Besigye played, and got disappointed. In me, I got annoyed. I saw people, mature people, betraying this country. I heard words from experienced politicians and, within myself, I sobbed.

Now this is our country.  Our country is poor.  A lot of people, in this country, go to bed hungry. Even those who, on the surface, look well-off are well-known, by informed people, to beg from whoever cares to listen to them.  We must develop this country. See this, my friend:

Musicians, who sang in favour of the incumbent, must be left alone. Who wouldn’t want to be paid to sing for men with power? Mark you, those boys, at least most of them, are self made. They made themselves!

Neither Besigye nor any one, we knew, pleaded when some of us lacked fare to board buses. So in bus corridors we used to travel. We went hungry and suffered hard. All of you saw my ribs when I was still so poor. People laughed as poverty poked our heads, full of thinning hair. Come on! Poverty will drag you along this hard path. Stop pretending here.

Right, you could, but Chameleone could not refuse money. I know Mr. Bindadi Ssali very well and he knows my family, too. I know, very well, that a child he bore could not chase away money from Museveni.  Bindadi Ssali, and Kintu Musoke, and Kirunda, are serious money lovers. Stop crying and go to work!

Time comes and a Obote goes and another fire spitting man comes in. He also then goes. I will, one of these days, go to the graves in Kasanje and observe how the people, we fixed there, are behaving.  Oh my word! So many people sleeping in those things were perhaps so great during their life time. They growled, like dogs, to intimidate their opponents but now, they went.

Who said the world would not move on? In my quietest moments I think of the Hitlers, the Edisons, the Fords, the Muhammad Alis, the Milton Obotes, the Paul Waibales and this one you praise. The Mandela! They all slept and God, Himself, is saying, “I will groom My other own.”

Stop this kind of arrogance. The grave stones are holding bones that were hard enough. No more! I am now quiet because, look, I see trouble ahead, around here. March on! March on, and never, never be afraid! It is our time! With vigour, turn up next week!

Sekka is a writer, An Inspirational Public Speaker and a Sports Scientist.

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