Whitehead Communications

Uganda youth need mindset change, not pocket change!

8/21/2017

Image source: http://www.eylean.com/blog/2016/07/the-inevitable-search-of-a-new-agile-mindset/

There is a very problematic mindset among people in Uganda who think first of getting money before valuing anything else that could actually bring them more benefits (i.e. customer satisfaction/loyalty, professional network, experience, work ethic, skills, etc.). The Project 500k team in Ibanda has begun offering free, useful, inspiring and life-changing education to youth. We quickly learned that most of the youth we were targeting actually wanted to be paid to attend these workshops! I understand if someone doesn’t have even $1 for transport to reach the venue, that is a boundary to participation, but people will pay school fees to pursue a degree that will not help them get a job, and yet when we are offering them employability and entrepreneurship skills for free, they just want cash.

Similarly, the Ugandan Government’s Youth Livelihoods Programme offers capital to youth groups who propose a business idea that could sustain them over time, but many rush to submit an application and then they take that money – which is meant to be a repayable loan – and just split the cash and eat it all immediately, without ever investing in the asset of a business that could continue generating profits to take care of their needs in the long term.

The youth of Ibanda and others who know the Ugandan situation better than myself keep telling me that youth here are only looking for a short cut to get rich. They want a life like their role models, whether it is Patrick Bitature or Kim Kardashian, but they do not want to go through the years of struggle that got successful people to where they are. Patrick started by travelling from Uganda to Kenya and back just to resell a few kilograms of sugar. His Simba Telecom empire began with a modest downtown hustle of selling phones, one by one. Kim Kardashian was a lowly personal assistant, organizing Paris Hilton’s closet, before she could afford to adorn herself with designer apparel.

One night, we returned to the Bitature residence in Ibanda after a Project 500k workshop and we were joined by Honorable Abbas Agaba (Kitagwenda MP and former President of NRM’s Youth League) and the State Minister for Works, General Katumba Wamala, who were in the area planning a new road. Of course, as the conversation flowed, these two could not escape our questions about the role of Government in solving the youth mindset problem. It soon became clear that this is not just a youth problem, but a national crisis.

Our discussion took the long route through the territory of Parliamentary greed, public ignorance, the archaic education system, flawed expectations of the electorate and the failings of a free and inclusive democracy. We talked of the tabloid take down stories, buying votes with soap or soda, and the distinction between campaigning and actually running a country. My Whitehead Comm teammate Florence Kakatshozi and our colleague Shakib Nsubuga shot one difficult question after another at these representatives of the country’s Government, and they indulged us generously, late into the night. General Wamala pointed out that, with time, things sort themselves out. After all, he said, when he was our age, he would not have been confident enough to sit at a table with an old man like he has become and have a conversation like this one. I asked him how he manages Government work when people are always coming to him for handouts, and he said that, to some extent, one must swim with the tide or drown.

Our group was split on how to proceed: do we meet people where they are – enticing them with incentives and facilitation, hoping that once we draw them in we can wake them up – or do we stubbornly refuse to fall into this unsustainable trap and take a more principled approach? Nataliey Bitature insisted that we refuse to play into a losing game by appealing to the mindset of just wanting cash today and to hell with tomorrow. She is a woman of robust principles. Others argued that this was not practical. We must appeal to the existing mindset in order to change it, and these people need money now. But if we reward begging, won’t that just reinforce the problem?

Standing on principle vs. being practical – it is a tricky balance. How to we shape a better world without isolating those who are not ready to embrace a better way? That is of course assuming that patronage and handouts are wrong, and it is better to work toward “a greater good” – using resources efficiently, equitably and ethically to build a more productive and empowered citizenry. Am I wrong?

How do we gently wake the sleeping to join us on a marathon, when it is so much more comfortable to stay in bed? That is my job, so let me get on with it… But if you have any ideas, please comment below before you go. I value what is in your head more than what is in your wallet!

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Can we say it as we feel it, fwaaa?!

8/16/2017

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Photo cred Florence Kakatshozi - Twitter: @Kakatshozi / www.ugandanstoryteller.wordpress.com

We finally reached Ibanda at 2am, a road journey long enough that we could have flown to England. That’s another story, from which the lesson I picked was to communicate better - like ask the driver “is this your first time driving to Ibanda?” before you fall asleep. I wasn’t asleep, I just lost my phone so wasn’t checking Google maps as I would usually, and I may have been the least qualified in the car to know where I was, but anyway… we arrived with five hours to go until we were to be on the job running a workshop, training trainers for Project 500K. I spent most of that time thinking about a conversation I had at 2:30am with my colleague, Shakib Nsubuga.

I asked Shakib, if he went to school in the UK, why didn’t he have a British accent? He said it was his choice not to change his accent in a way that could seem unauthentic, though there were times when adaptation was needed to be appropriate for the audience he was communicating with. We agreed that accents can naturally be fluid. He reminded me of a lot of reading I did in grad school about Accommodation Theory and how communication style adapts to the audience, group, and culture. I read studies showing that people change the way they speak to mimic the person they’re speaking to, even subconsciously. From childhood, we pick up on our friends’ slang. We also modify the volume of our voice, the speed, enunciation, tonation, pronunciation, and diction or use of language.

What causes this communication of accommodation? The most obvious reason is the desire to fit in with your people. Usually, we pick up on manners of speak from our friends. In secondary school, I used to say Brutal all the time, like exams and social blunders and everything was Bruuutal - because that’s what my friends said, and that was our worldview in the Canadian education system, free and relatively high quality though it was, in retrospect. Now, I am conversant with the meaning of Blessers and what it is to just do things Fwaaa! Again, something in this use of language reflects the culture of my friends now in Kampala, Uganda. I am sure anyone can name similar manners of speaking that they have picked up from their social groups throughout their lives.

The other side of being like your group, though, is not being like ‘the other.’ This can be problematic for anyone who communicates outside of one homogenous group. Trevor Noah wrote in Born A Crime that it’s easier to be an insider as an outsider than an outsider as an insider. Shakib suggested that it’s more acceptable to adapt as a minority toward the majority than the other way around, and that sounded sensible to me. Shakib and I both experienced coming back from somewhere else to our people from before, and being changed. Coming back with an accent can be suspicious. Where did you get that accent from? Is it fake? We judge, though we do not really know other people’s experiences.

Google defines “accent” as “a distinctive mode of pronunciation of a language, especially one associated with a particular nation, locality, or social class.”

It is easier to communicate in a British accent to British people, because they’re more likely to understand. Similarly, when I was a regular on Ugandan radio in 2010, my manner of speaking became more Ugandan to be better understood, then I learned that it can be offensive to simplify your English as if assuming that the person you are speaking to is not capable of understanding you as you are.

This conversation has continued among our traveling group, with my teammates criticizing certain Ugandan media personalities and Kampala socialites for modifying their accent in a way that seems artificial, when it is known that they have not left the country for long, or ever at all. Some thought that news anchors were trying to show off how they’ve travelled, or just wanted to be perceived as superior.

This begs the question: why is it wrong to consciously develop an accent that does not reflect your upbringing? Digging deeper into this question, my colleagues suggested that in Uganda, people believe that foreign-sounding English is superior to a local accent, which is the result of a widespread inferiority complex. More generally, there is an insecurity within people about how their voice reflects their identity. This train of thought leads to a larger discussion of social stratification, people’s aspirations and the offence of cultural appropriation, which I’ll leave for another day.

But what do you think? To what extent is our own manner of speaking unconscious? How much of our communication style is a choice, and are there moral guidelines we should apply to these choices? Oba we just say it as we feel it, fwaaa?!

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As crazy as washing cats

6/13/2017

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Source: http://www.life-with-siamese-cats.com/bathing-a-cat.html

From the balcony I saw my housemate Juko washing the cats in a basin. It must have been his first time, because no one washes a cat a second time. (Am I right? Have you ever tried?) The first one was the kitten Cordelia, and she didn’t fight back. She just froze in terror as he pushed her face close to the water.

But Romeo fought back. He was a kitten, but I can see that he’s a man now, the way he clawed against the bucket edge and lunged forward with Juko’s hands wrapped tight around him. Romeo is strong now. Through his short white and grey hair, you can see muscle tone. He got attacked by the dogs the first time he went outside, but now he roams around the compound freely and loses the dogs in the trees. I once saw Romeo jump eight feet in the air onto a tree branch. It was magnificent. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if the monkeys came through while Romeo was in the trees, and I hope I am here looking out the window at the time. Anyway, he was not going down in a tub of soapy water. It was very obvious to me that this cat was fighting for his life.

“Juko, you are washing the cats?”

“Yes, yes.”

“I don’t think they want to be washed. I mean, look. That one is fighting for his life!”

Juko laughed.

I considered making a Nalufenya joke and decided that was inappropriate. Juko told me that he wanted to dry the cats on the balcony, so I offered to help. I wasn’t optimistic about the plan, because it was around 6pm and there wasn’t a lot of sun left for drying, but nevertheless I went downstairs to find the cats.

Have you ever seen a wet cat? It’s possibly the most pitiful sight on earth. They’re so skinny like little rats, and shivering. I don’t know if a cat can feel shame, but a wet cat embodies the feeling.

“Salsa,” I asked my niece, “These cats need to warm up. What makes you feel warm?”

“I feel warm when there’s a hot breeze blowing on me.”

“You know, actually, that’s brilliant. I do have a blow drier… but I had something else in mind. What do you like to do when you get out of the pool and you’re all wet and cold?”

“A towel?”

“Yes. A big fluffy warm towel. Come on, let’s go warm up the cats.”

“We could also get your blow drier!”

“Yeah, maybe, Salsa. Let’s try the towels first.”

Cradling a kitten in a towel has to be the second cutest experience there is, and the first is watching a six year old do it. I should have taken a picture, but we were living in the moment. We got Cordelia and Juliet into the towels and on the mend from their near-death experience. I cautioned Salsa to be careful with them, because they were probably traumatized.

She understood and kept watch while I went looking for Romeo with a towel over my shoulder. I scoured the house and walked the tree line, using my phone as a torch, peeking around for where I might go if I were a cat, but I couldn’t find him. Having witnessed Romeo’s experience, I imagine it must have hurt his pride and he doesn’t even want to be found right now. I hope he comes back soon though. I’ll give him extra cuddles.

The moral of this story is: don’t wash cats. For the sake of human-cat relations, I beg!

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A Comical Tale of One Noisy Neighbourhood in Kampala

5/20/2017

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Source: https://www.aussie.com.au/blog/dealing-with-noisy-neighbours/

In the style of my friend and mentor Simon Kaheru, allow me to share with you today a true story of how ridiculous Kampala can be, with the caveat that I may come off as the aging grumpy neighbour in my own story who is failing to fit into a city that loves its noise. It all began one Friday (yesterday), after I’d gotten up at 5am to prep a client for a morning interview, then boda’d around Kampala from meeting to meeting throughout the day, constructed the beginning of another long report, and finally arrived home around sunset, exhausted and so ready to settle into a peaceful night of reading, yoga and sleep, just when it seemed everyone else around me was ramping up for a night of TGIF celebration.

That Friday evening, there turned out to be a party in my residential neighbourhood of Muyenga that had hired a PA system and cranked it to the max. The over zealous DJ switched from one song to another every ten seconds, though in the transitions each song bear no rhythmic or melodic resemblance. With an apparent desire to reach sensory overload, the DJ threw layers of random noises on top, from horns to ringing phones to his own shouting “owulila?” (yes, I hear you), while singing along off key over the entire song. At one point, the DJ began to make noises on the microphone that could have been an attempt at something like beat boxing, but instead sounded like the result of a large serving of beans. At that point, the whole charade felt like one of those humorous moments on a TV talent show when a horrifically inadequate contestant cluelessly and catastrophically failed with enthusiasm, and I began looking around for the button that I as the celebrity judge could push to make it stop and say “sorry buddy, try again next year.”

This is when, at 19:45, I turned to my new support group: the Bukasa-Muyenga Neighbourhood Watch Whatsapp group, a forum for my neighbours to communicate with the local community police (note: speak to your local officers about joining one for your security). As politely as possible in my exasperated state, I asked: “Dear police friends, when is noise pollution too much and we can legitimately seek action?” Knowing that my delicate ears may be clashing culture-wise with the Ugandan appreciation for a lively beat, I was seeking advice on how to approach what I had identified as a common problem in our residential neighourhood. I cited Hotel International as a frequent annoyance in playing loud music, and tried to explain how the sound echoed against my hill in a way that made it sound like my bedroom was right beside the DJ booth. I received no reply for an agonizing period, through which time perhaps the plentiful group membership checked the group and thought: “eh, this muzungu wants quiet on a Friday night? Leave her.” Then finally between 9pm and midnight I received two replies: one advised that I call Hotel International directly, and the other advised that I contact the Muyenga OC officer. After midnight, the noise showed no sign of stopping, so I did both.

It is not the first time I have called Hotel International asking them to please turn it down. Yes, that’s me calling, and I’ve been told that Dr. Ian Clarke tried this for years with the result of instilling a late shut-off, yet there has been no end to the echoing madness. This time, I was informed that the hotel number was not currently available, and at 00:03, I briefly wondered if perhaps the manager had not re-registered his SIM card and voice calls had been switched off. I waited until midnight to call the hotel, because last time this happened, they responded with a tone of confusion, explaining that they would turn off the PA at midnight, not understanding why blasting dancehall music might interfere with my Wednesday evening program of Netflix and chill (for the record, Sheebah’s “Farmer” does not blend well with particularly solemn moments in Black Mirror).

Then, I sent a Whatsapp message to my OC, explaining that some function down the hill (at the hotel or perhaps elsewhere) was very loud, and could he please respond to the noise pollution as a matter of environmental protection, appealing to the Environmental Police Force attached to NEMA, as advised by one of my neighbourhood watch members. The OC then informed me that the noise I was complaining about actually came from the wedding party of a divisional police commander, and it would soon come to an end. Awkward! I had landed in one of those Ugandan situations where my complaint was actually directed at the police themselves, so who could I go to for help?

By 1am, I was rolling back and forth in my bed with a level of frustration and hopelessness last experienced in a particularly terrible bout of rain-induced traffic jam on the way to an important appointment, and I was now regretting that I had planned a night in at all. I could have gone out on the town with my friends and actually danced to decent music, if I had known I would be cursed by this sonic oppression in my own bedroom! That is when I took to Twitter and, having been broken by the last straw of my exhaustion, I wrote to UMEME pleading with them to shut off the power in my neighbourhood!

As my Twitter followers enjoyed a good laugh, I began praying that the police commander would decide it’s time to go consummate the marriage and call it a night.

Ten minutes later, my prayers were answered! (Lesson learned: there are times in this country when only God herself can save you.) UMEME responded to my tweet with sympathy, but did not shut off the power, which was probably for the best. An hour later, I fell into a blissful sleep punctuated by bizarre anxiety-induced dreams, and a few short hours later I awoke to repeat the cycle. Oh Uganda, I love you. Police, I appreciate you keeping me safe (if at times a little insane). DJ, please go get some mentoring on how to do your job like a professional entertainer (there are plenty of great ones in Kampala that you can turn to). Dear readers, please let me know when you feel like a peaceful evening of introverted reading, yoga and sleep. You have a friend in me.

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11 parallels between the 2016 elections in USA and Uganda

11/9/2016

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I began 2016 as an ignorant Canadian abroad, and spent the whole year with my face pressed up against two foreign elections. I worked in Kampala through Uganda’s latest presidential campaign, and then travelled to Canada and the USA (Michigan, Pennsylvania and New York) in the final months of the American campaign. Despite the vast differences between these two countries and their politics, I couldn't help but notice many parallels between the two elections. A lot of people might think it’s crazy to compare an American election to a Ugandan one, but this was a pretty crazy election year, so please allow this humble traveler to throw a few thoughts together and make what you will of it.

1. Allegations of Rigging
I first started relating the American election to Uganda's when I heard Donald Trump claim that the American election would be rigged by the incumbent Democrats. Similar claims were made by President Museveni’s opponents leading up to the Ugandan election. In both cases, the ruling party reacted to claims of election rigging by warning that such talk is irresponsible and could cause chaos.

2. Thirty Years
Hillary Clinton often touted her “thirty years” of public service experience, which happens to be exactly how much experience Yoweri Museveni has had as President of Uganda. (Incidentally, I was also born 30 years ago, so clearly 1986 came back around in a big way in 2016!) Opposition supporters often jabbed at Secretary Clinton’s and President Museveni’s 30 years experience as a bad thing, like: “if you couldn’t get it done in 30 years, then will you make good use of more time?”

3. Populist Politics
Both Trump and Besigye accused their ruling party opponents (incumbent Democrats and NRM respectively) of being corrupt, elitist and only out for themselves, while appealing to populist ideals of returning the power to the people. It feels a little strange to compare Donald Trump to Kizza Besigye and Hillary Clinton to President Museveni, but the incumbent-opposition dynamics brought out similar strategies in both elections. Those seeking power would claim that those already in power are misusing it, and are not properly serving the majority of voters, particularly the marginalized and oppressed. Interestingly, both populist candidates – Trump and Besigye – are actually wealthy businessmen, themselves members of the privileged upper class that they so often criticize.

4. Social Divisions
As is probably inevitable in any election, the campaigns created a divisive environment in both countries this year. Candidates and their supporters blamed and insulted their opposition. Communities became divided on ethic and class lines. Opposition supporters openly expressed anger at the ruling class, while those in favour of the status quo became disdainful of people wanting change, with Clinton calling Trump supporters “deplorables.” In Uganda, Western tribes and Rwandans became targets of opposition supporters. In America, women, non-caucasian citizens and immigrants suffered a backlash when Trump stirred up the frustrations of a slumping middle class and white men feeling the erosion of their privilege. Interestingly, Ugandan NGOs campaigned for the people to remain peaceful through all this strife (#iPledgePeace & #iChoosePeace) while Americans just focused on getting out the vote.

5. Crowd Competition
Ugandans often equate a successful event with the large crowd it attracts, and the Ugandan campaign was full of politicians and their supporters bragging that their rally crowds were bigger. I laughed the first time I saw Donald Trump bragging about the size of his crowd, after learning in Uganda that rallies don’t necessarily translate into votes. Some people may not even be supporters and just show up to enjoy the spectacle. Nevertheless, in both countries, the size of the crowd mattered to voters. Competition among supporters led to allegations that the incumbent candidate was bussing crowds in, while the opposition drew larger and more apparently passionate crowds, which furthered the narrative of corrupt vs. populist.

6. Debate Drama
Uganda held its first ever live televised Presidential debates in 2016, and they were full of backstage drama. The President chose not to participate in the first debate, with some speculating that he was avoiding a game that would be rigged against him. When President Museveni showed up to the second debate, some reported that he had too much control over the moderators and was given the questions in advance. Trump and his supporters also claimed that the debates were rigged against him, though he showed up anyway. Wikileaks later released an email indicating that Clinton was provided questions in advance.

7. Media Lost Credibility
Americans and Ugandans became more cynical of mainstream media in this past election year, with social media having more impact than ever on the public discourse. In the USA, Trump supporters started calling CNN “Clinton News Network,” no longer trusting the network’s objectivity, similarly to how Ugandans recognized bias in their own electoral media coverage. As a result, many people turned to social media for their information, which meant that we were all barraged with information we couldn’t trust. Uganda dealt with this problem by shutting off social media on Election Day. The internet stayed on in the USA.

8. Hated Spokespeople
Ugandans and Americans both tired of political spokespeople, “surrogates” and “bots” this year. Many just loved to despise figures like Kellyanne Conway (Trump’s ubiquitous campaign manager) and Ofwono Opondo (Executive Director of the Uganda Media Centre, who supported President Museveni). They became laughing stocks on social media for parroting messages that many people just couldn’t believe. (Spoiler alert: Conway and Opondo ended up laughing last.)

9. Celebrity Endorsements
In both the American and Ugandan elections, nearly all the most famous celebrities aligned themselves with the incumbent candidate. Beyoncé and Jay Z held a concert for Hillary Clinton, while Juliana Kanyomozi and Bebe Cool led an all-star group in praising President Museveni with Tubonga Nawe. In both cases, supporters of the populist opponent vowed to boycott the celebrities who supported the ruling party.

10. Privacy Is Over
Before this election season, I thought that hacking pretty much only happened in movies. Then in late 2015, news broke in Uganda about Fungua Macho, a spyware system that the government had purchased to access private communications between opposition elements. In 2016, Wikileaks published thousands of emails between Clinton’s team for the world to read and interpret as they wished. Privacy walls were publicly demolished, serving as a wake up call to anyone dabbling in politics: dance like nobody’s watching, but write like it could be read aloud in court on live TV and then shared on social media for the whole world to make memes out of.

11. Social Progressives Lose
“This is painful, and it will be for a long time,” said Hillary Clinton in her concession speech to Donald Trump. “We have seen that our nation is more deeply divided than we thought.” Mainstream media pundits and social media timelines misled me to believe the results would be different. In both countries, the guy who many smart people mocked all the way through the campaign actually won, swept in by a huge population of mostly rural and less educated voters who have a totally different view of politics from the big city commentators. Uganda was less shocked by the results than America, but both elections broke a lot of hearts.

The main difference between these two elections is that the USA voted decisively for “yuge” change, while many believe that Uganda’s election was stolen by its ruling party. EU election observers reported that the Ugandan election was not free or fair, with widespread reports of malpractices. Despite Trump supporters stoking the suspicion of a rigged election up until the polls closed, no one claimed that Trump stole his win (update: though now people are talking about the popular vote, voter suppression, Comey and the Russians). Besigye declared a parallel parliament, while Clinton graciously conceded, and her supporters were forced to reflect on why Trump won. This is democracy. Now is the time for celebration and mourning, acceptance and reconciliation. The drama is not over though, because a reality TV star is President Elect of the United States of America, and it’s anybody’s guess what’s next.

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#KoiKoiUG: My First Safari in Tweets

8/6/2016

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#Ugandaesque: Khakis Aren’t Mandatory In #Uganda

7/25/2016

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The following story was first published by Olive Nakiyemba on her blog here.

I first arrived in Uganda in August, 2009. I had just finished my B.A. in International Development at McGill University and I had planned a year traveling around the world, with my first stop teaching English and French at a local Ugandan school in Kikaaya, on Mityana Rd. Little did I know that my 3-month planned visit would turn into the 3 years I’ve now logged in Kampala.

I was so excited and so naïve when I first came to Uganda. I’d been dreaming of coming to Africa ever since I was a little girl, and when the plane started descending toward Entebbe Airport, I felt like my heart would burst with joy! I had buzzed my hair in preparation for washing out of a bucket in the village, and I was dressed head to toe in Khaki, because like all Mzungus, Hollywood had taught me that khaki is like a mandatory dress code for the continent of safaris. I was confident that my time in Uganda would be incredible, but I didn’t know yet how. I had a few impactful moments along the way that made my life in Uganda what it is now.

First, I was seated on the plane beside Isaac Mulindwa (of Silk Events, PAM Awards, etc.) and he offered to show me the town, so a couple weeks after settling into Kikaaya village life, I caught a taxi to Kampala to attend a Bebe Cool launch put on my Silk, and that was my first step into Kampala’s music industry. I ended up moving into Kampala and managing Crystalklear music studio throughout 2010, which is how I met several of the celebrities whom I’m working with today, like Bobi Wine and Iryn Namubiru.

Then the type of crowd I fell into was so Ugandan. Like all things in life, there have been good and bad side to that. I’ve never been on a safari or even to Big Mike’s, but I can introduce you to some good bufundas around town. I’m just recently doing more work with international agencies, but I worked up to that through all these local-local jobs.

I left Uganda at the end of 2010 and came back in 2014, but I was never settled back in Canada. Through that time, I gained a Master Degree in Communications, and my thesis specialized in cross-cultural proposals. I worked for a year and a half in the communications industry in Canada, and then I left it all to come back to Uganda. I’ve been given opportunities to do such interesting work with so many remarkable people since I returned. It’s been an incredible journey. Along the way, I’ve learned some Luganda, and really so much about the way Ugandans think… In fact, in some ways I am starting to think like a Ugandan! For example: I now expect plans to be derailed when it rains. I no longer accept the first price I’m offered. I’ve come to feel very comfortable and safe in Kamwokya ghetto. I’ve become used to sitting side saddle on a boda and chuckle when I see white people holding on for dear life. I’ve become used to seeing the extreme differences between rich and poor, luxury cars bouncing along dirt roads, but it still hurts my heart to live with the inequality.
I’m not sure yet how long I’ll stay here, but I will always keep my mind open to new and different thinking, because it has been so rewarding to have my mind stretched by Ugandans.

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This one is for Mze #RegulateBodaBodas

6/25/2016

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I check my wallet for small change. The boda will only be maybe two thousand to the restaurant in Kabalagala. I greet Mze on my way out. Daddy. Jaja. The old man. He likes to sit at the dining room table over a pile of papers and books, and talk with me as postgraduates do. Mze was a lawyer, a businessman, a member of parliament. I left a bunch of my politics and anthropology books from university in his library, and he thoroughly enjoyed them. Now he teaches me about Uganda.

Mze would prefer that I walk or drive whenever I go out. I think he preferred to live in denial about me riding bodas, but I denied him that pleasure when I got a helmet. Honestly, I don’t really want to drive in Kampala. Traffic is crazy with potholes everywhere, cavernous ditches on the sides of skinny roads, and aggressive traffic that involves SUVs and taxis, trucks, bodas, bicycles, wheelbarrows, young women and babies, hawkers walking between cars anyhow trying to sell newspapers and mosquito zappers, and if you can’t imagine a greater anarchy, then it rains.

Walking in Kampala is not that much safer when there are rarely ever sidewalks, just jagged edges, traffic and ditches, and people everywhere with different ideas in their heads. It’s important to have some sharp ideas of your own.

My local boda guys are not available, so I greet my police neighbour-friends at the main road and think of what I’ve learned about choosing a boda on the move. I see one coming down the road without a passenger and check: is he wearing a helmet or does he even have one? Is he driving straight and steady? Does he see me, slow down, and park well, like he’s alert and sober? Now, once he’s closer, how sober is he, really? Are there any scars on man or bike, like maybe he had an accident recently? I once met a boda man with an IV still in his hand, because he was going back for more malaria treatment later – like maybe after earning the money?

The boda man who found me this time is wearing a bright safety vest. I’d count that as a plus. After a few words back and forth, I don’t see any red flags, and he seems like a man of integrity, so I hop on, tuck my purse between us, and tugende!

But is that really enough to put your life in a man’s hands, though? Judgment based on a thirty second exchange? That’s why I depend on a few boda guys I’ve known a while, who were referred to me by trusted friends.

Imagine: what if some very tricky traffic situation goes down and the boda man you just met is not on point. He’s not aware of his surroundings, he doesn’t check his side mirror, and his reflexes are slow. Maybe he chooses a risky pass and doesn’t properly anticipate the next move of the other vehicles around him.

Eh, driving a boda is more than just “mpola mpola.”

I wear a helmet, and I won’t lie to you, it can be a little embarrassing to walk into respectable corporate offices and tuck my helmet under the boardroom table. But those people in the boardroom value my brain, and I’m not trying to waste that all over Kampala pavement. Mze warned me too many times about boda bodas. I wouldn’t want to disappoint him. We still have so much to discuss, like #RegulateBodaBodas.

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Why Bobi Wine is doing so well right now in the Ugandan music industry

4/1/2016

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Bobi Wine performing with Nubian Li in Moroto, Karamoja, Uganda. Photo by Stefan Groenveld.

Photo from Barbie's social media

Uganda's 'Ghetto President' Bobi Wine is doing so well right now in the Ugandan music industry, and I think one important reason for this is the people he chooses to have around him. I am grateful to have come to know many of them in 2010 and 2014-2016.

Barbie is a smart, caring and hard working woman who is an amazing wife and mother, while also farming and managing various enterprises including One Love Beach, which is seriously in business. The kids are so well behaved, kind, well rounded, smart, informed and confident. Solomon has the potential to achieve real greatness in his life; I can see that already.

Photo taken on my iPhone in Moroto, Karamoja, Uganda

On our road trip to Moroto, Karamoja, I got to appreciate Nubian Li and Selector Davie even more, though I’ve known them for years. These are some of the best people I’ve ever met in my life: so thoughtful, genuine and caring. That is the Firebase culture: everybody does their part to make sure we’re all OK. They are good people, and they are free from limiting beliefs. The whole team is confident to make up their own minds and stand up for what they know to be true.

We have been arguing for years about things like feminism, gay rights, international politics and what to do about Uganda, but we always listen to each other and learn so much. On a road trip with Bobi, Nubian and Davie, I explored social and philosophical topics on a deeper level, challenged by their perspectives. I now understand Uganda better, because of everything these guys and others have taught me over the years.

Bobi Wine on the road

Road trip to Karamoja

Selector Davie

There are many special people in the Firebase family who participate in our talks, and contribute in other ways. John takes care of business… I won’t name them all, but Kim XP is notable: a video director, and more so a thinker who always brings a special viewpoint. He’s so truthful, even when it’s not easy. We all poke holes in each other's arguments and together try to find a better way to think, speak and act. It’s the dialectic method.

Kneckeboul, Bobi Wine, Ghanaian Stallion, Octopizzo, Megaloh, Maro

When the Viva con Agua team got back to Kampala for the #WeLoveYouganda concert in Kamwokya, the visiting artists Megaloh and the Ghanaian Stallion from Germany, Knackeboul from Switzerland and Octopizzo from Kenya were introduced to the other Firebase artists backstage. Bobi usually sends his Firebase artists to perform and hype the crowd before he gets on stage. This little guy Razor Blade enthusiastically climbed over the fence when the backstage gate man was asking for a wristband, and he surprised me with how amazing he was on stage.

Megaloh and Octopizzo both told me that they saw a great future for one particular Firebase upcoming artist known as Zex.

His songs are good, they said. Zex is a better singer than most, and did you see him perform? So much energy! Did you see how the crowd loved him? That one, Zex. He is a really good kid. You should do PR for him, they said.

Meeting with Zex AKA Bilangilangi

Zex often arranges bodas for me, along with so many other good deeds. He always welcomes me at HQ and the barracks in Kamwokya like I’m a long lost friend. I’ll do my part to give him what he deserves. That is the Firebase culture, which is led by Bobi Wine himself. Everyone takes care of each other, and for me I am often handicapped by my muzungu ignorance, so I know very well the benefits of a compassionate community.

Bobi Wine is not just one man, riding high on his ego to eat for himself. Bobi Wine is the people. The people in the Firebase family, the people in the crowds, the people who comment on his Facebook page, the people who are talking about his ideas across Uganda and the world. That is why Bobi is doing so well right now: he is one with the people, and they are all VIPs.

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Motivational Story

3/25/2016

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Once upon a time, there was a community of frogs,

said Bobi Wine [in my own words],

and as a right of passage, the frogs had to climb a mountain, in a competition to claim the crown at the top. All the frogs heard from their elders that there was an impossible cliff face that no one could pass. Sure enough, every time, when the frogs reached that point they would start falling, and none could reach the top of the mountain.

One time, the frogs were climbing and they began falling off rapidly at the “impossible” cliff face, but one frog maneuvered her way over, reaching a point where no frog had been before, and then she kept hopping right up to the top and claimed the crown.

This frog was deaf, and never heard it was impossible.

Think on that.

[Bobi says this story is from Canada, though I am hearing it from him first.]

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