For these I shall live, and fight!

Thirty nine I have lived here

Look, there is nothing left

I have lived here

I have eaten sweet fruit here

I have drunk bitter herbs here

I have licked sand, clay, ash, salt and sugar here

Look, there is nothing left

Nothing left for me!

Six months I crawled in earth and space

One year I stamped the earth for space

Ten years I combed bushes for fruit and space

Twenty years I fought for honour, love and space

Thirty years I wrestled for honour, love, justice and space

One, twenty, thirty, thirty nine, fighting for honour, love, justice, life and space

Look, there is nothing left

Nothing left for me!

Nothing!

Thirty nine I have lived here

Look, there is nothing left

I have lived here

I have eaten sweet fruit here

I have drunk bitter herbs here

I have licked sand, clay, ash, salt and sugar here

Look, there is nothing left

Nothing left for me!

My heart swells to bust

My eyes hang to fall

My nose sniffs to clog

My mouth opens to chock

My ears flap to irritate

Look, there is nothing left

Nothing!

Thirty nine I have lived here

Look, there is nothing left

I have lived here

I have eaten sweet fruit here

I have drunk bitter herbs here

I have licked sand, clay, ash, salt and sugar here

Look, there is nothing left

Nothing left for me!

Nothing except hope

And for that, I shall live, and fight

Someday I shall have them back!

A Prophesy for Rafael Magezi and Beatrice Anywar

Last night I had a dream. There I were at the top of Tororo Rock, my legs crossed, my eyes closed, my joined palms beneath my chin. I was praying for a VISA to Somalia. I could see a very beautiful Mogadishu. It looked like Chicago. Never mind I have never been to any of those cities.

I had a strong voice call me by my middle name: “Odinga, Odinga, open your eyes”. I opened. Then I saw from atop a shrub flickers of blue fire. In them appeared to be a face of a man. From it the voice came again:”Odinga, Odinga, you can now close your eyes.” I closed them again. 

“You have seen God,” the voice said. I started to tremble. The voice came again: “Odinga, Odinga, do not be afraid. Now, listen carefully. I have a message for my children.” There after deep silence engulfed the area. In the ground I felt a strong tremor. I felt the ground was about to swallow me. But I kept my eyes closed. Soon after the place was calm again. The voice came again:

 “Go tell Rafael Magezi that beneath the earth I am present. Above the earth and beneath the sky I am present. Above the sky I am present. I am God.

“Go tell him that from me comes life. From me comes wisdom. From me comes the gift of love.  I am angry with him for abusing my gift of wisdom. I am angry with him for abusing my gift of love. For that he will receive my wrath. Let him watch out for the third moon from today. For then he will feel my presence.

“His banana trees will bear stones. His goats will produce rats, and his cows will give sour milk. I will give him a long life of torment, long enough for him to receive the rebuke of his grand children. For my gifts of love and wisdom are supposed to be shared, not to be thrown in mud.  

“Odinga, Odinga, listen carefully. This is the voice of God.

“To my child Beatrice Anyar, go tell her that I am very angry. For throwing away my gift of wisdom, for throwing away my gift of love, I am angry. I give her enough food bus she is never satisfied. She eats soot. Her heart is now as black as her skin.

“Tell her to watch out for the third moon from today. For then she will see my wrath. Evil spirits will attack her every night.  They will whip her back with rubber. They will flog her by the womb. They will stick needles into her feet. She will call my name but I will not answer. She will wail but I will be silent. For my gifts of love and wisdom are supposed to be shared, not to be thrown in mud.  

“Odinga, Odinga, Odinga” 

“Yes my Lord!” 

“This is the voice of God.” And there was silence. 

After a while I heard a bell ring. I opened my eyes. I was in my bed. So it was just a dream. The ring was a six o’clock alarm I had set in my phone. It was just a dream people.

Nalubaale: Could this rock be the origin of Lake Victoria’s local name?

Africa’s largest lake sits calmly in a shallow basin, surrounded by green vegetation. In 1858 British explorer John Speke named it Victoria, after the Queen of England. The locals in Buganda, however, already had a different name for it, Nalubaale. Where did the name Nalubaale come from? The answer could be found in a small rock the size of a bus leaning against Mpata Island in Buvuma district.

Our voyage to this point on October 31, 2017, started at Ripon, a dilapidated historical docking point in Jinja. Ripon’s misery is instantly thrown into one’s face by a dead railroad and some rusty stationary ships. It was a little after midday, sunrays flickered gently on the water surface, and the lake was generally calm.

Eric at Ripon

L-R: Ronnie, William, George

Our speed boat was as comfortable as they come. Powered by two engines of 115 horse power each, it cut through water with the sleekness of a knife penetrating butter. We kept walking across and taking selfies as it sped further south into the open waters. Water birds, floating, swimming and softly diving into the water as we passed by added to the harmonious environment, and made me reflect on the peace I felt being out there on the water. It was a sharp contrast to the noisy, polluted atmosphere we had left behind on the mainland. 

L-R: Stephen, Ronnie, Beat, Eric

William

Dan

In about twenty minutes we were riding past Malongo, the main gateway to Buvuma Island. The Kiyindi - Malongo ferry was on the water with cows, cars and people, sailing slowly towards Kiyindi. Memories of Buvuma Island, of Walwanda and Kitamiro dwellings, came flying back. I had enjoyed every moment of my stay in Buvuma on my two previous visits. My first visit there was in 2014 on a government mission. It was a full week of work in fishing communities that was as educative as it was entertaining. I fell in love with the Island. I returned to the Island in 2016 on private business and this time it was a few crazy days and nights. 

On my last night, the owner of the Guest House where I had stayed on both visits, an old man with so much experience and many interesting life stories, offered me a drink. For the first time I drank “Eagle Lager,” made by Nile Breweries, and that was because it was the only beer available. One, two, three, I swallowed. On the fourth bottle, eagles started to fly inside my head. Tightly holding my half empty Eagle bottle by the neck, I slowly escaped from my dosing host and dived into my room, hoping to finish it in the morning. Just as a precaution, because I was totally drunk, I decided to hide my wallet such that in case an intruder came in unheard they would have a hard time finding it. I hid it from myself instead. The morning came. My cargo had been booked on a boat destined for Kiyindi. I was supposed to go with the morning ferry to get there at least 45 minutes before my cargo arrived. There I were, stuck, unable to locate my wallet. Finally, I found it in one of the corners of the mattress after about 20 minutes of absolute confusion. I confessed my sin and swore never again to get close to Eagle Lager. She was not made for me!

Buvuma Island has in the last two decades been steadily losing its natural forest cover mainly due to increased human settlement and the demand for timber and charcoal on the mainland. And now that BIDCO, a vegetable oil company, has bought chunks of land there to plant oil palm, in a couple of years the natural forest will be no more. How I will miss your beauty Buvuma! 

 

Nyenda Island

As we moved ahead we passed between several Islands including Mukwaya and Mpunga. Near these is another called Nyenda. Nyenda’s vegetation was vividly intact. Looking small in size, it stood tall and firm among its neighbours. A cloud hovered over Nyenda and started to move towards the mainland. I started to imagine which part of the Victoria basin would receive its rain. My guide explained that Nyenda Island had no people. I appreciated this insight. We humans are by far nature’s worst enemy. 

In a short while we were docking at Bunda landing site, on Mpata Island. People, curious to know what the uninvited guests wanted, started to gather. From our initial interactions we understood that this was not where we specifically wanted to dock.  We wanted to be at Nalubaale landing site, just a couple of kilometres away from here. After exchanging some pleasantries we jumped onto our boat and headed to Nalubaale.

 

We were here for two things. One, to present to the fisher community the owner of over 50 acres of land a small part of which they had occupied and two, to reflect on projects we could implement here. The locals had long waited to see their landlord. They were anxious about their future given land wrangles and rampant evictions occurring throughout the country. Through our team leader, also their landlord, Ronald Kiyimba, we assured them that they were safe. We would co-exist here. 

Community meeting

Our tour took us to a shore with eye catching ridges, perfect for artistic imagination, perfect for photo shoot backgrounds. 

On the other side of the beach are clear white sands, an ideal place for swimming and sun basking. About 80% of the land is untouched natural vegetation, purely balanced by natural factors. You could hear sounds of birds and apes from a distance.

Nalubaale

Then there is this rock, Nalubaale. The locals here believe that the name of Africa’s largest lake, Nalubaale, came from this stone. Nalubaale holds spiritual status. Different groups of both traditional and foreign beliefs often visit it to perform rituals from there.

If Speke discovered Victoria, Beat, Dan, Eric, George, Ronnie, Stephen, and I discovered Nalubaale - The Rock. Welcome to Nalubaale!