Uganda
As we crossed the Kenya-Uganda border, we began to realize we were nearing the final chapter of our journey. Eager to get to Kigali and have plenty of time to explore, we planned to only pass through Uganda, staying a maximum of three days. Upon arrival in Kampala though, we soon realized that would be a mistake. The Ugandan people, natural beauty, and political situation captivated our interest so much that we ended up staying seven full days.
The flat marshland that was Nairobi transformed itself into the rolling green hills of Kampala during our overnight bus. Never before had I realized how many shades of green existed until I looked at the Ugandan countryside. These deep green shades juxtaposed with the red soils and dirt roads created a picturesque landscape from anywhere in the city. Climb to the top of any hill in Kampala and you can see small informal houses clustered together for miles. Unlike any other city we had been to, motorcycles, or “boda bodas” were the primary form of transportation. These bodas honked and revved their engines up and down these hills 24/7, creating a constant, unique energy. They are easily the fastest way to get around, as they can weave and maneuver between and around cars with ease. They reduce traffic, yet add to the hectic atmosphere of Kampala’s streets. Since 80% of the labor force in Ugandan works in the informal sector, generating over 50% of the country’s GDP, the city does not operate under traditional working hours. 97% of Kampala’s informal firms sell directly to individuals or households instead of businesses, so many start work when those with formal jobs are leaving work and continue through the night. Rush hour seems to last all day. Kampala is a beautiful chaos.
In every new country we go to, we have to buy a new SIM card in order to use our phones. As we bought our SIM card in Uganda, we learned we wouldn’t be able to use social media, including Facebook, Twitter, and WhatsApp, without paying a daily “social media tax.” President Yoweri Museveni announced the tax last year to stop social media “gossip”, making Uganda the first country in the world to implement such a tax. At first we were perplexed as to why, but we soon found our answer.
Mr. Museveni, who has been in power since 1986, has been faced with increased dissatisfaction from rival political groups with each passing year he remains in power. Opponents have contested the legitimacy of every election he has won, citing voter intimidation, corruption, and rigged outcomes. Uganda has little economic or social progress to show from Museveni’s rule. The majority of citizens are not formally educated and live in extreme poverty. Museveni’s initiative to create a social media tax was one of many strategic decisions he has recently made to cling to power despite increased political opposition. The tax primarily seeks to slow down the rapid popularity one particular opponent has been gaining in recent months: Bobi Wine.
As a 37 year old musician turned politician, Wine poses the greatest threat to Mr. Museveni’s chances to stay in power after the 2021 election. Born Robert Kyagulanyi in the Kamwokya ghetto, Wine initially harnessed the support of the urban, slum-dwelling youth in Kampala, but his popularity has since swept the entire nation. He was elected to Parliament in 2017 and has since announced his political candidacy for 2021. His popularity has surged to an almost uncontrollable level in the past two years. Other political candidates which he endorses are almost guaranteed to win, regardless of which district they are from. Mr. Museveni is more than concerned. According to sources we met who know Bobi Wine personally, the current government offered him 500 million Ugandan shillings to keep quiet. When he refused, they upped the offer to 1 billion Ugandan shillings (over $250,000 USD). He still refused. The government now tries different tactics. He can no longer gain permission to hold any concerts, and some of his songs have been banned. Stores selling Bobi Wine merchandise on the street were shut down. But efforts to silence the newest Ugandan celebrity have only strengthened his voice. After being put in jail multiple times for charges ranging from treason to inciting protests, “Free Bobi Wine” graffiti has blanketed the streets of Kampala. The popular usage of the hashtag #freebobiwine online no doubt played a part in the implementation of the social media tax.
Bobi Wine’s rise to politician-celebrity might have been overnight, but the underlying forces were years in the making. In Uganda, 80% of the people still live in rural areas, where education levels are the lowest. With a few symbolic favors and some propaganda, the current administration has been able to maintain their support relatively easily. However, as urban areas like Kampala continue to grow and the population begins to become more educated, they are beginning to realize that the system is broken. Mr. Museveni and his political comrades seem more interested in lining their own pockets than providing basic services to the people in Kampala’s slums. With the murmurings of revolution already present, all that was needed was a charismatic leader. Insert Bobi Wine. If Parliament cannot come to the ghetto,” he said, “the ghetto will come to the Parliament.”
Urban political unrest is not unique to Uganda. Across Africa, young leaders like Bobi Wine are beginning to gain traction, igniting a revolutionary hope in the discontented urban masses of youth. In Kenya, Zimbabwe, and South Africa, to name a few, young leaders are proposing bold policies and reforms that are rattling the status quo. As urban people begin to realize their political power, political protests, and sometimes riots, are becoming increasingly common across the continent. Bobi Wine though, might be the most well-known out of any of these upstart leaders, and has a very serious chance of winning the Presidency in 2021, assuming the current administration is willing to transition of power peacefully.
To investigate this growing popularity, we went straight to the Kamwokya ghetto where Bobi Wine was born and raised. We walked into his recording studio, Fire Record Studios, and introduced ourselves to the man inside. His name was Iguriu Robert, although he goes by his stage name “The Inspector”. The Inspector has known Bobi for about 7 years. He said politics had changed Bobi, but not necessarily in a bad way. He has retained his humility and relaxed personality, but has become more serious and professional. He walks into the studio on a mission and does his work with purpose. There is simply no room for error. One slip up, and everything he has built could come crashing down. The Inspector took us to “The Barracks”, a popular hangout for Bobi and his peers. We met more of his friends there, one of which was the number one boxer in Uganda. Despite having only boxed on Wii Sports, I tried my luck at the punching bag in The Barracks and received a few pointers (Wii boxing isn’t great for learning the mechanics). After my boxing lesson, I was completely sold on Bobi Wine and his story, and asked if there was still anywhere still selling Bobi Wine merchandise on the street. All of the street vendors in Kamwokya had been shut down, but there was still one person who had what I was looking for: Bobi Wine’s brother. We went over to his house and met him and some more friends who knew Bobi. The hopes and freedom of an entire nation may be riding on him, but we were still able to casually hang out with his brother and friends. They were just as humble and down-to-earth as anyone I have met on this trip. If I was able to obtain Ugandan citizenship, my vote would be for Bobi Wine in 2021.
If Mr. Wine can overcome a corrupt political situation and still succeeds, other African nations may follow. Africa is younger than any continent and millions of youth become voting age with each passing year. The median age in Africa is 19.5, whereas its leaders’ average age is 62. Uganda is even younger than most African countries. 70% of population is below the age of 25. With numbers like that, change is clearly brewing. The problem is that in post-independence Africa, this change has ended in violence too frequently.
It is difficult to vote in a truly benevolent political reformer when the masses are uneducated or simply don’t have any legitimate power to influence governance. When leaders rely on money and favors from politically influential people to stay in power, they have no responsibility to treat the average voter well. In Mr. Museveni’s case, like many African dictators, he has retained his power through pure theatrics. He gives cars to priests and other influential leaders so he can campaign to their congregations come election time. He goes on tour to the poor villages and hands out rice or promises electricity. Hungry civilians cheer fanatically as he passes by, hoping for a hand-out, whether they genuinely like him or not. He has promised free education for years, but school fees are still so high that it keeps many children from attending primary school. This strategy is most likely deliberate. If the population was well educated, he would have been out of power long ago.
The quality of education is dependent on the price, so the poorest people go to the worst schools, making it that much more difficult for them to break the cycle. We visited a school in Kampala where school fees were some of the lowest in the country. No teacher at the school had attended a day of higher education. If they had, they would be too expensive for such a school to pay them. As it is, the director of the school is struggling to pay their current salary, ranging between 200,000–300,000 shillings per month ($55 — $83). Later, when we traveled to Kable, we met a college-educated teacher who was still making only 300,000 shillings per month. Frustrated with this, he has decided to go back to school part time to be an engineer while he continues teaching.
It is reassuring, however, to see the efforts of the Ugandan people in building each other up. Many who were blessed to have an education seem to feel an inherent responsibility to help those less fortunate. Our Couchsurfing host in Kampala, a 28 year old man named Musa, is one such example. Despite not having an indoor toilet or running water himself, Musa pays the school fees of 10 children whose parents cannot afford to put them through primary school. In Kabale, Uganda, our Couchsurfing host Harriet started a non-profit for disadvantaged kids. This situation is not unique to Uganda. In Lusaka, Zambia, we met a girl our age, Vanessa, who was paying the school fees of two younger girls. In Livingstone, Zambia, we stayed with Ivor, a man who started his own school for kids who couldn’t pay fees. In Mombassa, Kenya we stayed with Doris who did the same for orphaned children. None of these people mentioned above are rich. In fact, by American standards, all would be considered poor or very poor. But here, the need is so great that it is not uncommon to see any amount of excess being given away to those who need it more. I have seen more generosity from Africans without water than from Americans with mansions.
It has long been a strategy in African nations to artificially keep food prices low. Of course, this hurts farmers and does little to develop the country, but it makes food incredibly affordable for the consumer. Still, due to a variety of adverse conditions, many people struggle to eat. Traditional aid from Western nations and non-profits claim to feed children, but often, most of the money donated is swallowed up in administrative costs or smuggled by corruption. Donating clothes, rather than buying from producers directly, often creates artificial competition for local manufacturers and knocks them out of business, further wrecking the economy.
But when you are physically here on the continent, it is unbelievable to see how for $1 can go, if you know where to spend it. This is true especially in Uganda, where food prices were lower than any other country we visited. Our first night in Kampala, Musa had the idea of having a neighborhood feast for the large homeless population that stays outside his house. For $10, we cooked up a giant pot of fried rice and fed 50 people. Later, we went with Musa to his family’s village north of Kampala and brought some treats that the village kids can never get, except for the rare time they get to go to the city. For about $2 we put a smile on 60 kids’ faces. These are the types of small acts Musa does all the time because he has truly chosen to value happiness over money. Many say they do this, but Musa actually lives it. He understands the high that both the giver and receiver get in these circumstances adds more value to one’s life than the price of the gift.
As we traveled out of the Kampala and into rural Uganda, we found people could even survive on less money than in the city. Musa’s relatives in the village were subsistence farmers and almost exclusively lived off of the various fruits and starches that grew on their land. The rich Ugandan soil, some of the most fertile on the planet, can grow almost anything. Drop a seed, come back in a year, and you’ll have something to eat. We dined on mangos, bananas, passion fruit, pomegranates, ginger, sweet potatoes, plantains, peanuts, guava, cassava, maize, and avocados straight from the ground or off the tree. As we departed Kampala and traveled away further from the city, the rolling hills became steeper and the vegetation even more lush. We stopped in Mbarara for the night before arriving in Kabale, a small town near the Rwanda border. From there we were just a 15 minute boda boda drive from Lake Bunyonyi.
As we traversed this stunningly beautiful landscape while the sun was setting, we met a farmer named Aporro. Aporro was our age, but he had already been married for a year and half to his nineteen year-old wife Dorene, who was due in a few weeks with their first child. He had built a mud-brick house on the side of a cliff facing Lake Bunyonyi. Despite having a million-dollar view from their backyard, the young family wondered how they would get the money to pay for the hospital bill for their child’s birth. It was hard to wrap my head around how different Aporro’s life was from my own, despite having been on the same Earth as him for about the same amount of time. The sheer number of ways to exist on this planet are unfathomable. Wanting to better understand one of those ways, and provide some support to Aporro and Dorene, we proposed to return the next day with a mattress and some supplies they couldn’t get in their remote village. They enthusiastically accepted.
We spent the next day and morning (our final days in Uganda) on the side of the cliff overlooking Lake Bunyonyi with our new friends. Despite the vastly different situations we are born into, it became apparent how inter-connected we are as a species. I couldn’t help but draw comparisons between the personalities we found here with those in the village of Ongha, Namibia where we previously stayed for a week, and even those I have met in the cattle-raising small towns of western Nebraska. In fact, the Big Red state was closer than I imagined. As I walked down to the lake, I passed a woman wearing a Nebraska Football shirt! She had no idea what Nebraska, or football, was, but we laughed about the coincidence anyway. Laughter, like few other things, cuts across every culture and fills our hearts wherever we are on the planet.
