When in Kampala, please keep off the grass

Always make sure the grass you choose is suitable for your kind of climate. Kampala does not have a mayor or any authority to ensure that manholes are closed risking its residents and citizens. But they have a force that polices walking on grass. PHOTO | SALATON NJAU |

What you need to know:

  • Uganda even has a navy without an ocean but then, there are also countries on this continent with dubious records on justice with Ministries of Justice.
  • Kampala does not have a mayor or any authority to ensure that manholes are closed risking its residents and citizens. But they have a force that polices walking on grass.

In my almost four decades of life, I have never stayed in any one country for longer than eight years. I suspect it’s possible that in my veins may run the blood of some nomadic tribe.

It is perhaps because of this that, even in the country whose passport I carry, I often find myself much of an outsider looking in.

Oddly this isn’t something that makes me uncomfortable. In fact, as a writer, it has been immensely helpful in giving me insights without the defensiveness that loyalty to a nation state sometimes burdens us humans with.

I say this as a small introduction (or re-introduction if the reader reads other weekend papers) to this column and to my sometimes amusing, other times sad and still at other times outright outrageous observations of my living or travelling on this rock called Africa.

Not too long back I found myself in Uganda for a literary event. This was not my first time in Uganda.

While my knowledge of other Ugandan towns beyond Jinja and Entebbe are limited, I’m in Kampala so often on account of being a member of a board for a continental literary prize that I consider myself enough of a local to recommend good places to hang out.

It goes without saying that I should know the rules of the land too, right? It seems not. I had a run in with the law on my last trip.

UNIFORMED FORCES
Now as anyone familiar with Uganda will tell you, the country has all sorts of uniformed forces. There are the white-wearing traffic officers, the black-clad anti-terror unit, police wearing brown, soldiers and many others.

Flip, Uganda even has a navy without an ocean but then, there are also countries on this continent with dubious records on justice with Ministries of Justice.

Now my run-in with the law was not with any of these brown, blue, white or black uniform wearing arms of the law. Rather, while crossing the road near the mall, I was accosted by five un-uniformed men.

Two of them flashed badges. The third, who seemed like the team leader yelled “we are the KCCA, you’re under arrest.”

And the other two just seemed to be escorting their colleagues for moral support.

I was taken aback since I was convinced there is a uniform for every arm of the law in Uganda. And I had never heard of the KCCA before either.

WALKING ON THE GRASS
Fortunately for me, they did not produce any handcuffs so while I pretended to look dazed, I quickly Googled KCCA. Turns out the five men I had offended were members of the Kampala City Council Authority. Who knew? But there was still the matter of my arrest.

“I’m under arrest for what?” I asked. I did not remember breaking any law. The one who seemed like the leader explained my offence. I had walked on grass as opposed to using the little tiled pathway.

“I’m so sorry officers, I didn’t know. I’m a visitor,” I said contritely. I learnt a long time ago that when dealing with people who think themselves authority figures, even a security guard, it helps to call them officer.

They asked me where I was from and how long I had been in the country. “I’m from South Africa and I’ve been here only two days, I’m so so sorry ssebo,” I said looking at The Leader.

It’s a good thing they did not ask for my passport because they would have seen that I am very much a regular in Uganda.

“Ah South Africa. Mandela’s daughter,” The Leader said in a friendlier tone of voice. Even in death Madiba still has magic. I nodded. “Go and walk on grass no more,” he said sounding Biblical.

KAMPALA MANHOLES
Now that we were all friends I asked cheekily as I left, “tell me officers, if we can’t walk on grass in Kampala, are we at least allowed to smoke it?” He wagged a finger at me in admonishment and told me to enjoy Uganda.

The day before I had just complained to some local friend about the manholes in Kampala that were open when I was last in the city. “What’s the mayor doing?”

My friend answered that Kampala did not have a mayor. After my near arrest I smiled to myself as I thought about it all.

Kampala does not have a mayor or any authority to ensure that manholes are closed risking its residents and citizens. But they have a force that polices walking on grass.

On the other hand I shouldn’t complain. When I told this incident to a Ugandan friend later on he countered with something even more eyebrow-raising.

His younger sister also got arrested by the KCCA and had to part with a USh20,000 bribe. What made this doubly funny for me was that she was on her way to a job interview with the KCCA.

You got to love this continent.