What I wanted to do a fortnight ago was have my say on the Tegla Lorupe Foundation race that takes place annually for/in Karamoja –Turkana. I kept on hesitating to critic the function because of ordinary fear. But today, a colleague on Karamoja Development Forum (KDF), a facebook networking group provoked me to unleash the dragon.
The race is I perceive, geared towards bringing together warriors from both the Turukana and Karamoja clusters for peace. Tegla herself is reknown for her athletic record. It is very difficult to exactly tell the way in which peace can be enhanced by letting the guys come and run a short distance within a small radius in town. I thought a cross boarder race could give a fairer accountability of this peace building claim and also demonstrate unity and the feat of peace. But, I suspect the people who matter in this arrangement believe in the long speeches that get translated to the local language listening crowd who by the time of the talking are really tired and hungry and are obviously very inattentive.
During the recent race in Moroto, am sorry to mention that the organisers were on sweat hunting for willing bodies to take part in the activity. Well, there were some chosen few known athletes and some cheap –to-maintain warrior squads from both Kenya and Uganda. They were partially facilitated mainly by way of packing them behind pickup trucks and some in the spare tyre space in the Land Cruisers, the Tegla T-shirts and then, their food (they like posho and beans...I suspect they were given) which is cheap. And what next, the question of egg-like people takes a lot of resources normally –unfortunately!
My KDF colleague thus commented, “...so called Peace race that has yielded unreasonable results so far in four races ...” I go by what he thinks although I don’t know his argument. But, basing on situations on the ground, I say peace is still indeed wanting in Karamoja and that Turukana side of Kenya. The numerous peace meetings I attended show a very bad relationship between Turukana and Tepeth people. There is a village called Naut in Katikekile parish Tapac Sub County in Moroto that can attest to this. As we communicate now, people have flown off from Naut because of constant attacks or threats of attack, animal raids and killings of humankind by suspected Kenyan warriors.
The other reason one could easily indict the Lorupe thing for merely coming to Moroto or going to Kapenguria for a bash, is the way more affluent lot are big beneficiaries of the dollars thrown in by sponsorors of the occasion. For instance during the recent race held in Moroto, I wondered how little the would have been real recipients were made to pocket. I did not properly verify the money figure, but the first in the race did not take what is more than Ush 250000/= the third took just Ush 100000/=, and really few they were.
Another bad sign was exposed when the Master of Ceremony (MC) asked participants and...’OTHERS’ to go for lunch. NB :( lunch was served at 5:00PM, so it was lunch /supper –to even reduce the cost). The MC said this:
“...all the registered participants in the race are asked to go to Moroto Municipal Primary school for their lunch, all the officiating participants to go also to Moroto Municipal Primary School... but some where different from the other participants...and the invited guests will be received at Hotel Leslona for their lunch and refreshment...” here now just think about the expenditure at Leslona and those at the primary school. Who should have been where? And who is more important or fragile in the deal for creating peace for the conflicting warriors?
Tegla Lorupe Foundation should think beyond annual lobbying for big dollars for printing cheap T-shirts, facilitating town based short distance races and throwing party for “invited guests”. Think of a more visible, tangible and result oriented project that can create lasting peace, security and improve the livelihoods of the warriors across the border forever. Otherwise, this one off race is becoming a very bad type of Christmas or Iddi!
Friday, June 8, 2012
Thursday, May 31, 2012
TORORO CEMENT, THE KARAMOJA MARBLE PROJECT AND THE LABOURERS
As law makers from Karamoja sub region wake up from their deep sleep and start barking at people they suspect to be hacking the land resource in the area, more inhuman acts should be the number two question in the queue of unfair Karamoja ventures in my view.
I write here with regards to what Tororo Cement Factory is doing to its servants – the Karimojong locals – the third class workers inputting to the cement factory from the marble mining site in Moroto district. It is a big act of exploitation of humanity- similar to those of the colonial time. In fact now I understand why historians argue that neo-colonialism is worse than the official colonial operations. One rough idea could be; well, that Africans then were in the hands of European masters, but today even a continent like Asia that never had muscles to colonise can fit in the masters’ title because of its financial and business strength.
The other emblematical reason is one in which I am a witness. It is one in which Lokwakipi Lokwang, a resident of Kosiroi marble mining site is a victim. Reader, my pen went heavy as I scribbled down this story. I forced the driver to pinch the break at a site where Lokwang was performing the donkey task. First, I apologise for failure to carry my digital Cam that could have displayed the real donkey task to viewers. Nevertheless, the facts are in the next paragraph.
The excavator exhumes huge stones and leaves them out in their colossal sizes because men should break them up using locally twisted heavy metals; it’s not bad, because the men will be paid money. This stones are so hard and men have to cut trees and fetch big logs to hit the stones up so they can easily split them; it’s not hard since cash is involved. But men prefer to work on an individual basis possibly so the big cash can go to an individual; its okay since ready money is the answer. A big truck should be loaded with the stones and when it’s full is when the worker is paid; fine –cash is coming. The whole battle to fetch stones that can fill a marble truck takes between two to three weeks.
I watched the task Lokwang was performing for a quick five minutes. It was like a scary movie on slaves and slave trade in colonial Africa, yet this is a normal way of earning a living in North-Eastern Uganda. As I coiled back to the car, the Lucky Dube song, “I am a slave ...a prisoner...” that was rocking on the heavy Nissan Patrol car provoked stupid tears from my skull, but nothing more than saying it on the blog, can I do!
The factory buys a fully loaded lorry of marble at Ushs.110,000/- (one hundred, ten thousand Ugandan money only). This is where I feel, the legislators should take over from when they get done with the land gymnastic. I know am not very good at sciences, but I tried hard to balance the equation of the work to the remuneration given and it just can’t come. Lokwnag told me that his colleagues tried to advocate for an increment of the pay to some Ushs. 250,000 but no master wants to listen to this. They threaten “if you say so then we shall bring machines to break the stones...” he said.
Now I hear this deal of milking Karamoja without feeding has been given to Tororo Cement for a couple of years. A lease am told, of 25 years was given to the cement factory to continue doing what they do in the place until time comes for its renewal again. I hope the lives of individuals who are engaged at the site will also be fresh as the factory continues gaining profits by hiking the price of cement and reducing the pay for the stone fighters.
However, they say the factory does a good tax paying job by releasing almost some 40 million shillings almost annually to the local government. How big is 40 million? May be quite big! But we need to pray for the roads and the people who could not be knowing the current global economic stand. Let me rest the case here for now.
I write here with regards to what Tororo Cement Factory is doing to its servants – the Karimojong locals – the third class workers inputting to the cement factory from the marble mining site in Moroto district. It is a big act of exploitation of humanity- similar to those of the colonial time. In fact now I understand why historians argue that neo-colonialism is worse than the official colonial operations. One rough idea could be; well, that Africans then were in the hands of European masters, but today even a continent like Asia that never had muscles to colonise can fit in the masters’ title because of its financial and business strength.
The other emblematical reason is one in which I am a witness. It is one in which Lokwakipi Lokwang, a resident of Kosiroi marble mining site is a victim. Reader, my pen went heavy as I scribbled down this story. I forced the driver to pinch the break at a site where Lokwang was performing the donkey task. First, I apologise for failure to carry my digital Cam that could have displayed the real donkey task to viewers. Nevertheless, the facts are in the next paragraph.
The excavator exhumes huge stones and leaves them out in their colossal sizes because men should break them up using locally twisted heavy metals; it’s not bad, because the men will be paid money. This stones are so hard and men have to cut trees and fetch big logs to hit the stones up so they can easily split them; it’s not hard since cash is involved. But men prefer to work on an individual basis possibly so the big cash can go to an individual; its okay since ready money is the answer. A big truck should be loaded with the stones and when it’s full is when the worker is paid; fine –cash is coming. The whole battle to fetch stones that can fill a marble truck takes between two to three weeks.
I watched the task Lokwang was performing for a quick five minutes. It was like a scary movie on slaves and slave trade in colonial Africa, yet this is a normal way of earning a living in North-Eastern Uganda. As I coiled back to the car, the Lucky Dube song, “I am a slave ...a prisoner...” that was rocking on the heavy Nissan Patrol car provoked stupid tears from my skull, but nothing more than saying it on the blog, can I do!
The factory buys a fully loaded lorry of marble at Ushs.110,000/- (one hundred, ten thousand Ugandan money only). This is where I feel, the legislators should take over from when they get done with the land gymnastic. I know am not very good at sciences, but I tried hard to balance the equation of the work to the remuneration given and it just can’t come. Lokwnag told me that his colleagues tried to advocate for an increment of the pay to some Ushs. 250,000 but no master wants to listen to this. They threaten “if you say so then we shall bring machines to break the stones...” he said.
Now I hear this deal of milking Karamoja without feeding has been given to Tororo Cement for a couple of years. A lease am told, of 25 years was given to the cement factory to continue doing what they do in the place until time comes for its renewal again. I hope the lives of individuals who are engaged at the site will also be fresh as the factory continues gaining profits by hiking the price of cement and reducing the pay for the stone fighters.
However, they say the factory does a good tax paying job by releasing almost some 40 million shillings almost annually to the local government. How big is 40 million? May be quite big! But we need to pray for the roads and the people who could not be knowing the current global economic stand. Let me rest the case here for now.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
WISDOM OF THE TEPETH ELDERS
This week I found delight in documenting some of the ingenuities that God the all mighty has given to the Tepeth people. The people of the mountain. Mountain Moroto. Their wisdom as reflected by the way they named their sub county, their parishes, their villages, their...
Tapac is the sub county and the name comes from the fact that wide seasonal rivers and bloodcurdling valleys are commonplace both on the way to and inside this land. There is also Natumkale - the parish; ‘ngikalei’ is a Karimojong noun for kids (the young of goats). Natumkale is a description of ‘fat kids’. They told me the name was given because young of goats are really healthy in this parish.
Another is Katikekile - the parish. There is scarcity of water in this place and an old story has it that one time a man drowned inside sand in the course of digging for water. So the place was named ‘Katikekile’ which means ‘it pressed a man’. Then comes, nakonyen the village; ‘ngakonyen’ in ngakarimojong is the eye. The name is got from the business of the eyes in looking all round especially when one is conscious of external threat. The Tepeth named this village baring in mind the insecurity problem in the location. Indeed, when you are in nakonyen all your senses should focus on insecurity. It is one spot in Tapac with the highest level of threats. Threats of attacks from Matheniko and threats of attacks from the Turkana people of Kenya.
There is also Kosiroi -the village. ‘Ngisiroi’ is a Karimojong name for some small size type of wild animals commonly known as digidigis. Am not sure if ‘digidigi’ is English, but at least I have ever heard even an English man call the animal the same name. Kosiroi was named so, because of the big number of digidigis (ngisirois) in the area. You will also find a village called Naut. ‘Ngauuata’ is ngakarimojong description of valley lands. The village is precisely sited on this type of land, hence its name.
I equally find beauty in the naming of Nakwanga -the parish. Ekwang is white thing in colour for ngakarimojong. The parish of Nakwanga has got majority white looking trees according to the Tepeth. I think they also considered white flowering flora that are common here. So the name was created. It is ‘white environment’ -to loosely translate for you. Another village is Adulai. Ngidulai are granaries (food stores) in the above local language. The Adulai people had lots of granaries and so the Tepeth thought the place suits being called Adulai.
Now think about Didi village. This is just a description of a narrow path. Apparently, the way to Didi village is quite slim. The village is located in the middle of rocks up far on the mountain top with white snow oftenly hanging lazily above it. In their acumen, the Tepeth had to say this place is Didi. When you come to Lopelipel, you will be told that the name was given because of the gradient of the way from this village. ‘Epilipeli’ in ngakarimojong is a depiction of ‘hilly and rocky’. If you know this village, then you must know why non-4WD vehicles cannot easily climb through despite the well graded road.
Funny names are many in Tapac. In fact all places are named because of a thing or two. Let’s talk about a village called Naracuc. The Tepeth told me that deep into the heart of this village up in the thick of snows, flies cannot survive because of the coldness involved. I visited naracuc but time blocked me from reaching the snow spot where Francis Lowal’s family live. But reader, it is a beautiful environ. It has beautiful rocks and valleys. Beautiful people. Beautiful...I’ll tell you all tomorrow.
Even just Lotorongor is a funny village name. Lotorongor is found in Natumkale parish at the border of Kenya - almost nearing the great East African rift valley. The name Lotorongor was derived from ‘angorianut’. This is ngakarimojong for dirtiness. Boy, people here are true dirty human beings. Think about a dirty person as said by a warrior...it is real dirtiness of the body and of the environment. So by the time a warrior calls a thing dirty, it is more that it. A scientist would describe it as death.
The story is too big here, but I have little space and little time on this precious weekly blog of mine. I will stop here, go home and think about another thing for my audience because I can’t write a Bible! Why talk of a Bible? There are 31 villages in Tapac, all with their interesting meanings. So over 31 descriptions of meanings will use up my ink. Let me attend to another life-line for now and for the rest of this week...
Thursday, May 17, 2012
NAKONYEN, THE COSMOPOLITAN VILLAGE
With a population of over 500 people, a chunk of land that touches that of Pokot-land, that of Matheniko and nearly the soils of Bokora; Nakonyen village is a distinctive rural setting that needs special focus by people in the development steer ring.
This south western Tepeth home place is famous for numerous things. Most NGO and government facilitated tribal, cross border and clan conflict peace talks in the warrior districts of Uganda and Kenya are convened in this village. Nakonyen has Kenya Pokots from the Northern districts – people from Alale area, Uganda Pokots from Amudat district to the south of Karamoja, the Tepeth themselves from the mountains of Moroto and some -not easily identified Matheniko and Bokora people.
It is unbelievable, but these people coexist in this rich piece of land for several reasons. According to Mzee Lomiat Eliya, a top opinion leader of the Tepeth in Uganda, Nakonyen is yet to be discovered and built up. “This is the place where the Tepeth would have settled if there was security,” Eliya says as he struggles to break the virginity of the flora from a plot he admires for the growth of cereals.
Although it is put at the rank of village, Nakonyen is more than even a parish; it is actually capable of a Sub County. The ‘village’ has four settlement points; there is Naturungole at the central vicinity, Longolebukut South of the locale, Napukoret to the East and Lonyaa in the Western quarter. Three of these are Kraal locations, save for Lonyaa which is a shamba-land and -a free for normal hut building spot.
Why does anyone think that most development partners choose Nakonyen for peace negotiations of tribal conflicts? It is because the place is not only one of the major crossing points for raiders, it has a mix of people living together but also a hide out for criminal characters. The people in Nakonyen can be raiders and can also be used to block raiders. They can ambush and do killings, yet can also be used to crash people who do such killings. But what is important to mention about this vast village are the attractions of its inhabitants.
Two main things have invited people to Nakonyen; the fertile-virgin soil with a rain belt placement that favours crop cultivation and the sexy green grass that makes animals ever healthy and ever happy. Although the village has only one borehole as a water source, the community here are persistent and are ever active digging and shouting after their animals. Cultivators come from such Tepeth villages like Timngorok almost at the Imaget some 30 kilometres away.
After seeing all said above, I will not end before warning you land-hungry man of the obvious stinking insecurity in Nakonyen. Die-hard men and women who do human sacrifices for traditional reasons also live here. Die-hard hunters who can turn their bows and arrows and guns on innocent men of God also live here. Die hard raiders who solely rely on the art of animal theft for livelihood are members in this jungle.
Nevertheless, looking at how people struggle to find at least some thing to do in Nakonyen, I feel government and her partners in development can achieve bigger things for this cosmopolitan community. The local government could give Nakonyen a sub county status straight so a visible headquarter is created. The offices would call for the provision of maximum security and the need for revenue for the sub county development would enahance the establishment of market places. Being at the border, I see a great market for both animals and imported goods from Kenya.
Other partners would fill other gaps like health and educational services delivery. Then the virgin chunk of land would be put to use. Otherwise the truth that needs to be told is that the Tepeth are cheated as long as Nakonyen will keep being referred to as a village. Me I call it a sub county already because of its size and its potential to sustain itself upon any government initiated development... full stop.
This south western Tepeth home place is famous for numerous things. Most NGO and government facilitated tribal, cross border and clan conflict peace talks in the warrior districts of Uganda and Kenya are convened in this village. Nakonyen has Kenya Pokots from the Northern districts – people from Alale area, Uganda Pokots from Amudat district to the south of Karamoja, the Tepeth themselves from the mountains of Moroto and some -not easily identified Matheniko and Bokora people.
It is unbelievable, but these people coexist in this rich piece of land for several reasons. According to Mzee Lomiat Eliya, a top opinion leader of the Tepeth in Uganda, Nakonyen is yet to be discovered and built up. “This is the place where the Tepeth would have settled if there was security,” Eliya says as he struggles to break the virginity of the flora from a plot he admires for the growth of cereals.
Although it is put at the rank of village, Nakonyen is more than even a parish; it is actually capable of a Sub County. The ‘village’ has four settlement points; there is Naturungole at the central vicinity, Longolebukut South of the locale, Napukoret to the East and Lonyaa in the Western quarter. Three of these are Kraal locations, save for Lonyaa which is a shamba-land and -a free for normal hut building spot.
Why does anyone think that most development partners choose Nakonyen for peace negotiations of tribal conflicts? It is because the place is not only one of the major crossing points for raiders, it has a mix of people living together but also a hide out for criminal characters. The people in Nakonyen can be raiders and can also be used to block raiders. They can ambush and do killings, yet can also be used to crash people who do such killings. But what is important to mention about this vast village are the attractions of its inhabitants.
Two main things have invited people to Nakonyen; the fertile-virgin soil with a rain belt placement that favours crop cultivation and the sexy green grass that makes animals ever healthy and ever happy. Although the village has only one borehole as a water source, the community here are persistent and are ever active digging and shouting after their animals. Cultivators come from such Tepeth villages like Timngorok almost at the Imaget some 30 kilometres away.
After seeing all said above, I will not end before warning you land-hungry man of the obvious stinking insecurity in Nakonyen. Die-hard men and women who do human sacrifices for traditional reasons also live here. Die-hard hunters who can turn their bows and arrows and guns on innocent men of God also live here. Die hard raiders who solely rely on the art of animal theft for livelihood are members in this jungle.
Nevertheless, looking at how people struggle to find at least some thing to do in Nakonyen, I feel government and her partners in development can achieve bigger things for this cosmopolitan community. The local government could give Nakonyen a sub county status straight so a visible headquarter is created. The offices would call for the provision of maximum security and the need for revenue for the sub county development would enahance the establishment of market places. Being at the border, I see a great market for both animals and imported goods from Kenya.
Other partners would fill other gaps like health and educational services delivery. Then the virgin chunk of land would be put to use. Otherwise the truth that needs to be told is that the Tepeth are cheated as long as Nakonyen will keep being referred to as a village. Me I call it a sub county already because of its size and its potential to sustain itself upon any government initiated development... full stop.
Friday, May 11, 2012
THE PARTY THAT ATE THE WEEKEND
What a party! I have never known by the book what men and women need in a party. Over the weekend there was this brief revelry organised by my work colleagues to pat Patti. Patti was our admin lady. Upon directives from above, she is taking her expertise to a bigger office in a different location with the same employer.
Two things drew my attention as a free man in a new world of teetotallers. It wasn’t the music, not the pithy munchies or the party outfits, but the speeches and the temperament. Ok, lady Jacky who was at the skyline, presided over the thing. Jacky did not make a full vocalisation; I know she could have, but as a pivot, one has to touch here, turn there and open space for representatives and generally to make everything possible. She was perfect - to say the least.
As cold wind from the Imaget slithered in the milieu of the party birds, you could tell that some things seem missing for the gentlemen and ladies around. Well, the table at the centre had some drinks –mainly beer for Simon’s friends and sodas for my associates. But my colleagues still looked lost! Some are looking at the heavy sky, some at the pithy munchies. I could not blame the new staff seated like observers of a community event...I think the heaviness is partly because of the foreign-like weather and the absence of lady guest of honour. Honestly Patti came later, and edibles were frozen already.
Tommy, the guy that was charged with speaking for my village mates observed that Patti was going away but should rest assured that she will be remembered by the villagers for her smartness in doing work. Patti’s common avowal “it’s not nice...we have issues...” were according to Tommy some of the things that will make her remembered.
For me Patti is a perfectionist lady who treasures smart work, clarity and plane facts. If you took unfinished work to her, she would kindly ask you to clean it up. If you returned to her with another gap undone, she would say “it’s not nice...and wordy you a lot to make you feel flippant. This -we should face it, is administrative character. As a mild administrator you will not last long and will do poorly because the administered will let you down and of course let you go!
Another big boss with a bible name also coddled Lady Patti along the same line of work. That she loves transparency. That she is a lady of precision. Dan thanked colleagues for keeping Patti safe and wished her well in the new office.
Like already hinted of her, Lady Patti came down to say sorry to those she could have exasperated during her time with us. She could have not said this, but I think she did it because speakers had spoken their hearts about her. She must have felt loved by the mere fact that colleagues understood her and said it without hiding what she really is. I observed the nonconforming emotions with which the jean lady spoke. She wanted to cry because she could not probably stand the weight of love as expressed by friends.
The next business was the music. Some prickly song was played as the crow flies to raise the curtain for the dancers, and the man who took the jean lady to the podium was John himself. John is the man in charge of local procurements and maintenances and welfares and securities and stock and...
As a very busy man or a man of numerous appointments, I left this place shortly. I had to leave because in any case I did not have electricity. It seems people caught fire right away and burnt themselves quick. Next day in office, the pictures taken by one of the common boys were pretty crazy! But the big thing had happened and happened successfully.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
FOOD HUNTING IN THE TEPETH LAND AT THE BORDER
Where else can we get food if not from this very hard soil? This is the question I envision as would come from my mouth if I were one of the hundreds of Tepeth people living atop Mt. Moroto at the delicate border of Uganda and Kenya.
At the level of learnt people (Ugandans), the debate about the plight of the Karimojong just cannot end. The difficulty results from stinging poverty as measured mainly by the level of hunger. The arguments of intellectuals about this.... I staggered with one on facebook the other day until I don’t know...
As I plot a route to Adulai village someplace in the corners of rocks up the Moroto Mountains; deep emotions fill me. This is caused by the painful sight of young things struggling with life in this isolated spot of the world. The sight reminds me of Lokito, the little boy I met in Napakakimul village last November. Lokito like I narrated to girl friend then; wore nothing to cover his skin but had a fat bundle of firewood on top of his frail head.
His story is: Lokito stays with a deaf, blind, crippled grandma. This is too much...it sounds like an exaggeration but true. Very true. I rejected the info until a stopover at the corner where Lokito and old Nakolong subsist.
Lokito does the cooking, hunt for water, tilling the rocks to grow some sorghum... He has no house, but struggles to thatch cabin where the old thing sleeps. About links of this family, I never got transparency and cannot have it on pen and paper. The only believable chapter says the Turkana people of Kenya in a revenge attack killed 15 people same night in the homestead that was. The incident happened close to a decade ago. Baby Lokito and old, deaf, blind, crippled Nakolong were left, for they could add no point to the revenge project. End of the recollection.
Back to Adulai, The young girl struggling with the weight of a hoe is Nadiim Achuuka. She is young for that work but she has to do it in order to be able to eat. The Tepeth people have fertile soil with fair vegetation coverage but the rain is unpredictable. It can come and go away when it likes and the crops will dry. When heavy long down pour is achieved, the crops are swept away. Look at that background...looks good for agriculture, but the Tepeth have never had food.
NGOs and government agencies like NAADS work here. They put effort and double effort but tomorrow the Tepeth will again go die in Kenya because they need food. Some analysts now say building the capacity of the people on crop growing is the way to go. But will the Tepeth grow crops on rocks? How about the water erosion? We probably need a multibillion dollar project to straighten things for the Tepeth and the Karamoja people at large. But most importantly these people’s voices are not hard. Leaders?
Somehow when you are here, here in this Adulai route, you can deem that the decentralisation policy and the splitting up of the Country into small pieces as Mr. Museveni is doing might create some difference. Just some difference I say. I simply just say. A mere statement.
Ok, you might think a leader for the people of Adulai, one for the people of Didi, another for those people of Nauut in Tepeth-land; or separate ones for the people of Lokali, of Kalapata in Dodoth-land; or independent ones for the community of Toyepetoto, Nailikonyen in Bokora could be helpful for them in parliament. Other communities in villages like Losimit, Sakaale in Pien including the villagers of Kadaam and Loroo in Upe could be heard crying too!
But when we get to know book, we tend to have intellectual forces. Intellectual forces cannot allow us agree on one theory. When one person designs a strategy, other brain workers will first critic it. They’ll strive hard to find more weaknesses and limit the projected advantages. This discourages the ‘trial and error’ method that experience says is the reason for success of most scientists in the world of physics. Mine is prayers what about you?
At the level of learnt people (Ugandans), the debate about the plight of the Karimojong just cannot end. The difficulty results from stinging poverty as measured mainly by the level of hunger. The arguments of intellectuals about this.... I staggered with one on facebook the other day until I don’t know...
As I plot a route to Adulai village someplace in the corners of rocks up the Moroto Mountains; deep emotions fill me. This is caused by the painful sight of young things struggling with life in this isolated spot of the world. The sight reminds me of Lokito, the little boy I met in Napakakimul village last November. Lokito like I narrated to girl friend then; wore nothing to cover his skin but had a fat bundle of firewood on top of his frail head.
His story is: Lokito stays with a deaf, blind, crippled grandma. This is too much...it sounds like an exaggeration but true. Very true. I rejected the info until a stopover at the corner where Lokito and old Nakolong subsist.
Lokito does the cooking, hunt for water, tilling the rocks to grow some sorghum... He has no house, but struggles to thatch cabin where the old thing sleeps. About links of this family, I never got transparency and cannot have it on pen and paper. The only believable chapter says the Turkana people of Kenya in a revenge attack killed 15 people same night in the homestead that was. The incident happened close to a decade ago. Baby Lokito and old, deaf, blind, crippled Nakolong were left, for they could add no point to the revenge project. End of the recollection.
Back to Adulai, The young girl struggling with the weight of a hoe is Nadiim Achuuka. She is young for that work but she has to do it in order to be able to eat. The Tepeth people have fertile soil with fair vegetation coverage but the rain is unpredictable. It can come and go away when it likes and the crops will dry. When heavy long down pour is achieved, the crops are swept away. Look at that background...looks good for agriculture, but the Tepeth have never had food.
NGOs and government agencies like NAADS work here. They put effort and double effort but tomorrow the Tepeth will again go die in Kenya because they need food. Some analysts now say building the capacity of the people on crop growing is the way to go. But will the Tepeth grow crops on rocks? How about the water erosion? We probably need a multibillion dollar project to straighten things for the Tepeth and the Karamoja people at large. But most importantly these people’s voices are not hard. Leaders?
Somehow when you are here, here in this Adulai route, you can deem that the decentralisation policy and the splitting up of the Country into small pieces as Mr. Museveni is doing might create some difference. Just some difference I say. I simply just say. A mere statement.
Ok, you might think a leader for the people of Adulai, one for the people of Didi, another for those people of Nauut in Tepeth-land; or separate ones for the people of Lokali, of Kalapata in Dodoth-land; or independent ones for the community of Toyepetoto, Nailikonyen in Bokora could be helpful for them in parliament. Other communities in villages like Losimit, Sakaale in Pien including the villagers of Kadaam and Loroo in Upe could be heard crying too!
But when we get to know book, we tend to have intellectual forces. Intellectual forces cannot allow us agree on one theory. When one person designs a strategy, other brain workers will first critic it. They’ll strive hard to find more weaknesses and limit the projected advantages. This discourages the ‘trial and error’ method that experience says is the reason for success of most scientists in the world of physics. Mine is prayers what about you?
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
THE DEATH OF A LOCAL MAN OF SCIENCE
Morris Xavier Owona, Teacher at Moroto PTC
Morris died after anguish from scores of illnesses. He had his kidney shattered. His liver devastated. His lung smoked off. He could have died because - liquor his long time friend became a foe at long last.
He smoked cigarette since childhood and drunk a sea of pungent fluids like he created it. Yet, he taught like a preacher-man against the same drugs. But he also knew health science like he could never touch spirit.
Now he is gone because he could not practice what he really preached, so to speak. The science he taught is commonplace in Karamoja, other beneficiaries took it to Teso and some let it reach Bugishu. I think some seeds could have scattered to other parts of Uganda. Who knows, people traverse the world with their knowledge. But Morris is no more.
In my view, he is not to blame. I condemn the convolution of things in this world. One would slam God for creating such a world where knowledge and thoughts sometimes fail to work as a team. But to blame God is to lobby for a free ticket to enter the kingdom of Satan. Yes, we all know that God is the omnipotent. We cannot blame the omnipotent! So who do we blame?
In his last days, Morris talked a lot about life in the past and in the contemporary. He did oodles of comparative analysis about the two worlds. He certainly needed a chance to stay alive again and teach the world better. But God denied him the opportunity. Ok, God knows better.
I sat and talked with him many things. I didn’t ask him questions, but he put many to me. He challenged me on the way of life. He hated the young of this generation who abused alcohol and called them “a shame of the age”. He didn’t want to talk about his own video with the same drink because he had stopped shooting it completely.
His enemies called Morris a mad drunkard. Some referred to him as an indisciplined teacher. Others said he was a naughty, arrogant dirty character. While several others didn’t care about his lifestyle and only looked down upon him...just like a child whose age probably is the problem. But Morris was an adult in his middle 50s. Ok:
His friends will miss him for his generosity. Like most Karimojong people he believed in sharing and always wanted to be with a companion while on a lunch table. He also valued constructive debate especially on intellectual topics and this was only constructive when he is sober any way.
He was quick at recommending young eloquent debaters for political contests. He called the current MP for Labwor County, “a man with a long vision but with a personality that needs scrubbing a little from the inside of him”. He said Mr Ayepa had a small heart.
He argued that people with small hearts cannot repress emotions for long. “They are hot tempered” he roared. I tried challenging him that hot temper can be for the good or for the worse and that Hon. Michael’s temper is actually for the public good. But Morris won the debate. He said “electorates will not analyse you like academicians. They’ll use one scanty scenario, magnify it and political opportunists will use it against you for selfish gains”. The bottom-line, I liked his brain. He even knew his complications as a bedridden man. He probably even knew that he would go. He was intelligent.
My very last moments with Morris was at his college home in Moroto. I played for him South African music of the apartheid age. He loved it so much. I also played some older songs from the Congo, Tanzania and Kenya. He said the songs would take him back to the 70s when he used to play football as a student. Songs of Vvon Shaka Shaka and other African artists of the 90s also dug old memories from his head.
Now he is gone, as this sentence comes to an end, let me play some more of these South African songs just to make me remember Morris’s last words for the youth of today and tomorrow. May his soul rest in perpetual peace.
Morris died after anguish from scores of illnesses. He had his kidney shattered. His liver devastated. His lung smoked off. He could have died because - liquor his long time friend became a foe at long last.
He smoked cigarette since childhood and drunk a sea of pungent fluids like he created it. Yet, he taught like a preacher-man against the same drugs. But he also knew health science like he could never touch spirit.
Now he is gone because he could not practice what he really preached, so to speak. The science he taught is commonplace in Karamoja, other beneficiaries took it to Teso and some let it reach Bugishu. I think some seeds could have scattered to other parts of Uganda. Who knows, people traverse the world with their knowledge. But Morris is no more.
In my view, he is not to blame. I condemn the convolution of things in this world. One would slam God for creating such a world where knowledge and thoughts sometimes fail to work as a team. But to blame God is to lobby for a free ticket to enter the kingdom of Satan. Yes, we all know that God is the omnipotent. We cannot blame the omnipotent! So who do we blame?
In his last days, Morris talked a lot about life in the past and in the contemporary. He did oodles of comparative analysis about the two worlds. He certainly needed a chance to stay alive again and teach the world better. But God denied him the opportunity. Ok, God knows better.
I sat and talked with him many things. I didn’t ask him questions, but he put many to me. He challenged me on the way of life. He hated the young of this generation who abused alcohol and called them “a shame of the age”. He didn’t want to talk about his own video with the same drink because he had stopped shooting it completely.
His enemies called Morris a mad drunkard. Some referred to him as an indisciplined teacher. Others said he was a naughty, arrogant dirty character. While several others didn’t care about his lifestyle and only looked down upon him...just like a child whose age probably is the problem. But Morris was an adult in his middle 50s. Ok:
His friends will miss him for his generosity. Like most Karimojong people he believed in sharing and always wanted to be with a companion while on a lunch table. He also valued constructive debate especially on intellectual topics and this was only constructive when he is sober any way.
He was quick at recommending young eloquent debaters for political contests. He called the current MP for Labwor County, “a man with a long vision but with a personality that needs scrubbing a little from the inside of him”. He said Mr Ayepa had a small heart.
He argued that people with small hearts cannot repress emotions for long. “They are hot tempered” he roared. I tried challenging him that hot temper can be for the good or for the worse and that Hon. Michael’s temper is actually for the public good. But Morris won the debate. He said “electorates will not analyse you like academicians. They’ll use one scanty scenario, magnify it and political opportunists will use it against you for selfish gains”. The bottom-line, I liked his brain. He even knew his complications as a bedridden man. He probably even knew that he would go. He was intelligent.
My very last moments with Morris was at his college home in Moroto. I played for him South African music of the apartheid age. He loved it so much. I also played some older songs from the Congo, Tanzania and Kenya. He said the songs would take him back to the 70s when he used to play football as a student. Songs of Vvon Shaka Shaka and other African artists of the 90s also dug old memories from his head.
Now he is gone, as this sentence comes to an end, let me play some more of these South African songs just to make me remember Morris’s last words for the youth of today and tomorrow. May his soul rest in perpetual peace.
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