Behind Closed Doors: RIVER NILE FLOWS UPWARDS

JINJA town was miles away north of my home village Salye in Buikwe. I used to listen to stories by our village drunks that unlike many rivers, Nile flows northwards crawling from Jinja to the white man’s land. These stories used to beat my understanding since I was very sure that moving northwards involved climbing over high rise cliffs, hills and mountains. And this could as well mean that Jinja was a town buried six miles under in the valleys of a Musoga man’s land! And I remembered that when my beloved grandmother brought me from Mbale, she had whispered into my ears that electric power is first generated at Jinja and then supplied to the rest of the country. So this later became my sole evidence for my arguments that it is this generated power which forces the Nile waters to move upwards towards Gulu town and then as far as my eyes could see.

In my teenage years I got a golden chance of visiting Jinja town. This opportunity was not only about exploration, but it was a love adventure as well. I had managed to go against all odds and won for myself a cute teenage Munyankole girl-Winfred who lived in Jinja town. The first time I escaped from home and joined a group of our village gangsters, one of them had immediately introduced me to Winfred’s photo and I fell in love with it. I got her school’s contact address and kept in touch with her by writing love letters on flower petals. Arrangements to meet were eventually finalized, and one Saturday found me going to my heaven at Jinja.

When I reached at the source of the Nile, I was surprised for not witnessing any explosion or simple spark of power that forces the massive volumes of the Nile waters to flow upwards. But since I was on a love mission, my minds drove me to go and see the golden queen of my heart. I found Winfred beautiful, fleshy and succulent! I could not hold my love saliva when she gave me a very juicy smile and a fat hug!

Winfred made me tour the outskirts of Jinja including Mbikko town where we took our empty stomachs to enjoy a meal of two fresh lovebirds. I still wanted to establish the reason why the Nile goes northwards but was swayed by Winfred’s uncontrolled romance that even ended into my first innocent fall out of Eden.

Years of overwhelming remorse went by as I continued to curse myself and any girl who resembled a Munyankole or Musoga. I believed that these girls were strong allies of the magical powers that turned the Nile to flow towards Gulu instead of Kampala. And if a girl like Winfred could afford to lure such a holy boy like me to commit an abomination of sleeping in a home away from home, how could I ever again trust a Munyankole girl or any other girl from Jinja?

It was after years of great turbulences in my life that I at last encountered another girl from Jinja. At first I had sworn to myself never to touch anything I regarded unclean, especially those female creatures from Busogaland whom I heard that even their language is a photocopy of Luganda. But for this time, the girl I found looked like she was not a real Musoga. When I investigated to find out her surname, it had no difference from that of the first Muganda on planet earth.

On top of that she had adopted a tiny jolly looking boy child she had named Peter, to grow under her care and support. So she looked responsible. But I still doubted her tribe. When we met in a church Cell at Bweyogerere Kampala, several times, she could never utter a vernacular word. I later discovered that she worked for Uganda’s leading English daily. This discovery made me avoid her more. It was on record those days that journalists were self-proclaimed FBIs for the government of Uganda. They had even allied with the wicked powers of hell to shake the foundation rock of the holy church of Christ. So when I saw this nice looking lady called Angela Kintu I had to keep a distance and keep my eyes wide open for any eventuality.

One Saturday evening I got two muscular big teens from my Uncle’s home at Bweyogerere, and headed for a holy fire crusade by the celebrated Pastor Benny Hinn all the way from the United States. Namboole Stadium was on fire for hosting this celebrity Pastor whose holy hands on the silver screen could pull down flying airplanes and even raise deceased terrorists from death. The two fat muscular teens forced their way through an expectant jubilant crowd of the faithful, as we made our way towards the pulpit where the holy man of God was going to place his feet of glad tidings.

Fortunately for me, I bumped into Angela standing lonely amidst an anticipating rowdy crowd. I instantly thought she had been sent from the royal house of the President to spy and detect the loopholes of this American evangelist’s crusade. But she was so friendly to me and the two very muscular teenagers. She even bought for all of us expensive snacks and soft drinks, as we all stood in silence to witness the live miracles from the US. We also held our feet firm on ground, since we had heard stories that Benny Hinn was even much more capable of turning entire stadiums upside down.

After the crusade in which several infirmities were healed and stubborn demons sent packing into the lake of fire, we decided to go back to our residencies. The two very muscular guys were guarding the two of us as we sailed down out of the stadium. But as we headed for a backyard dark street towards the western gate of the stadium, we fell into an ambush of military-like thugs. They claimed that Angela had directed a torch towards their car, and immediately began hitting us below the belts. The two very muscular guys put their best feet forward and took off as fast as their legs could carry on to save their dear lives. The military thugs who looked like the boys in blue embarked on me and Angela and unleashed all their terror on us. I think I suffered the most as I struggled to protect Angela from the rain of batons. But we maintained our cool and let the thugs go without fighting back, and continued walking step by step back home.

The two very muscular guys finally sneaked out of their hiding and met us along the way, as they continued spitting fire and swearing how they would have thoroughly thrashed the thugs if they had been given chance. Angela felt sorry for them and rubbed their backs while inquiring whether they had not sustained any injury during their flight. She had scribbled on paper the plate number of the thugs’ vehicle and kept saying that she was sorrier for us than I expressed my concern over the beatings she had received. Since that terrible incidence, I took long to see Angela again, apart from reading her humorous articles in the government daily.

It was until I had been involved in a terrible accident in Kiboga which almost took my life that I again heard from Angela. She called me from her office and counseled me over the tragedy and promised to get back to me. We kept exchanging text messages and sometimes short phone calls. It was until I came up with the idea of writing Christians’ testimonies that she offered to come to my office and provide me with technical assistance as far as creative writing is concerned.

However, I remained skeptical towards her and tried my level best to watch my words and behavior towards her. She was so sweet to me, remembering that she had even disclosed to me how she caught her boyfriend red-handed with another girl, whom she discovered was carrying her boy friend’s child! It was an emotional disclosure, but I didn’t offer her any meaningful comfort. So when she came to my office, she behaved like a mad person. She was so much in a hurry that I felt guilty for having invited her. I had even postponed some serious appointments just because this journalist was coming. Fortunately, I had written my operational plan of the project on paper. She took the paper and kept advising me on possible strategies as she headed for a boda-boda stage to rush and go back.

When she went, weeks came and went without hearing from this treasured lady again. I finally decided to write her a letter saying;

“Dear Angela. I hope you’re okay. How are you getting on with the fatigue and stress at work? Thank God that Peter is miles away from your workplace; otherwise he would have made you go through the roof!

“Cell again! We are okay.  Did you know that Julian took off from the 53^rd CHOGM parliament in Kampala and fled to Accra for the MTN African Cup of Nations final? But rumor has it that she instead went to scheme for “bonna bagaggawale” of Ghana and she’ll be back mid December to assess the CHOGM aftermath at her workplace!

“We adopted a patient (Mary) in our Cell and last week five of us visited her. She has three kids aged between three and eight years. Unfortunately her youngest girl-child too tested HIV positive but is not yet on medication. She also lost her work and is now stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. Fortunately, she gave her life to Christ and now attends a nearby local church. We really need to stand with her.

“Joy and Lillian also started a children’s Cell, with Joy as a host and senior facilitator, every Saturday eve. I think now this is reasonable enough for you to bring back Peter since he is already a Cell member. Any way, Susan, Moses and Julian conferred (I think via webcam) and proposed that we meet every Saturday for Cell instead of Wednesdays. It sounded too good for some members who work up-country and for those who are always too busy on weekdays. But for some us who love watching Manchester-Arsenal-Chelsea madness on GTV felt pity for our dear Saturday being trampled upon. But the issue is still debatable. Let me hope no one will propose a Sunday for Cell!

“I think you got time to read through “my sickness” on paper concerning the By the Word writer’s club. It is really in my heart and I have an overwhelming passion to see it blossom into a life-changing initiative. I still need your advice and support. The few minutes I spent with you the day you visited, transformed my thinking to better levels. I came up with an operational design (see attachment) to execute the activities more effectively for God’s glory. But I still need your guidance where necessary because I’ve been invited to discuss the initiative before KPC Pastors very soon. I think you do not need to bother yourself coming all the way to Bweyogerere again! We can still communicate via e-mail, if you have some simple commercial breaks at work.

“Thanks Angela, and let me rush out of this guy’s café. He is too strict on time, yet very reluctant on speed! See you. Michael.”

After that mail, I waited for Angela’s reply in vain. One day I found a missed call from her and I too decided simply to beep back. But one evening when I was walking back to my tiny room to rest, she called me and talked for hours concerning her busyness at New Vision. She also read through my operational design on phone and encouraged me that it made some sense to her. My heart finally got some relief, since I had anticipated that Angela would instead bite my head off for my weak brains via creative planning. So I communicated back to encourage her keep up the spirit of sharing her life with me. I wrote saying:

“Dear Angela, How is Vision Voice? All along I never knew that what we used to listen to were not real radios! But I think I’ll opt for that Sunday Gospel Show (oh my God, I’ll be at church!). Okay, I’ll go for Saturdays’ Sports in case there is no live game on GTV. I would have kept my ears to the main chance of Lonely Hearts every day, but……crisis!

“How are you? Thanks for your prayers and support. My writing thing is beginning to see green lights. I thank God that I got a better approach to collecting the information I want. However, the imminent overwhelming demand might break my back. So I am planning to leverage the idea so that Christians can do it themselves and I do the editing. Nice time dear. Michael”

Angela again took weeks without replying my mail. My head is always very fast to condemn such people. Probably she had stolen my writing idea and was planning to do her own thing. But that did not bother me more than the feeling of staying away from Cell for decades. She seemed to be without any concern, care or sacrifice. And if her work at New Vision had taken God’s place, then how could she love to stay in touch with fellow human beings? And since she managed to call me and talk for long, I had the impression that after all she’s using the taxi payer’s money to call me! I was really disappointed, but I still sat down and planned to send another mail to both her addresses saying;

“Dear Angela, I hope all is well with you. Christmas is knocking at the door, but I am still skeptical on where to spend this holiday from. I can’t go for swimming because my leg is still recovering from the trauma. By the way, I threw away the sticks in Jesus’ name. Pastor Mark had encouraged us to believe ‘hard’! So I finally believed ‘very hard’ and kicked away Butcher man’s belongings! I am now remaining with only running. It is so unfortunate that the MTN marathon slipped through my fingers.

“Joking aside, are you bringing Peter for the Super Cell Sunday? Or you’re going to celebrate this holiday with him at the Nile? Anyway, I hear that journalists have no holidays because your job leads you by the nose. Sorry! I shall not say goodbye or wish you nice holidays because I want us to keep communicating. Did the other guy who hurt you repent? Nice time. Michael”

This time again, Angela never replied my message. I suppose her workload at her job was breaking her back. I also remembered how she always complained that they were working their fingers to the bone in interviewing and recruiting workers for their newly established Radio Station called Vision Voice. I didn’t like the initiative that this girl was involved in such a high profile venture.

On top of that I wondered why the New Vision daily had decided to copy Monitor Publications to establish a similar radio station as K Fm. K Fm had made a tremendous leap into the radio industry after dethroning Capital FM as the most listened to radio station in Kampala City. Probably New Vision had foreseen this as a profitable venture to stand up for the challenge since Vision and Capital radio I suspect were great allies. However K Fm maintained its number one position even after the launch of Vision Voice. So I remained wondering whether Angela wasn’t barking up the wrong tree! Probably Vision Voice was destined to a dead end since the Radio industry had become tightly competitive. Only time could tell.

I decided again to write back to Angela a text message requesting her to support our Cell to purchase Christmas gifts for the orphaned Watoto kids of Kampala Pentecostal Church. Our Cell had been allocated to boys Muliro Frank and Mulondo Andrew to bless on Christmas with gifts. So as a Cell Leader in turn I was responsible to keep members abreast of whatever was being planned to touch the hearts of these children.

In our Cell meetings we had proposed to buy two nice suitcases for the two boys which could cost us some money. So I chose to communicate to all members especially those who rarely attended our meetings. Only our Cell Leader Susan managed to contribute the money in advance before the threat of failing to beat the deadline which the church had set for us. I had also risked and used her money in developing my ministry’s communication level, yet all members proved not to be willing to contribute any money for the gifts of the Watoto children.

When I realized that we were approaching the deadline with nothing substantial having been done, I started feeling butterflies in the stomach. So I sent reminders to all members again. Our Cell Host Julian contributed and three young men too. So the deal was almost done, but the money wasn’t yet enough. Fortunately when Angela received my reminder she replied saying: “I saw the e-mail and then forgot! I’ll call you from office tomorrow and we talk. Sleep well.”

I expected Angela to give us a great boost for this cause. So I was rest assured that the Watoto children have got their gifts bought. But when Angela called me the following day, she assured me that she wasn’t in a good position to see me soon. It would therefore be very hard for me to get the money from her. So she requested me to top up the money for her, she would pay me later or simply send me airtime. I just accepted since I was talking to a woman moreover over the phone.

I had no money at the time, which meant I had to go through the eye of the needle. I even thought of buying cheaper suitcases that cost the amount of money at hand, and then call Angela under the pretext that I had paid for her part as well.

However, when my Uncle came back from doing humanitarian work in the war tone zones of Northern Uganda, he gave me a good chunk of money which enabled me top up everything for the Watoto gifts. In fact I went and bought all that was required and submitted the gifts to Watoto Offices at KPC Central on the very day of the deadline. I waited to receive Angela’s communication concerning the promise in vain. But the day I met Angela again, she told me her life story which I do not wish anyone to miss hearing or reading about: