For a long time, travelling within East Africa required an unusual type of preparation that had nothing to do with flights, hotel bookings, matooke withdrawal, etc. It required what I will call a small personal strategy about nationality. Yes!
In Kenya and Tanzania, between airport taxis, conference rooms, hotel receptions, and workshop tea breaks, someone would greet me confidently in Swahili, I would also respond confidently, usually with what little Swahili I know. And yes, I know enough Swahili to greet.
The moment the conversation moved beyond greeting, I would fail completely. Then I would smile, pause, and admit, actually, I do not speak Swahili.
Ha! That is when the flood of questions would begin.
But where are you from?
Uganda, I would say.
And immediately the discussion would open.
How can you be from Uganda and not speak Swahili? Why is Uganda in East Africa like that? Even Rwanda is trying. DRC manages somehow. Huh? You Ugandans do not like Swahili. So what exactly happened?
It became exhausting not because the questions were hostile, but because they were always long, curious, and required explanations on history, colonialism, politics, a military explanation, and sometimes a personal apology, as though I had personally chaired the meeting where Uganda decided not to speak Swahili.
So for my sanity, I created a small lie. I started saying I was from Malawi.
Finally, nobody took it personally that I could not speak Swahili. Instead, they nodded respectfully and moved on, which was ideal except that lying about nationality quickly became a part-time academic assignment. People are naturally curious and when they hear Malawi they do not leave you in peace either because they want to learn more about this country.
They ask who the president is, about agriculture, population size, districts, economy, staple food, the national football team and suddenly you realise that if you are going to impersonate a country, you must do it professionally. I found myself learning facts I had never intended to know. I think at one point I probably knew more official things about Malawi than some people who live there.
All this simply because I did not want another discussion about why Uganda does not speak Swahili.
But something changed. These days, I say Uganda with confidence. In fact, with a small amount of pride, because now Uganda has become an excellent conversation starter.
The moment I say Uganda, the face changes.
Ah! Yoweri Museveni.
Suddenly, I become important. The questions come fast and people are almost in awe.
The man with the hat. M7. Is he standing again? How old will he be at the next election? Why do Ugandans keep voting for him? Does he really eat cassava? Does he actually call everyone bazukulu? Are you one of the grandchildren? Is his left hand fine? Is he truly still that funny in real life?
Then naturally the conversation expands to Kizza Besigye, to Bobi Wine, to elections, to rumours, to jokes, to things people have watched online that I did not know had travelled that far.
I am no longer explaining language policy, instead, I am hosting a national Q&A session.
Uganda has become a conversation starter.
Even clothing has become political theatre. Yesterday, I wore yellow and my colleagues teased me saying I look like I am dressed for cabinet and I only wear yellow when outside Uganda. Others took a photo saying they have evidence to use against me. Of course all of it becomes easy laughter, because everyone knows the reference.
It is fascinating how President Museveni has made an entire nationality a table topic.
I used to borrow Malawi to avoid long conversations. Now I proudly return to Uganda because Uganda guarantees conversation, laughter, curiosity, and usually at least ten questions.
In some strange way, President Museveni has made me internationally interesting and gives me a soft landing because being Ugandan now opens doors, opens jokes, opens debates and on occasion, opens an entire afternoon of strangers asking me questions, many of which I do not know how to answer. I become a person of interest.
From where my feet are, that is a kind of soft power. President Museveni has done something remarkable for my social life. He has made strangers curious before I have said very much.
Interesting! Today when I took Ryan to see the DR who is of Indian descent and with a strong British accent, he asked if we were Kenyan. I politely said no, we are from Uganda. Fast fwd we were having this exact conversation ….”how come you don’t speak Swahili…..”. As it turned out, his mother was from Kenya and his dad was born in Jinja so they spoke Swahili at home.
ReplyDeleteTuts
DeleteMalawi? You should have picked a country that everyone has heard of, but don't really know much about and are embarrassed to admit as much - like Ghana. Malawi sparks curiosity and results in the kind of multisectoral roundtable panels you found yourself on.
ReplyDeleteI've been mistaken for being Kenyan more times than I can remember (by Kenyans too!), and I've gotten a few perks when in Nairobi because of that, including not having to explain the old man with a hat on a loop.
These days I find myself among people whose Uganda view is shaped by Google and Amin and my current defence is a well-oiled three pronged counterattack:
1. Your Google algorithm is messed up. Try googling Murchison Falls national park.
2. The Mountain Gorillas are actually ours. Those other guys just market them better
3. Emirates flies daily to Entebbe, right on the shores of that big blue dot you see on Google maps.
I use that because I discovered long ago that explaining our politics is futile, and talking about guns and knives in other countries is a cheap shot.
📝 We shall know them by their deeds [and dress code].
ReplyDeleteOur diplomatic ambassador in yellow and fully dressed for cabinet.
ReplyDeleteSwap the wordloap for yellow.
Uganda will continue to give that unmistakable patriotic energetic character wherever you go.