So, this photo of the deputy Attorney General of Uganda carrying an AK47 in the vicinity of his cows … Reminds me of an incident a few weeks ago. I was at a fuel station car wash bay to have my car washed.
Sitting there people and car watching, I was very idly checking out the washed Nissan SUV parked next to my car when a newer model of the very same car drove into the station forecourt, towards the car I’d just been looking at. Both vehicles, by the way, bore tinted glass.
A policeman in the black uniform of the counter terrorism unit (or is it the VIP protection unit?) hopped out of the front passenger seat of the second Nissan, toting a shiny new AK47. And carrying on his person a bit of military hardware; extra gun magazines, a retractable baton, what looked like mace, etc. He adjusted the gun’s strap over his shoulder then reached into the car and retrieved a black pistol, which he then awkwardly stuffed into his waistband. Meanwhile, out of the back passenger seat alighted a chap in shirtsleeves, wearing open leather sandals and carrying his suit jacket and shiny, polished shoes in his hands.
I immediately recognised him as one of my neighbours and a recent entrant to the Cabinet of Uganda. Let me state my bias against this dude, even though he is a distant relative by marriage. He irked me when, at Mzee’s funeral a few months ago, he made a thoroughly political speech – the sort that Mzee detested – and capped it all by saying that because of M7, people like him who went to Iganga S.S. could now speak at gatherings of old boys of Busoga College Mwiri. Mzee, my bako and myself attended Mwiri. As did many of Mzee’s distinguished friends.
This was the first time I was seeing him since the funeral and it brought back a bit of the irritation I felt then.
Anyway, the driver then reversed the second Nissan into the washing bay next to the first one, hopped out, ran round to the first one and drove it out onto the forecourt. The policeman opened the back door, the minister from Iganga S.S. climbed in, the door was closed and the policeman climbed into his own seat with all his paraphernalia.
A short pause … then the driver hopped out, run back around to the Nissan they’d arrived in, reached into the back seat and re-emerged holding a grey pistol which he handed to the policeman, before resuming his seat and driving off.
The chap I was sharing a bench with (the kind we called a ‘form’ back in the day) and I looked at each other, then at the retreating SUV and quietly resumed our business. My neighbour went back to sipping from his mug of porridge and I quietly wondered to myself why a junior minister from a minor ministry needed 3 firearms in his vehicle. Presumably the grey pistol was for his person, seeing as it was retrieved from the back seat. And I’m not counting the armed policeman at his home.
I think these days, when you get appointed to the Cabinet, after reciting the oath of office and posing for the group photograph with No. 1, you are led to a side room where you are given the mandatory lobotomy, a yellow necktie/shirt/dress, keys to a shiny new SUV and, your choice of firearm(s).
We should all be so lucky.
Building The Nation 