By Benoni Mugarura-Mutana

It usually takes Joy and me between 30 and 45 minutes to travel from Lweza, where our son Peter and his wife Fiona live, to the Joy Center in Wakiso.  But the evening of 10^th September 2009 was different.  What started off as a quiet day of reflection on the goodness of God ended in madness!

Riots in Kampala (Photo credit: The EastAfrican)

Joy and I spent more than four hours driving through back roads in the middle of swamps and valleys and over strange hills to find our way out of the riots that engulfed Kampala city.  We and hundreds of other Ugandan were trapped in the confusion that broke out when the Uganda Police Force and the Central Government prevented the Kabaka of Buganda from visiting a district to the east of Kampala.

The Buganda Kingdom is a large traditional kingdom whose history dates back to the Bronze Age in the African Great Lakes Region. At one point it was the biggest and most powerful kingdom in the Interlacustrine Region, with an army and a civil service to rival any small European country today.

When the British colonialists came to the area now known as Uganda, they co-opted Buganda to carryout their policy of indirect rule.  Instead of directly administering the countryside, educated Baganda were sent to impose the wishes of the colonial masters.  This relationship created conditions that Uganda has had to grapple with over the years.

With the capital city, Kampala, located in an area considered under Buganda control, questions are who is in charge in the center; the Kabaka (king) of Buganda or the Central Government?

Conflicts over this unresolved issue led to the political crisis of 1966 between the Buganda and Uganda governments.  It ended in the seizing of the Kabaka’s palace in Mengo, by then Prime Minister Apollo Milton Obote, Uganda’s first coup, the abrogation of the constitution of the country and the banning of kingdoms.

When Yoweri Museveni came to power in 1986, he restored the kingdoms. However a clause in the new constitution clearly states that any traditional leader, including the Kabaka, cannot have political power. They are merely cultural leaders.

This constitutional provision provided ground for yet another conflict.

Among the Baganda, the Kabaka is the end-all.  He is called Magulu Nyondo – the one whose feet crush his enemies like a hammer.  He is Nantawetwa – he bows before none and worships no other.  He is Musota, the serpent and bbaffe, the husband of all husbands in Buganda. At his coronation, the Kabaka is divested with power of chief priest. He is the High Priest of his People.

The expected effect of this is a clash of culture and democracy.  For many Baganda, President Yoweri Museveni and his government have no right to prevent the Kabaka from doing as he wishes in his kingdom, no matter whether it is perceived to be political or not. It was therefore an insult that he was refused entry into Kayunga district, a territory he claims as his own.

On September 10^th, hundreds of Buganda royalists took to the streets to protest the travel ban on the Kabaka.  The protests quickly escalated into riots when numerous unemployed youth joined them, using the opportunity to loot shops and homes and to extort people.

Police intervenes (Photo credit: AFP)

Running battles with anti-riot police ensued.  The rioters threw rocks at the police, burned a police station and burned tyres in the middle of streets.  They set up roadblocks, extorting money from motorists and harassed people not from the Buganda tribe.  The police responded by firing teargas canisters at them and shooting in the air.  About 20 people were killed in the rioting and more than 100 were seriously injured.

This was the situation Joy and I found ourselves in.

As we drove home from Lweza, we met a relatively small group of youth some on the bodaboda (motor cycle taxis) heading to palace of the Kabaka.  I quickly turned around, managing to escape the crowd.  We decided that going through the city center may not be such a good idea and headed for the back roads.

We should have stayed on the highway.

The first junction we approached was locked by the fire from burning tyres. Taxi drivers were waving us to turn back. So we climbed up Bunamwaya Hill looking for another route.  It was at the top of the hill that we saw the extent of the rioting.  There was fire everywhere!

Every road junction was blocked by the fires. We could not re-enter the city.

A kind taxi driver led us to another route, in an attempt to help us get to Masaka road.  “Let us go this way please follow me,” he said, determined not to lose us.  We were grateful for such kindness in the midst of confusion.  The taxi driver kept peering through his rear view mirror to make sure we were okay.  Once he found a clear junction, he said goodbye and we parted ways.

On reaching Masaka Road, we found a very long line of pedestrians walking out of the city. With public transport halted by the riots, they had no choice but to walk many kilometers home. We met two ladies carrying their shoes in the hands. They had gone to work dressed in beautiful high heels, not anticipating what a problem the shoes would be to them at the end of the day.

Joy and I drove up to Busega, to the west of Kampala and decided to use a new road called the Northern Bypass.  The journey was going smoothly until a young man shouted at us and threw a burning jerrycan at the car.  The burning volley hit the car, but didn’t affect it and we drove on.

The greatest challenge of the journey was at Nansana, just 10 minutes from our home. There must have been over ten fires in Nansana alone. We were stopped at every fire and roadblock and were told to hand over money or we couldn’t proceed.

We carefully waded through to a stage called Yesu Amala (Jesus Satisfies) with the help of the police. At one of the roadblocks where a huge pile of rubber and wood burned high into the air, a young man looked at me said “Mzee pass here and you will find a road at that point. Follow it and you will come up on the road after the fires.”

Again, in the midst of chaos, hatred and greed, we were blessed by more kindness.

The euphoria of our escape was however short-lived. A young man, who unsuccessfully tried to extort money from us, threw a rock at our car and smashed the rear window. The sound of the glass breaking was like a loud gunshot. A man hidden in the shadows seemed surprised at this.  “Now why have you done that?” he asked the rock thrower.

Riots at Mini Price Bata (Photo credit: Daily Monitor)

Finally we got home after four hours of scare, waiting, surprises, praying and no glass in the rear window of the car.

We are not discouraged by the rioting. If anything, it has shown us that the need for a ministry like the Joy Centre is needed now more than ever.  We must have a new generation of people who hate lawlessness and corruption and stand for peace and justice. We must have a generation of people who fear the Lord.