Edna Ninsiima

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Opinion

Open Letter To Honorable Muhammad Nsereko

October 3, 2016

Dear Sir,

I have, with a renewed strength and hope in humanity, read your story of how you came to the rescue of Esther Nassazi and her 4 children who had been detained at the Central Police Station for camping at Kampala Capital City Authority (KCCA) on Monday over her vandalized stall. I think that the 4 million shillings cash donation that you gave her will turn her life around- or at least help her start a new and for that, I applaud your selflessness and empathy and also thank the Daily Monitor for being just in time to catch this exemplary piece of news. Further more, I agree with what you said that no parent should have to stay out with her children in the rain looking for what to do. In fact, if you delve deeper, look more- I think you might have a few more people to rescue as there are definitely more Esther Nassazis in Kampala.

When I first saw her story myself, I tried to understand why it had come to her stall being destroyed and her merchandise being confiscated during an operation by KCCA enforcement. Had she been given a warning? Had there been rules read out to her whose breaking would lead to this punishment? I wondered. Even then, because I think the law is the law and the officers could have been only doing their job, I racked my brains for one reason why an unarmed woman’s peaceful protest and request to speak to the KCCA Director would get her arrested, together with her children. As you might imagine, I found none.

Sadly even after this seemingly problem-solving act of generosity, I and other citizens of Uganda who might have been wondering with me shall not find these answers. The city authorities shall not be tasked to explain vandalization of Esther’s property and neither will the police for arresting a peaceful protester together with her children. Further more, the KCCA Director will not grant this woman audience or say whether she at least saw story of city dweller who sought her audience and as a leader of city council at least considered tasking the police to explain why they’d arrest individual who publicly, yet peacefully sought her audience.

Mr. Nsereko, I’m afraid you in your capacity as Member of Parliament Kampala Central where Esther conducts business, have not represented her and other traders with same plight. Nassazi has not answers to her grievances but a temporary solution. Her reasons for the quite courageous protest have not been heard or addressed. If she had been rightfully punished, she will never know and when she, with this 4 million starts afresh, Esther might put her business in another area which city authorities might again find unsuitable. I hope that today while you take that seat in the August House, you find time to reflect on this.

Yours sincerely,

Edna Ninsiima

Feminism

Kenyana

September 23, 2016

Edna Ninsiima

9 Comments

Kenyana was a tough, vibrant young girl…or what people like to call “tomboy.” She wore shorts and Polo t-shirts in place of dresses, at least most of the time. She hated Sunday church preparations because her mother always woke her up earliest and handed her a well pressed matching dress, it was a routine. A ridiculous one to her, why must we wake up so early? She clearly would turn out to be far from the morning person. Also, can’t I just wear my comfortable shorts to church? She always wondered. Mum had always said that at church, this is what she had to wear- dresses…

Kenyana in her teenage years while young girls obsessed about high heels, “kakondo,” found really drawn to Avril A
Lavigne outfits instead. For every Mariah Carey song, she went for a punk rock substitute. The first time she put up a huge Avril newspaper cut out poster in her room, her father had looked at it questioningly asked: Is that what you really want? She had nodded so fast. Dad had mumbled an okay followed by a little shrug and walked on. This, amongst other many conversations with dad was to go a long way in shaping Kenyana’s perception of the world and her insistence in who she was despite the ideas society had for her.

In primary school when the senior woman had insisted that girls must “pull,” or they’ll regret it, Kenyana had immediately called her mother to make it clear that her daughter would be doing no such thing. When Mr. Sekajja, teacher of English had angrily barked; if you can’t kneel, go back and sit! after she’d asked to go and empty her full bladder, Kenyana had dared to walk back to her seat. Pressed to near spilling, she’d sat through another 30 minutes that Mr. Sekajja had obviously purposely extended this lesson into to punish her; all this time wondering why it was important that she knelt while asking a teacher to go to the bathroom. Why am I always antagonizing authority? I wonder whether it’s my fault…but I try to be good, I’m disciplined. Does that mean I should go along with everything without asking questions? Why are others okay with it all, were they given memos that I didn’t get? She’d had a constant mind battle with these thoughts. Many had called it pride,which dad always said was okay. The senior woman had said that Kenyana thought she was special, yet she wasn’t and that she would remember in future that the senior woman was just trying to help her.

Then came girls’ high school…whereas she’d had the chance to be part of several cliques, she’d not exactly fit in. Sometimes she’d opted out after some normal teenage friendship fights, other times, she’d just stayed a friend to just one or two girls because the clique was a bit much. From expectations that seemed like rules, to a desire for different individuals to act so uniformly as part of the friendship, she found all of it exhausting. As a result, Kenyana found herself longing for holidays so that she could hang out with the friends from a boys’ school’ other boys at the public library where she went during holidays and some boys from the housing estates near home.

It was easier, she couldn’t deny it. The boys didn’t talk so much about girls, like the girls did about them…it was probably only because she was there; still she enjoyed fresh conversations about movies and games. On many occasions, they’d offered to walk her home so she’d ditched the taxi. She had really enjoyed it. One, because she was saving the transport money mum had given her. Two, because her growing explorer spirit naturally preferred an hour of chatting with friends while discovering the many routes that could lead you home, to a 10 minutes journey in a 14-seater commuter.

So when Kenyana had first accessed Facebook and found many picture quotes with words: I’d rather hang with boys, girls have a lot of drama! she’d quickly related and thought: wow, so this is why I don’t have many girlfriends. It’s their drama that I can’t take. Boys really do make better friends after all.

*********

Kenyana is such a big girl now. Same strong spirited, adventurous spirit with a mind of her own. Same, although a bit faded, “tomboy” traits and guess what; she has girl friends. Yes, a group of them. One might even call it a clique. A functional clique. A clique with whom they don’t spend time talking about boys but books instead. A clique that is the exact opposite of the word “drama” and all its negative connotations. A clique of mature, young women genuinely supporting each other and rooting for the growth of each one of them. Kenyana has, with a happy heart and a sigh of major relief, come to know that the comments she often heard before about the supposed “nature” of women not wishing well for one another, we’re just empty and baseless. She has now embarked on a socially difficult choice to free many women of the mental bondage that pits them against each other in some constant petty competition.

For example; she knows now that whereas they always said that a woman is a temptress who might tempt and “steal” other people’s men, that this is not true. That one adult human being makes an adult choice to break a commitment; and that it is nobody’s fault but their own. Kenyana knows now that girls don’t “naturally have a lot of drama.” That if they focused on supporting and uplifting each other, if they advanced their intellectual abilities before they did their bodies or prized appearances, oh the things they could do, the mountains they could move! Kenyana has learnt and experienced first hand the incomparable value of a sisterhood. The power women possess when they stand together, how unstoppable they can be – together with and not against each other.

Don’t Teach Me How To Keep A Man

September 5, 2016

Edna Ninsiima

16 Comments

Don’t teach me how to keep a man
You encourage a certain infamous label against him
I on the other hand don’t
So I will only take lessons on how to keep my dog.

Don’t teach me how to keep a man
Because should I meet a man who I want to stay
My love and trust alone I expect to be enough
For him to treasure enough to stay.

Don’t teach me how to keep a man
Because I have no intention of holding him hostage
Should a grown man want to leave
I shall readily let him go anyway.

Don’t teach me how to keep a man
Because it is the least of my priorities right now
Teach me instead how to defend myself
Against the daily cat-calling on the streets
Or the sexually innuendos constantly thrown at me.

Don’t teach me how to keep a man
Please teach me the importance of knowing my value
Warn me against staying in an abusive relationship
Or blaming myself for it.

Don’t teach me how to keep a man
Teach us both to love unconditionally
Tell us BOTH to put in a lot of work
In OUR relationship.

No. Don’t teach me how to keep a man
Teach me how to keep my dream alive
Allow me to learn to keep me first
Maybe then I will keep another better.

Experiences

Baby In My Bed

August 30, 2016

Edna Ninsiima

2 Comments

Night has fallen, my insomnia is on steroids and I’ve been confined to my room due to unavoidable responsibility. What to do, what to do? Oh yes! That book I haven’t finished yet. I reach for the top of my stack of books on the dresser and prepare to jump out of bed to turn on the light. (Every month I say I’m going to buy a bedside reading lamp but hey, you know how it is – “times are hard.”) Anyway; as soon as my socked feet hit the harsh cold of the tiles, I remember, there’s a baby in my bed.

His tiny and thin eyelids won’t tolerate this fluorescence from the bulb and it’s just 10:34 pm. If I’m going to manage putting him back to sleep every time he wakes up I’d better save up some energy for later. So I humbly swing my feet back into bed and fall back on my pillow. *phone ringing* Now my life is so simpulified, my desire I ask and he replies.. *baby turns* damn Pompi! I love the sound of your voice any day or night but not this one. Also, why is somebody calling unexpectedly after 10 pm – on a night when there’s a baby in my bed?!

Thank God for Samsung’s feature that allows one to decline call with a message. *taps icon* -and of all options I accidentally tap, “I’m in a meeting…” message. Damn! So person will definitely think I didn’t want to speak to them and didn’t have the balls to just say that. I could almost hear them talking to self on the other end: “I’m in a meeting, really?! Where did you move to, New York?” I shall explain in the morning…or not because I bet person in question will read this.

____________________________

I actually placed phone down and slept off a bit until it was time to feed. So now that “we’re” fed and back to sleep, I thought I’d add a paragraph here. While I type this, I realize how for granted we take phone apps. For example, WordPress for Android is the sole solver of my, as earlier mentioned insomniac self. Otherwise I’d be staring at a sleeping baby in my bed or the ceiling in the dark waiting for the next time when “we” have to feed and change.

Sadly my battery seems to be draining by the minute at a moment when I’m trying to observe all the rules of safety in life for not so much myself, but for the baby in my bed – not using a smart phone while its battery is low being one of those rules. So long folks. Let me switch to full night time babysitter of my adorable nephew, who knows, I might acquire skills that I might need later in life.

Travelogue

Murchison Excursion: The Falls & River Nile

August 16, 2016

Edna Ninsiima

6 Comments

When you stand on the top deck of a boat afloat the River Nile near Paraa with a not-so-close and yet equally magnificent view of the Murchison Falls as they meet the Nile, it becomes increasingly hard to understand how one could not believe in a creator – as only the abilities of a creative with super powers could have put together something so wondrously beautiful.

Having been to a number of waterfalls in this country, you’d think that by now I’d react/feel relatively normally to seeing another. Not quite. Maybe it’s this fantasy I have about waterfalls or the way these particular cascades of water flow in a staircase; but the Murchison Falls are most decidedly something everyone must see in this lifetime. On the first day of most recent #KoiKoiUg trip, I saw, breathed in, meditated by, felt the spray of and came to this conclusion about these falls.

On day 2 after the game ride, we sat on the double-deck motor boat drinks in hand and ready to explore the Pakwach side of River Nile. In briefing, the guide said that we may wear the life jackets but was quick to add that this boat had carried tourists across the Nile for over 45 years and there was not one incident when things had gone wrong. Now, not to sound careless but who wants to wear some polyester-made clothing in uncomfortably high temperatures? Yeah, not me either. So many of us opted out of the option and allowed the sun to reflect it’s rays on our melanin as we took in the scenery around us, spoke loudly to outmatch the insistently loud boat engine over the muffled sound of the water waves.

Part of the group striking a pose on the top deck

Hippopotami peeped above the water, living by their semi-aquatic status and on the shores: we saw elephants, birds and a lucky sight a crocodile basking in the sun. A large wall-like rock in view, local name “Nyamusika” is a habitat for several species of birds as was explained by the guide. Further high up above is a penthouse like, non-contemporary and yet still visibly stylish brick structure, “Queen’s Cottage” where Queen Elizabeth stayed when she visited Murchison Falls National Park in 1959. Also to note: while she visited, the queen cruised upriver to view the Falls – same cruise that the people of #KoiKoiUg were now taking 57 years later.

IMG-20160815-WA0012 — “Nyamusika” rock as seen from the lower deck of the boat

Photography credits: @kreativadikt, @spartakussug and yours truly.

Travelogue

Murchison Excursion: The Game Drive

August 11, 2016

Edna Ninsiima

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“Oh…come on!” Twonjex’s voice rings in my head while I am half-asleep, enough to jolt me up and see what was going on. Everybody else’s eyes are turned towards the front and instinctively, mine follow. Behold, approaching the narrow road path from the long blades of grass still covered in the morning dew is an elephant. Silence. The bus is minutes ahead, we’re running late for the game drive and to top it all, we have a large, seemingly moody elephant a few feet from the Toyota Nadia SU in which we’re seated with no guide (or weapons) – same elusive guide whose fault it is that we’re late. Panic takes residence on our facial expressions – then as if on command, we grab our photo creators. Andrew, his Nikon D300 and Joanne & I, our phones, – the shots accompanied by an occasional “wow” begin.

Elephant stomps into the path…pause…then walks ahead – in the middle of the road. Damn, now we’re going to really be late. Maybe we shouldn’t have driven back to pick that guide. Too late. Remember: you absolutely cannot hoot at an elephant. Not only is it illegal, you also just might have a Jumanji situation on your hands.
After a few minutes that seemed like an hour, lone elephant moves slowly, almost deliberately stalling, to the other side of the path. Twonjex steps on the gas. We’re back on the road and I think to myself; I must tell this story.

The game drive through Uganda’s largest National Park, Murchison Falls, is approximately 90 km of a one lane murram road between the large expanse of game habitat land on either side. It is quiet enough for you to hear a sudden movement in the shrubs over the car engine. The air so fresh, makes you want to pack an airtight bag full of it back to Kampala. Antelopes to our surprise seem to be largest population of animals here. You’d think with the cat family constantly pursuing them for a meal they’d have reduced in number – that’s not the case we discover as there’s quite a number of them here.

Also in sight are water bucks, a few warthogs, baboons and an occasional sight of a monkey…but more significant than other animals as you go the further into the park, several giraffes wearing a cool orange and black ensemble. They strut around tall and proud with their long graceful necks making slow, deliberate front and back movement with every step. It’s a sight to see. Some, you’ll notice have their necks wrapped around the other’s. So what are are they doing? You might wonder. Well, wait for it…fighting. That’s right. Giraffes are so graceful that their expression of a physical fight is a ‘neck hug.’ If you had any doubts these animals are the royalty of the jungle, at this point they’re all erased.

There was a unanimous anxiety to see a big cat; glimpse of a lion or leopard, anything from the Felidae family. Unfortunately this hope was in vain as even well aware there were some lying around in that tall savannah grass, we didn’t set our eyes on even one. Then as if to compensate this came the largest jungle mammal again; this time as a family unit. First, from a distance was a calf on the road path; rolling on the ground like a disgruntled naughty child. This we later learned is the elephants’ way of repelling insects that might bite them out in the wilderness – the sandy soil keeps insects away. From one side emerged other 2 little siblings accompanied by who were obviously the parents. While the infants all rolled like gigantic pumpkins on the ground, the elders like bodyguards stood protectively over them.

All this as we parked at a short distance and marveled at the scene. When they’d all crossed and given way for us to proceed to end of designated game drive course, I knew then that I’d lived; because not every human being in their lifetime gets to see a group of giraffes, some of them necks entangled or a spectacular display of a loving family of elephants on a casual afternoon stroll so up close. Later while I got onto the boat for the ride on the Pakwach side of River Nile, I smiled to the realization that I’d checked an item off my bucket list which I didn’t even know was listed.

Boat Ride in Part 2.

Photography credits: @szion256, @kreativadikt, @joeljjemba and yours truly.

In My Head

A Curious Case…

August 4, 2016

Edna Ninsiima

2 Comments

A Curious Case
Of identity of a masked visitor
Who after an unusual Umeme technical glitch
Waited for night to fall
To walk past the guards into a prison
Where a one “trouble maker” was kept.

A Curious Case
Of the worrying state of immorality in the nation
That prompted an immediate purchase of a porn detector machine
Months after a cancer radiotherapy machine broke down
After careful evaluation of priorities.

A Curious Case
Of a slow moving vehicle
That accidentally diverted into the direction
Of a man walking on the streetside
Knocking him and slowly getting back in lane
Before driving off.

A Curious Case
Of the money-mining livestock
An answer to the vicious cycle of poverty
That’s been until recently
The best kept secret.

A Curious Case
Of a sudden urgency
To develop infrastructure
That requires land owners
To immediately relinquish their fixed asset for building the nation
And seek possible compensation later.

A Curious Case
Of the masked street goons
Into whose actions an inquiry was immediately launched
By their very own.

It is a never ending curious case in this promised land.

Opinion

Why Only Telling Our Good Story Might Not Help Us

July 26, 2016

Edna Ninsiima

2 Comments

With the recent discovery of the online community of the undeniable infrastructural progress that Rwanda has made has come unavoidable comparison with our own not-so-steady progress. Many like I have wondered how they’ve done it, while others argue that Rwanda too like Uganda still has a long way to go despite the strides that they’ve taken. Which is true. Although one might wonder why while they make a clear effort to cover this long way, are we seemingly taking the back seat and even some steps backwards?

This debate still goes on and might even never end. There’s one thing we all agree on though. Rwanda has invested a lot in telling their good stories. “They just really invest in PR,” many have said. As a way forward, it had been suggested and even recommended by some Rwandans as something they’ve admittedly done, that Uganda go an extra mile to tell her good stories. That we promote our own country. Report on every little success and even blow out of proportion the least achievements.

Whereas I of all people see the importance of this way forward and have myself done my small part in telling Uganda’s good story, I worry that if not supplemented with the realization that Uganda has a lot more work to do than talk about the already existing victories, we’re headed no where and that steady, or any progress for that matter might remain a myth.

While at the University I quickly realized that whereas you might register a really high GPA in one semester, you must work as hard or even harder in the subsequent semesters to score a certain CGPA with which you’ll be able to graduate with a recognizable degree class and that should you slack, that one semester’s good GPA might not help you at the end.

I think that we (Ugandans) must:
First recognize that we’ve slacked for so long and must make an effort if we’re to ‘graduate.’

Then quit with immediate effect, comparing our glaring weaknesses to other countries’ failures. While many other students might have a trailing CGPA or course units which they’ve not passed, a University student will be a fool to front as a reason why they failed to graduate, that some other people didn’t graduate either.

Finally, a University student knows that it is not only one semesters’ good grades that will determine whether they graduate but the continued progress in every semester. So as we strive to tell all our good stories, may we not dwell on those alone while sweeping under the rug the bad ones. May we instead acknowledge our errors, then work towards turning them into successes. Otherwise we risk becoming the same orators of the 1986 story that we’ve all had enough of.

For God and My Country 🙂

Social Action

Gerenge Landing Site

July 23, 2016

Edna Ninsiima

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Geoffrey “Kampala” Muwonge is a University graduate and one of – if not the most – successful young man at this landing site.
While his wife runs a shop and takes care of their only child in Nansana on the outskirts of Kampala where he has built a house, he spends time here working for their future in the fishing business.

While we speak, 4 young men who he later hands some money approach him. These are the fishermen he employs to spend days and some nights on the lake catching silver fish widely known in Uganda as “Mukene.”

He seems to be doing well, so I ask about the young men his age; his main worry, they’re spendthrifts. Really? I wonder looking around wondering what could be extravagantly spent on here. Yes, he affirms saying they spend most of their earnings kubakazi (loose Luganda reference to promiscuity)

At Gerenge Fish Landing Site on Lake Victoria, the major commercial activity is evidently, fishing. From the boats out on the lake, the nets on the shore and the silver fish hanging out to dry in the sun, the lake shore is bustling with fishing activity.

There’s however another popular activity which aids the exchange of money; prostitution.

A peer educator walks around community with a megaphone calling residents for the services

Residents of Gerenge queue up for HIV Testing after counselling

It is within their mission of enabling universal access to rights based sexual reproductive health information and services to vulnerable communities that Reproductive Health Uganda has reached out to sensitize and create awareness on safe sexual activity as well as meet their diverse reproductive health challenges in a 2 day outreach dubbed #SRHROnWaves.

Many have warmed up to the services and are visibly interested. There’s a queue at the HIV testing tent, almost everyone has received a box of male condoms or and an excited crowd can be seen at the point where illustrations on female panty condom use are. The door to door home visits to preach the family planning gospel are ongoing and again, many residents are receptive. Others on the other hand have reservations and misconceptions.

One woman, mother of 3, argues that child birth is easier than having a metal inserted into her vagina for cervical cancer screening and in a distance, I hear 2 young men tell a peer educator that condoms cause cancer. Nevertheless, at the end of the day the people are happy.Many walk around excitedly with a box of condoms tucked under their armpit folds. More women are being screened for cervical cancer and the registration lists at the HIV Testing tent have been exhausted.

Geoffrey asks, Naye mukomawo ddi? Translation: When will you people be back?

Travelogue

GULU: A Tale To Tell

July 14, 2016

Edna Ninsiima

6 Comments

I’ve recently discovered that a marathon/run is one way to almost fully explore a town. You can stop a few times for a water break and use the opportunity to snap a picture, read a sign post or just speak to the locals. It might be a more interesting experience if you’re doing it with other friends, one a town native because then, you don’t need a tour guide and you won’t be misguided. Should you need to ask about a landmark/building or just want an interpretation of what the locals are saying to you, you’ll pretty much be sorted.

BeingEdna — With “The Jedi” (Gulu homeboy) on Acholi Lane. Photo taken by Tricia Twasiima

Gulu town is located 332 km from Uganda’s capital Kampala; towards the North. The road-to as soon as you leave the city is everything you hope for on a road trip; a long tarmac stretch that will allow your vehicle to move smoothly, increasing your comfort on the road, only 2 cars or even just in either lane; ruling out unbearable traffic and of course for the readers, a chance to catch up on a few chapters of a book without potholes, endless humps or loud car honking distracting you. The road from Nakasongola is lined with a magnificent display of pine trees whose beauty matches their wealth potential. The setting is one where if I were a magazine fashion editor, take my models for the shoots.

The town, (to my surprise) has a colonial-town feel. The kind you get as you enter Fort Portal or Jinja. A comforting silence; a tranquility you can almost smell, a few old but functional buildings, air so fresh it blows your nasal cilia apart and goes right through to your lungs as if to refresh your respiratory system. Streets so decongested you might think it’s a Christmas evening and everybody is out of town or at their homes indulging in festivities. The cars honk almost politely and the motor bikes ( bodabodas) are not speeding towards a pedestrian in an almost vengeful way. Occasionally, you’ll see a chapati/rolex stand, a pork joint, a bar/guest house, a gas station a few huts and many merchandise shops. The items that seem to be on high demand are clothing, food stuffs and solar panels.

The people seem, contrary to the picture that has been widely painted, very happy. Smiles from shop attendants, a boda boda cyclist ready to give you directions, excited kids frantically waving and a pedestrian encouraging marathon participants to run on. For a place that has seen so much pain and turmoil, Gulu is quite a homely.

Almost a decade after the LRA insurgency, this town is undoubtedly peaceful, abuzz with business with one hell of a night life and a hub of several NGO’s, many fostering youth involvement in community development, Gulu, once, in CNN speak, a hotbed of terror, is one of the fastest growing towns in Uganda.

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Edna Ninsiima

Open Letter To Honorable Muhammad Nsereko

Kenyana

Don’t Teach Me How To Keep A Man

Baby In My Bed

Murchison Excursion: The Falls & River Nile

Murchison Excursion: The Game Drive

A Curious Case…

Why Only Telling Our Good Story Might Not Help Us

GULU: A Tale To Tell

We are all the things we despise uneducated people for – and then some

The Rwandan Architect Who Is Fostering a New Generation of African Designers

Transformational Entrepreneurship: The Role of Women and What Might Be Holding It Back #GEW2017