WHERE DID WE LOSE OUR INNOCENCE ?

On February 12^th, 2020 somewhere during the middle of the day, news broke on social media about the passing of a great man, a hero of Uganda. General Benon Biraaro had finally passed on to glory! I cannot explain the level of sadness I felt at his passing as it was profound. I last met the General in person a couple of weeks after the last Ugandan presidential elections. He was taking his early morning walk at the Speke Resort Munyonyo. I remember as he passed by where I was standing, I initiated greetings and a few pleasantries passed between us. He thereafter continued with his morning walk. Already by then rumors had it that he was battling cancer. General Biraaro was an excellent product of the National Resistance Army (NRA) and what it represented.

Many stories have been told of the valiant actions of the NRA bush war heroes. In history it is one of the shortest guerrilla wars ever fought from the beginning to its end, and that so rather successfully. One of the hallmarks of the NRA was the uncompromising discipline of its foot soldiers and all in rank and file of this outfit.

Growing up in Uganda, I watched as the Obote II government special forces wrecked violence and intimidation on the population. I speak of the special forces because I observed daily at their permanent station near my home how young men were mistreated. It was common sight for these young men to be brutally beaten, and that so at any hour you passed by the station, which incidentally was right by the roadside. You got a feeling they did it for sport and the fun if it. I remember feeling lucky that at the time that I looked like, and was, an innocent, young lad that they only saw passing by multiple times a day; they did not bother to stop me nor ask me for anything. This is where I learned to walk with my Identity card! Yes, I said Identity card; never mind that I was still in my single digit years. To date the habit stuck with me. I carry all my key identification documents on my body wherever I am, a weird habit some may say.

The men in green were not any better. In fact, my recollection of soldiers in combat fatigues were during the "Panda Gari" days; you woke up at 5 a.m on any given day to chaos; the residential area would have been cordoned off by soldiers and no male above a certain age could leave; it was almost a crime in those days to be youthful and male. The young men and the stronger older men were usually all herded off often to the nearest sports field where they were made to squat in the sun, and made to do all sorts of demeaning exercises as they awaited a further filter. Usually those unfortunate enough to make the filter never made it back. They literally "disappeared" (we heard in those days that forests like Namanve “dissolved” their often-decapitated bodies). 

This "disappearing" thing one day became reality to me. There was this young single mother that had two boys in my class; She seemed to be doing well. I think she was some sort of businesswoman. She drove the latest Fiat Mirafiori at the time, cream in colour. I recall Andrew and Alex coming to school one Monday morning, telling a horror story of how their mother had been rounded up at home by armed men on the Sunday afternoon, bundled off onto a waiting truck and then taken to an unknown destination. Later that week they seem to have found out where she was being kept and only so as managed a glimpse of a hooded her as she was being herded across the compound to a new location; that was the last they ever saw of their mother: what an image to keep of someone that you loved, and that loved you too! I hurt for them; yes, even as a child it still hurt so badly. I kept wondering what had happened to my friends' mum. Sadly, that story's end hasn’t been told to date.

So, you can imagine the anxiety among us when a new rag tag army, wearing bare threads on their back showed up. We had just been through one military coup the year before where the "Anyanya" militia were brought in; the country jumped from frying pan to the fire. Walking on the streets of Kampala then, if one met a soldier you made a beeline for the nearest cover you could find until the guy had safely passed by. Now in-spite of their misfit aura and despite the way they looked, instead there was a huge discipline that the NRA guerrillas carried along with them. These guys treated the citizens with much respect and exercised much restraint in their transactions. There was this one day when I witnessed a young soldier (he looked to be around 17 years of age) arresting a suspect that  he had apparently witnessed killing off his entire family. The Boy soldier was clearly angry and if it were up to him, he would have "finished off" (read "dissolved") this guy on the spot. But that method belonged to the old guards, not to the new dispensation. He had to effect the arrest and carry this elderly criminal to the nearest detention center to begin his journey to justice, and that he did. 

I remember when the guns fell silent in Kampala on 26th January 1986, they really did fall silent. At first it felt weird going through a night without a single gun shot being fired; months down the road we got used to the new normal. Today, there is many kids that have never heard a gunshot being fired. My first time to carry an automatic weapon was in 1986 when I was 13; this belonged to one of those rag-tag army soldiers. I cannot forget that feeling.

So how did the NRA manage to achieve this paradigm shift on discipline of armed forces? History was not playing in their favor at all. In fact for over 15 years before 1986, the narrative of violence dispensed by the Armed forces had been written and its script was clear and being followed to the letter. How did the NRA manage to change that narrative wherever they went? Stories have been told of the bush war, stories of how that same script attempted to make its way into the NRA, and how it faced the brutal reality that the status quo was not accepted there. Listening to these young soldiers I heard stories of how undisciplined NRA combatants had been handled; the firing squad! 

So, what in NRA amounted to indiscipline? How could an army of angry, hungry and ill-dressed young men and women garner so much discipline and order to follow instructions without wavering to the left or to the right? We are told that you did not steal anything as a member of the NRA; you asked politely for it, and if given, you took it back to the bigger team and shared it together. If you asked and you were not given, you graciously accepted the negative response and moved on. You did not steal even when your life depended on it nor did you revenge. You never raided locals’ gardens to uproot tubers or food to eat it. You did not take what never belonged to you. You did not terrorize the locals. All offences to this rule were met by swift judgment by a counsel and then often ended with the offender facing the firing squad. Even non-consensual sex was punishable by death. So, this army learned to govern their appetites and slowly by slowly a brutally disciplined force was born. 

More than anything else, it is this discipline of the NRA that brought people close to them. People gave their lives literally for them, rather than give them away. To date, when General Yoweri Kaguta Museveni visits those villages, he is treated with much respect by the still surviving locals from those days. They love him to the core and would possibly still die for him. 

Lately, I see a lot of self entitled members of the armed forces. I wonder what happened to the NRA discipline! It is a rather worrying trend when one sees the "Wanainci" being treated as second rate citizens by the ones who should be fighting for their rights. It is a scary situation.

About 5 years ago I was involved in a rather unfortunate incident where a very senior member of the armed forces, notorious for his indiscipline and bully tendencies, unilaterally ordered for a tractor to graze over one meter into our family property. This boundary run for about 50 meters in a rather expensive part of town (count the impact on cost); never mind that his directly adjacent property was saved and untouched as he had fenced it off all the way into the existing demarcated access road. I was swiftly constrained by the villagers not to even attempt reaching out to him otherwise I will be met with a barrage of physical abuse from both him and his guards (he had recently clobbered a boda boda guy that had approached him over unruly driving). I eventually advised my self out of the action simply because he had widened the road which we all were using anyway.

On another day recently last year 2019, men in uniform walked onto a private property and wrecked havoc in broad day light. The issue had to do with a land matter that was before competent decision makers for review and realignment. Apparently (not validated) they had instructions to walk onto this property and terrorize whosoever they found; never mind that the property was an established place of residence and work. They beat, they threatened more violence, they kidnapped (for lack of a better word, given that no warrant of arrest had been issued), they destroyed property. Effect of this trespass was that life for these people took a downturn as they could not manage a meaningful existence in such a work environment. 

It is not uncommon lately to see some gun wielding guy bully a citizen out of their way with impunity. And by the way its no longer the senior guys; the juniors and privates have learned very well from their senior colleagues that have led by example. This is when you know that the "cancer" is at Stage 4. This, in the day of the NRA, was totally unthinkable. The culprits would have received swift and decisive justice which would as well be meted out to them in the very community they violated. These individuals however still walk around freely, looking for another weak "mwanainchi" to devour. One wonders what people now think about men in Uniform. What an abuse of this uniform painted in the valor of those who went before them in the NRA; what an abuse meted out on the sacrifice of the gallant men and women that have gone before them in this very uniform.

In recent time, there has been some gruesome stories of the actions of errant men and women of uniform. Some of the stories are so hard to believe, and yet these are true. There is not enough space for me to repeat these stories here, but the results of such abuse of uniform have been told over and over globally, and they are always the same. Nicolae Ceausescu is a great example to follow for anyone given the responsibility of the uniform; pay very close attention to the lessons from that Romanian Revolution. The uniform requires that one frequently retreats and reviews the actions and responsibility that comes with that uniform, and ensure to recommit to those responsibilities with a new vigor.

I remember stories being told (truth not validated) of the late Paulo Muwanga, possibly the most powerful Vice President Uganda has ever seen. He was such a power center and his directives never went unheeded. Deep in one Masaka village where he hailed from, apparently the villagers were staunch DP party supporters (the most powerful opposition part of the time); he on the other hand was a UPC stalwart. He could not hear of anything else other than just what had UPC emblazoned on it. However, in the case of his village, he made a wild exception. Apparently, he never took it lying down if indiscipline happened in his village or to his villagers (he was Minister of Defence). In addition, he ensured that that he often gifted the villagers with things that were in the green and white colors, the official colors of DP. He understood his people, he loved his people, and he knew no matter how high and mighty he was, these were his people; and they loved him so! Not one evil word has ever issued from that village about the late Paulo Muwanga, inspire of the many cries from else where. The key lesson to learn is that East or West, home is best; so, before long one will soon find them selves back home, and how lonely that home will be if all you have done is agitate the people around you.

There is a way in which evil practices easily and quickly get perpetrated into society. It is almost as if they are simply waiting for someone to just give them a tag and they will run themselves into whatever they can. Good, on the other hand, takes time; it takes time to build anything good but just a moment to ruin it. A lot was invested into Uganda's security, and the price paid for it was blood, the blood of both citizenry and of our gallant men and women in Uniform. What I see in cases like those above is a bunch of bad mannered "boys and girls" that have totally lost their way, and now impose themselves onto the very people they should so carefully be protecting from these very evils. This habit quickly catches on and the cost to take it back is staggeringly high.

My word of advice to the leaders and commandants of the men and women in Uniform, lets protect the honor of that Uniform. Let us protect the legacy of the gallant men and women of these armed forces that have laid down their lives in the process of fighting to protect the liberties of their fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, friends and countrymen. Let us remember these sacrifices and let us cut off that cancer before it takes the entire body down with it.