The deluded life of Kampala’s elite dandies

Kampala has a lot of them nowadays: like white people in black skin. And this is not a class struggle —for we are all rotting in the same boat: broke, battered and stressed.

Reminding us to take care and fight for each other, the ministry of Health said 14 million of us were mentally unwell. But the people I describe here seem not to care a bit.

They have mastered the art of indifference; an I-don’t-care attitude, which actually masks an egregious selfishness, and dangerous pretentiousness; an anxiety, and misplaced longing to live a “European life” they see on television amidst the dysfunction and pain around them.

Instead of joining the struggle for a collective uplift of everybody else, these folks seem to have lost all imagination as they are drowned in illusory accomplishment. It is a difficult delusion, if you ask me. Because it is not grounded on firm economic base, but makeshift flimsy connections (oftentimes, nepotistic networks).

I know they will call me envious, dear reader, but yes, I am. From where do these people get their shine; their mental calmness to live unbothered, and the self-deception that all is well and good? The flooding of Kampala after a small drizzle, or the many potholes all over the city, all seem to them like small inconveniences. In fact, they are actually bothered by those who speak out!

You have seen them, dear reader, pretending to be dandy and well-kempt. You have seen them taking “healthy walks” with their puppies – eh – or jogging through dusty streets and dangerously open drainage. They will show off their Apple watches and latest iPhones, making sure to record and advertise to complete strangers, their accomplished kilometres and running times.

You will then see them on social media channels posting pictures of themselves watering potted plants, even after a downpour. Whose children are these corrupted and indifferent individuals?

Blessed with good English — and access to broadcast channels both mainstream and online, you will endlessly hear them chanting hackneyed slogans about “democracy and human rights” which means, their Westernised lifestyles (not food and water, which is the demand for the rest of the wretched compatriots).

Like their Western cultural associates, they don’t like Russia, and love Western Europe — all for the sake of their associated friendships. But if you talk about our general poverty, they will read you bombastic figures and stats about GDP growth, and remind all of us about how lazy we are.

You have heard them humour themselves about how Uganda is the fastest-growing economy in the world, and Kampala the safest city in East Africa! (No, they are not directly NRM lackeys). To be fair, some of them actually have honest investments. But they cannot imagine how much more successful they would be under a different regime of business.

Their lonesome success has sadly made them selfish, and they cannot champion things of collective benefit: owning our commercial banks, owning our telecoms, resuscitating our cooperatives, a government-led public transport, environmental protection, etcetera.

YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN

There’s an envious, but actually chastening cry we have learned to make, which loosely translates: “in your places where you cry about your being broke, there are Ugandans in other places enjoying themselves.”

It is often said upon sighting the people I have described above. You could spot them driving a brand-new high-end automobile, oftentimes driving arrogantly and dangerously, or frequently dining in unordinary places. (These cars and dinner monies are often “successful deals.”

See, if their cool wheels were badly scratched by an equally, dangerous driving boda-rider, they cry like little children. Because they don’t know when the next deal is coming. Well, some don’t even care at all, because they have a bottomless pool of public cash). The not-so-kind, almost hilarious, message behind that envious-chastening cry, is that while you weep, remember to weep alone.

“Do not make it look like the entire country is weeping with you. Because as you can see clearly, others arrived, and are flaunting it in your face.” Also, “your tears are your fault. But if you stopped pitying yourself, and got your act together, you would be like those others,” we mirthlessly laugh at ourselves.

But there is another message — a cynical one— beautifully crafted in the cry, and this I find more instructive: that these aren’t honest businesspeople.

But beneficiaries of either (a) legally sanctioned theft, i.e., workers of bigger thieves in this colonial economy: foreign-dominated banking, telecommunication, mining, electricity, or kindred of long-established. Or beneficiaries of (b) nepotistic networks syphoning from big-budget public units such as UNRA, URA, UPDF, State House or other. Thus, you will hear me cynically say this cry, a lot.

CAPITALISM’S GENIUS

Please note, dear reader, that the genius of capitalist exploitation is denying us collective bargaining— denying us collective pain. Ever wondered why our capitalist employers are ever willing to negotiate different salary rates for people doing the same job — qualifications and talents notwithstanding—and that your salary should be secret?

Yes, to deny us chance to unionise, demand or cry together. Capitalism also creates these fictions of success. It is easy to argue that these are class struggles. But in a space “without an economy but an extractive process,” as my friend, Kalundi Serumaga has described Uganda, it is difficult to talk about classes —even when these folks pretend to be classy, eating with knives and folks.

Look, these folks are not in charge of any capital, neither are they actual workers. They are the pampered victims of this extractive industry in even worse fragility than the rest of us. Just a single shock or change of government will turn them into paupers.

yusufkajura@gmail.com

The author is a political theorist based at Makerere University