The King’s Coming

The king of the Bugunda region of Uganda, the central and largest region in Uganda, came to see Kalagala falls, which are about 5km from my house. Therefore, a fair/show was put on at the banks of the falls to welcome and commemorate the king, or kabaka, of Buganda. Even the main square of Kangulumira was decorated and the trash was attempted to be picked up. Although I didn’t hear about the King coming until this past week, I was able to clear my schedule to go to the ceremony at the fair for the King. At first I was just going to make sure that I was there and I could get a site of him. Then, a head teacher from a neighboring school, Kamuli UMEA, who is also the sub zone leader of head teachers, asked me to accompany him to help represent our region. Although I knew I was just going to be their token muzungu, white person, I said alright because I knew I should, had to, and it would enable me to have a ride to the fair. The morning of the fair the head teacher actually came early, unheard of here in Uganda. But once we got there we walked to the falls, a part that I had never been to, and of course it was beautiful. All of the sudden a huge uproar of people came running to the falls because a car full of muzungus with kayaks were coming to raft the falls. Ugandans fear the river because of generations of people being killed from the current so the idea of kayaking the Nile seems ridiculous and therefore incredibly intriguing to watch. The muzungus turned out to be not Americans but a group of random French, Austrian, and Australian volunteers who didn’t know about the king’s coming so they were completely confused by the booths and large amounts of people. After I spoke with them, let them know about the king, they decided that because of the low water level of the Nile (an environmental issue that I will have to write about later) that they would skip a part of the Nile but raft a part that was also very dangerous and in the view of all of the Ugandans attending the fair. I was asked, and therefore took, a video of these unknown visitors. After getting a seat in the audience seating next to the King, I went to find some lunch. While I was eating, which was completely odd because I had no one eating at the tables beside me, I had the four walls of the tent lined with people—all watching me eat. If that wasn’t bad enough, I missed the initial walking in and welcoming of the King because of the inadequacy of the restaurant staff—I had to send back my chicken 3 times before I was able to convince them that I did not want to eat the neck or liver of the chicken. Once I was back in my seat I didn’t get a great look at the King because we sat directly next to him. However, for a few of traditional dances and songs I was able to take some pictures and videos. The African or Ugandan wrestling was great, because the players wrestled to the sound of drums they are almost dancing, even when interlocked. They still have to throw the other person to the ground on their back but it only takes about a minute and they don’t have any of the techniques or moves that American wrestlers use. I met one of the King’s ministers and he was very nice and encouraged me to go where I want to take pictures, and another minister who didn’t like it that I had to pass her in the aisle to get out and take a picture of the performances. She has actually been the first and really only Ugandan who has taken a miscommunication and cultural misunderstanding directly from me and who has been mean to me. Almost offended at the fact that I wanted to speak in Luganda to her, she told me to speak in English and accused me of kicking her when I went past her and since I left twice she said that I did it on purpose. Well, first, I would never kick anyone and if anything, I may have brushed past her legs. Second, the first time that I left to get past her she yelled at me to go slower because I almost knocked over her bottle of coke on the ground. I apologized in Luganda and assured her that I would not hit the coke because I saw it and for her not to worry. Not only did she not move her soda, she hissed at me after the second time I left that I was not to pass there again and got all huffy. When I went to talk to her she was very offended and said, I’m a minister, you cannot just kick me. I think she should have gotten off her high horse and tried to talk reasonably with me. But it was almost like because she works in Kampala and thinks coming to these rural villages is beneath her so having a Muzungu come and talk to her in Luganda like a commoner was an insult to her. I tried to explain, in English, that this was my first ceremony and since I enjoyed the culture so much that I wanted to capture it on film. Maybe she thought I was belittling her and the Ugandan culture, but in my opinion she is trying to be so modern, wants to speak English, etc. but is she ashamed of her culture? I don’t know, either way she didn’t even want to talk to me, she literally waved me off. The lady next to her who apparently was spurred on by this minister suggested, after I apologized and explained the reasoning for the passing, that I take another chair and put it at the end of the row so that I don’t disturb anyone else. Now, I would think a minister would be able to keep a level head and try to make a cultural understanding so that a reasonable compromise could be suggested, like from the other lady. I don’t know why this lady minister upset me so much, but it ruined my day and I felt so bad and insulted I was almost in tears. Because of this I didn’t even notice that the ceremony was being wrapped up and I didn’t get a good picture of the King, all of the sudden everyone got up and left. Then, as we were leaving, a man and women fell down the bank into the river and presumably died. Ugh, what a horrible ending to a wonderful day. But I got a ride back to my house by the super nice head master and spent the evening reading a book and having down time.