AGAIN and again the question will be raised; has already been raised. Could the murderous Bududa landslides have been averted, or at least could the people have been saved from them? On the whole the answer seems: Yes; but only if you could remove human nature from the equation, which is much easier said than done.
Consider: if the army had been sent in to, where necessary, remove by force the Bududa inhabitants before the land gave way and killed as it did hundreds of them in the process, the outcry would have been deafening. Many who now blame Government for inaction would have been first in line to censor it for cruelty to innocent citizens, especially, far from the centre. And the more so if, the mountainside having been cleared of inhabitants, Mother Nature capriciously didn’t send rocks and boulders and mud to destroy the now empty landscape!
It can fairly be argued that by destroying the trees and rough bush and undergrowth, the people of Bududa were calling Nemesis down on their heads. Indeed President Museveni said as much to the survivors, advising them furthermore to take the opportunity to vacate the area.
Leaving aside for a moment the huge question of how they are to accomplish this exodus, another question rears its head. If the Bududans refuse, or are unable, to make the move will force be applied? Something suggests not, if only for the reason that it seems probably a step too far to take, even though it would be harshness carried out for reasons of caring.
I remarked when recently in Amritsar about the lack of high buildings on a road we were taking. “Ah,” said my friend, “permission was strictly not given because of worries that they would offer easy targets in case of war for the people on the other side!” Meaning Pakistan. That is still some way short of the seemingly authoritarian stance of forcibly moving people, for their own good, from where they are living; but the same prin
ciple applies. Incidentally, in the heat of the moment, President Museveni ordered the army to stay in the area until the last body had been recovered. That was entirely right when there was still a chance that some people, however few, might still be alive.
But now that all hope is gone, and aware that after a bit bodies disintegrate, and become highly toxic, what usually happens all over the world will undoubtedly happen in Bududa. The area will be sanctioned a proper burial place and covered over. In time the grass will grow, trees will be planted; the soil will be held down; nature will heal itself, with some help from humankind.
If people remember what had happened, they will not easily destroy the environment again, or at any rate there will be draconian measures to ensure it. And, before that, yes they should and must be moved, leaving that land free only for cultivation. Out of bad good would have come. ************** Nearly two and a half years since the heady days of CHOGM’s coming to Uganda, when the country stood up proud and gave what was readily agreed to be an unforgettable welcome to Queen and Commonwealth, it would have been impossible predicting the deeply shameful outcome we are now experiencing.
Unbeknownst to us at the time, even as we celebrated the happy events, the terrible termites of thievery (ttt) were burrowing deep into where the CHOGM cash lay and gorging themselves on it until their bloated bellies came close to bursting (perhaps even beyond that point!) The figures are negatively awe-inspiring: huge billions of shillings transferred from public to private pockets.
The good fall-outs we had expected from improved facilities and services on which the CHOGM cash was to be spent are nowhere to be seen. In its way the thieving rivals the waste and stench of Bududa.
Trying to grasp how it could have come to pass leaves you wondering whether the ttt set up huge channels in common to draw the cash out and then disperse it among themselves, or whether it was a thunderous free for all with loads of loot sticking haphazardly to this hand and that. Oh the resulting ghee on mouth and chin!
It makes one understand better how at dawn years ago, on a beach at Accra, Ghana, the young soldier-turned-president, Jerry Rawlings, rounded up seven fat-cats and shot them in one go. What shall we do to ours when they are in our hands?
The first thing is that let parliament continue its job and deliver them, preferably before its time has run out within the year. It was also the week we nearly lost our Premier, Prof Apolo Nsibambi in a freak helicopter accident. I have always feared these helicopters; incidentally often the mode of travel of none other than the President himself.
Fortunately Nsibambi survived, albeit with the slight indignity of having to wear corsets. Every time life tries to push him under he springs up again. May it long continue to be the case!
