Prologue Of The Ugandan Affair

PROLOGUE –September 1978

PROLOGUE –September 1978 In the London suburb of Kingsbury, Marc Hawes was having his breakfast while trying to read a letter. He had done all the work he had to present that day and was happy that he did not have to do it in the morning. He knew he had a long day ahead of him and did not want to leave home, but he had to or else he would be in trouble. The last time he faked sickness, he was found out and received a severe reprimand. Wolfing down his breakfast, he continued reading the letter from Uganda. He and his Ugandan counterpart had been in touch for over two years and he was always happy to receive more mail than he sent. The cornflakes he was stuffing himself with spilt onto the table as he missed his own mouth with a spoonful of it. Putting down the spoon, he decided to concentrate on the letter since his coordination would only earn him a warning from the lady of the house as well as having to clean the tablecloth, a thing that was not one of his favourite pastimes. He liked Fene, his Ugandan friend, not only because he supported his Manchester United team but also because it gave him bragging rights because none of his peers knew anyone on the African continent. He started reading the letter again, this time holding it with both hands. Fene K ivebu laya C lass Mon i to r Sen io r 1C ( ! ) Marc Hawes

K ings Co l l ege Budo

103 Stuar t C lose

P.O .Box 7121

K ingsbury

Kampa la

London

Uganda

NW5 8DD

Eas t Af r i ca

Eng land

Af r i ca

Un i ted K ingdom

The Wor ld ! The Un ive rse

Dear Marc ,

I hope you are we l l . These s ides , th ings are not go ing so we l l . We, or shou ld I say o

at war wi th Tanzan ia and peace ta l ks have f a i l ed (aga in ) . I see the a i r f o rces j e t f i gh over my schoo l on the i r way to bomb the enemy near the borde r but beyond tha t , we

okay. Have you ever seen a j e t f i gh te r f l y i ng over your house? I t makes the windows and a lmos t break ! I t i s rea l l y coo l ! How i s London? I s i t get t i ng co lde r? I saw a p i some ch i l d ren i n Amer i ca b i l t a l a rge snowman . Can you do the same th ing the re? One want to come to Eng land to bu i ld a snowman .

Today we l ea rn t about wr i t i ng l e t te r s i n c lass . I am wr i t i ng th i s one sec re t l y becau tha t the gove rnment reads l e t te r s go ing to your coun t r y.

My teacher ’ s wi fe i s

ca r

a long wi th a baby ‘ under cons t ruc t i on ’ and i t wi l l be put i n the pos t when she gets to PROLOGUE –September 1978

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PROLOGUE –September 1978

( the l e t te r , not the baby) . I n f ac t , I was th ink ing o f wr i t i ng th i s l e t te r i n i nv i s ib f r i ends spec ia l spy wr i t i ng k i t tha t he bought i n town but he sa id no because then not be a sec re t anymore i f

he to ld me how to make the i nk v i s ib l e . I t was my Unc le

heard te l l i ng my dad tha t any l e t te r coming to or l eav ing Uganda i s se rv i ce peop le .

When my dad asked h im how he knew tha t ,

read by the

my unc le sa id tha t he h

wr i t ten to a f r i end i n Amer i ca te l l i ng h im not to wr i te anyth ing aga ins t the gove rnme l e t te r s to Uganda . He then got a l e t te r f rom the Ugandan gove rnment deny ing tha t i t peop les l e t te r s and ask ing h im to s top l y i ng to h i s f r i end . And then they l aughed! unders tand i t . Grownups have a f unny sense o f humour , don ’ t you th ink? My Unc le i s a the top i c even when he i s not around . He got marr i ed the othe r day but on the f i r s t

o f h i s honeymoon , h i s wi fe was at our house c ry ing to my mother tha t he d id not respe

Apparen t l y , he woke up i n the morn ing and asked her how much she cha rged f o r the n igh

wonder what a l l tha t was about . But he i s a b i t s t range . One day when he had taken m to the a i rpo r t , he i n su l ted a very b ig and s t rong por te r the re f o r no reason . J u s t

was go ing to beat h im up , Unc le gave h im l o t s o f money. The man coo led down and Un kep t on abus ing h im. The par t I

d id not unders tand was tha t the b ig man was ac t

agree ing wi th Unc le and nodd ing a l l the t ime . But he does have f unny s to r i es . He a l tha t the Pres iden t wants to change the name o f Uganda to ID I LAND. Cou ld you be l i eve Becoz then , we wou ld not be ca l l ed Ugandans but ID IOTS! I hope he doesn ’ t do tha t !

They a l so say tha t Amin ’ s reg ime i s on i t s l a s t l egs ( as i f i t had spa re l egs ) and th

f o r a t ranz i sh ion i n the pos t war per iod , whateve r tha t means . I don ’ t see what the p has to do wi th the war. A l l

I

know i s tha t the gove rnment i s say ing everyday tha

beaten the enemy and tha t they are a l l runn ing away. What I am wonder ing i s i f the en runn ing away everyday , why i s the BBC say ing tha t the army i s be ing beaten? Now I

k

why the Pres iden t banned the BBC f rom repor t i ng i n Uganda because they a lways l i e

don ’ t say what the gove rnment te l l s them to say. Those BBC peop le must have been v

bad pup i l s i n schoo l i f they can ’ t obey the i r sen io r s a f te r grow ing up! The othe r da no e lec t r i d i c i t y

at

schoo l

for

two days .

They say

the

rebe l s

b lew up the

e le

sobos ta t i on but i t seems i t was b i l t back very f as t and now the re i s powe r .

I have to go now and make su re I g ive Mrs . Withe rs th i s l e t te r so tha t she can h ide i t

Did I te l l you she i s coming to Eng land to have anothe r baby? I f I was her , I wou ld

baby here because f rom what I hear , i t i s too co ld i n Eng land . You r next l e t te r to m

PROLOGUE –September 1978

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PROLOGUE –September 1978

get here , i t depends on how the war goes . But at l eas t you are not chang ing your add I can a lways get th rough to you . Wish me l uck as we ente r th i s se r i ous war and pray f o r me to get th rough i t

wi t

sc ra tch . Goodbye f o r now You r pen pa l Fene K ivebu laya PS :

we are not

a loud to

l i s ten to

f o re ign rad io s ta t i ons anymore so I

don ’ t

Manches te r Un i ted are do ing . I hope they are do ing we l l . “Marc! You are going to be late for school. Have you finished your breakfast?” The shrill voice was of his mother, who, as usual, was trying to get him to be ready on time. “Yes,” he replied, “I was just reading the letter from my Ugandian pen pal. Did you know that there is a war going on there?” “Just get your self ready or you will have a war here and now young man,” was the answer he got. Checking his bag to see if everything was there, he jumped off the breakfast table and went to the front door to put on his shoes. His mother walked in as he was stuffing his feet into them. “What did I tell you about wearing shoes?” she asked him with raised eyebrows and arms akimbo. Lowering his face, he answered, “That I should undo the laces before wearing them.” “And what else?” “That I should not walk around the house in them,” “Good. Now, clear the table. You are not like your pen pal whose family have servants to do their bidding. Even if I do let you go to Africa to see him, you will still have to clear up after yourself. You are a Hawes and we always behave responsibly,” she said, checking herself in the mirror in the sitting room. Being a single parent had not been easy on her. Her job as a commodities trader put her in constant touch with many eligible men but she had decided long time ago that her emphasis would be on bringing up her only child. She knew that he needed a father figure but was happy ensuring that he grew up disciplined. His obsession with Africa was something that kept him occupied outside of schoolwork as did his dedication to Manchester United Football Club. She never understood football, but if that is what kept him active and focussed, she could live with it. “Come on,” she said to him, “Put everything in the dishwasher. We have to get going or you will be late for school.” “Coming mother,” he said, carefully putting the plates and cups into it and switching it on after closing its door. Dashing out of the kitchen, he almost bumped into his mother who was coming to check on him.

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kn

PROLOGUE –September 1978

“What did I tell you about running in the house?” she demanded as she held his arms to steady him. “Sorry mother,” he said as he shook her off, side stepped her and grabbed his school bag, “I am ready now,” Heaving a sigh, she delved into her bag and pulled out the keys to her Mini Cooper. On leaving the house, she locked the front door before turning around and opened the driver’s door of the car. Quick as a flash, Marc dived through it and onto the front passenger seat and proceeded to buckle the seat belt before his mother could object. “Very smart, young man. I will let you sit there for today, but tomorrow, it will be the back seat, okay?” she said as she entered the car and discarded her high-heeled shoes, placing them next to Marc’s little feet. “But mum, I don’t even need a booster seat anymore. All the children at school sit next to their parents when they come to school. They will laugh at me if I am seen in the back seat. I am eleven years old already………” “No buts,” she said, cutting him off as she started the engine and did up her seatbelt before reversing out of the driveway. She knew this boy was growing up fast. She could tell that he wanted to sit in the front so as to see how her feet worked the pedals, and for most of the trip to school, that was exactly what he did. He was fascinated by cars and the posters in his room were a constant reminder to her. “So,” she said as they neared the school, “What else did your pen pal say besides the war?” “He said that he wants to come to Britain one day and build a snowman. They have no snow over there except on the mountaintops. Could he come over one holiday? He says that the Christmas holiday is the most long..” “Longest,” she corrected him, “Longest holiday,” “Yes, longest holiday, and we can really have fun with him.” “All that depends on your school work, young man.” She liked encouraging him to dream so as to make him strive harder in whatever he did. “Yes mother,” he said submissively, “I will study hard.” By now they had reached his Saint Andrews Church of England Primary school. Coming to a halt in the driveway, she undid his seatbelt. “Give mummy a kiss,” she said as he was about to scurry out of the car. “Aww,” he complained, “Do I have to? They will laugh at me and call me a mummy’s boy.” He cringed as she pulled him towards her and planted a kiss on his forehead. “But you are mummy’s boy, aren’t you? Only a mummy’s boy gets to go to Africa. ” His face beamed. “Really?” “Get out and study hard! It will take more than that to get on my good side,” she said as she gave him another kiss. That made him get out in a hurry. “I love you mum,” he whispered so that his friends walking past would not hear.

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PROLOGUE –September 1978

She blew him a kiss. Now all she had to do was to battle the rush hour traffic to work and she hated it. She looked forward to arriving at her office and getting her teeth into her duties. She had no idea that all the way in Uganda, her son’s pen pal was going to have a life changing experience in the next hour.

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