Remembering good old deeds serves the making of new ones

By Magode Ikuya 

Last Saturday, while the country was engrossed with Women’s Day celebrations in Kyankwanzi district, I set off to Mbale for a funeral of the eldest son of one of the long-deceased brethren of our struggle, the indomitable Natolo Masaba. 

As I hobbled to take a seat in a tent I was being ushered to at the venue of the funeral, I could not fail noticing the endurance of suffering since Natolo was killed. 

The homestead for the funeral consisted of a tiny little shack around which stood a crumbling unfinished structure of burnt brick walls. My distress was further multiplied during speeches of oration. 

The few who made any hints to Natolo Masaba sounded remote; the unique personality of a renowned fi rebrand from Bugisu in our country’s politics seemed to have, over the years, been receding and fading from our society’s memory. 

The blame cannot be squarely on the young people. It is the stories we have told or not told of our society’s tribulations to the current crop of youngsters, which probably contribute to disabilities curtailing the sharpness of social awareness.

It is such fear of guilt, the abetting of crime or being accessory to it, which now propelled me to invoke my role as the publicity secretary of the NRM Historical Leaders Forum to sketch a few diagrams of this enigmatic name. 

Those still alive, who saw many episodes involving the said name, may add their own impressions so that his deeds may be fully etched in our country’s history. 

This serves others who are unaware to draw necessary inspirations for their own tastes. The great deeds of past names fertilise the making of greater ones. The name Natolo Masaba first popped to my attention through a news item of Uganda Argus newspaper following independence day power shift. 

It was reported that a man, clad outrageously in traditional Bugisu bark cloth, had sought entry into the prime minister’s office at the Parliament buildings. 

James Magode Ikuya

In the course of Police attempts to forcibly eject the unwanted figure, the newly-installed prime minister Milton Obote, who was walking downstairs, breezily asked: “Natolo, what are you doing at my offices?” 

Natolo regained the composure of his strewn away bark cloth. He retorted to Obote: “Ask what your policemen are doing to prevent an African from seeing his prime minister.” Obote laughed. 

He beckoned to allow Natolo to meet him. When, later, I met the physical figure whose name I had already begun admiring, the disposition was not disappointing. 

He radiated warmth and implacable commitment to the African-ness of our society. One day, Natolo and I accompanied Dan Nabudere, who was also a practicing lawyer in Mbale, to an event at Rock Classic Hotel Tororo. 

We found Felix Onama, then the minister of defence of the Obote government with a large entourage wining and drinking at the open-air hotel grounds during hours of the mid-day. 

The drinking spree happily welcomed us to take a table and make our orders. 

As our order was being served, Natolo pushed back his chair and walked to the parking yard, returning with the driver of the minister and two of his bodyguards whom he asked to carry away our full plates for them to eat at the yard. 

We then had to make new orders for ourselves. His ardent restless spirit against uppish habits could not brook his seeing merriness of feasting when underlings were scorching in sun-heat hungry. 

His knack for messaging political tasks made him a darling of any aggrieved people. For his enthusiasm, he was one of those expelled from the Uganda People’s Congress (UPC). 

He was later detained in Luzira in the infamous UPC detention without trial. The Idi Amin regime clobbered him to death in Makindye Military Police Barracks in 1973 when he had just come out of Obote’s detention. 

Natolo’s name ought to be a handbook for anyone yearning for African unity and dignity.

The writer is the Minister of State for East African Community Affairs