Book review: The past in pictures
THE publication of Uganda: A Picture History 1857-2007 could be a turning point for Ugandan and international historians, and the generations of youngsters who often struggle to draw vague mental images in a jubilant effort to visualise content in the books of history.
Book: Uganda: A Picture History
Publisher: Fountain Publishers Kampala
Publication: 2008
Available: Aristoc Booklex
Reviewer: Zakia Tebetyo
THE publication of Uganda: A Picture History 1857-2007 could be a turning point for Ugandan and international historians, and the generations of youngsters who often struggle to draw vague mental images in a jubilant effort to visualise content in the books of history.
Often, history is told or written with a bias — writers either choose to recollect with anguish, removing or adding barbs for personal reasons or writing history in poetry.
Two birds could be dead by this book: A fairer and more balanced display of history, and a visual portrayal of the words. There could be a third bird: History that successively sustains reading pleasure — if not watching.
It was Mexican painter Frida Kahlo who demonstrated the power of speech of a picture. Her pictures spoke loud. She compressed thousands of stories, themes and dreams in a single painting. They were also, often, wrought with emotion and beauty. A close pattern is visible in this publication.
Uganda: A Picture History has, to a commendable degree, captured memories about Uganda. Blessed by nature and battered by politics; unified by folklore, hued by colonists, and sometimes by the colonial successors.
Chapters based on shifts of civilisation and leadership, it has pictures of homesteads of the 1850s to the sky-defying buildings of Kampala. It is nostalgic to see how far we have come.
Hand-drawn and grey pictures bring the book into motion, often showing landscapes and vegetation and the royal circles.
Most of the pictures in the first chapter, depicting the first definitive times of Uganda, are still as compared to those that were taken later; action pictures cram the biggest part of the last half of this book.
In fact, to those who often find the mendacious chronicles of history a rewarding reading, these pictures provide a field day. The story is told to both the ridiculous and often ignored nitty-gritty.
There is a recognisable way this book reinforces appreciation of people and places, which seem to combine and create an impressive and telling spectacle.
With several mug-shots, the editors display an album of the goatee and bushy bearded colonial lords; their renowned trademark of exploitation glittering on their faces.
This picture book too, creates room for not only imaginative, but also interesting comparisons. Sir Edward Mutesa seems to have had the most eye-catching first lady, only contested by the younger Miria Obote.
Aerial pictures seem to suggest that Kampala city was better organised in the mid 1970s than it might be now.
Significantly, however, the heart of this book lies in the way people and presidents interact: The absolute inexistence of a difference in leaders — often retracing the already travelled paths. In several pictures, all leaders have fans and drum beaters. Even colonialists had them. The pictures are vivid.
No words can capture the width of the smiles that eat up leaders’ faces on occasions of national pride: Obote on Independence Day, October 9, 1962; Amin on a graduation, and the event that saw him claim conqueror of the British Empire; and Museveni on CHOGM 2007.
Could be far from now, but the temptation to view and perhaps appreciate Uganda: A Picture History 1857-2007 in the lens of Frida Kahlo’s works is well-salted.
This book will definitely reinforce pride and patriotism in most nationals. Long shot impressions of the Parliament building show a sturdy complexion that has survived rough times of rage and hatred.
John Akii Bua, Dorcus Inzikuru, the glitter in kings and the innumerable international guests that Uganda has hosted, are generously displayed and stand as elements of hope.
It is a priceless album of history. It is the long awaited addition to both learning and private reflection: A timeless tourist attraction — a kind of national portrait that can stand bolder than the country’s miniature museum and a kind of documentary that is rewarding for all age-rating.
What stands out?
Who could argue that Iddi Amin (1971-1979) was more handsome and the most jovial of Ugandan presidents? He also had the most funfairs. But what is most known is having turned his country into a hellhole of terror.
The pictures in this book tell Amin’s story — his flamboyance: How he gave speeches pocketing and bulging and sometimes; on top of bicycles; how whites carried him like a monarch and the striking look on Gen. Blair’s face after he was made to kneel before a hut for negotiations.
Publisher: Fountain Publishers Kampala
Publication: 2008
Available: Aristoc Booklex
Reviewer: Zakia Tebetyo
THE publication of Uganda: A Picture History 1857-2007 could be a turning point for Ugandan and international historians, and the generations of youngsters who often struggle to draw vague mental images in a jubilant effort to visualise content in the books of history.
Often, history is told or written with a bias — writers either choose to recollect with anguish, removing or adding barbs for personal reasons or writing history in poetry.
Two birds could be dead by this book: A fairer and more balanced display of history, and a visual portrayal of the words. There could be a third bird: History that successively sustains reading pleasure — if not watching.
It was Mexican painter Frida Kahlo who demonstrated the power of speech of a picture. Her pictures spoke loud. She compressed thousands of stories, themes and dreams in a single painting. They were also, often, wrought with emotion and beauty. A close pattern is visible in this publication.
Uganda: A Picture History has, to a commendable degree, captured memories about Uganda. Blessed by nature and battered by politics; unified by folklore, hued by colonists, and sometimes by the colonial successors.
Chapters based on shifts of civilisation and leadership, it has pictures of homesteads of the 1850s to the sky-defying buildings of Kampala. It is nostalgic to see how far we have come.
Hand-drawn and grey pictures bring the book into motion, often showing landscapes and vegetation and the royal circles.
Most of the pictures in the first chapter, depicting the first definitive times of Uganda, are still as compared to those that were taken later; action pictures cram the biggest part of the last half of this book.
In fact, to those who often find the mendacious chronicles of history a rewarding reading, these pictures provide a field day. The story is told to both the ridiculous and often ignored nitty-gritty.
There is a recognisable way this book reinforces appreciation of people and places, which seem to combine and create an impressive and telling spectacle.
With several mug-shots, the editors display an album of the goatee and bushy bearded colonial lords; their renowned trademark of exploitation glittering on their faces.
This picture book too, creates room for not only imaginative, but also interesting comparisons. Sir Edward Mutesa seems to have had the most eye-catching first lady, only contested by the younger Miria Obote.
Aerial pictures seem to suggest that Kampala city was better organised in the mid 1970s than it might be now.
Significantly, however, the heart of this book lies in the way people and presidents interact: The absolute inexistence of a difference in leaders — often retracing the already travelled paths. In several pictures, all leaders have fans and drum beaters. Even colonialists had them. The pictures are vivid.
No words can capture the width of the smiles that eat up leaders’ faces on occasions of national pride: Obote on Independence Day, October 9, 1962; Amin on a graduation, and the event that saw him claim conqueror of the British Empire; and Museveni on CHOGM 2007.
Could be far from now, but the temptation to view and perhaps appreciate Uganda: A Picture History 1857-2007 in the lens of Frida Kahlo’s works is well-salted.
This book will definitely reinforce pride and patriotism in most nationals. Long shot impressions of the Parliament building show a sturdy complexion that has survived rough times of rage and hatred.
John Akii Bua, Dorcus Inzikuru, the glitter in kings and the innumerable international guests that Uganda has hosted, are generously displayed and stand as elements of hope.
It is a priceless album of history. It is the long awaited addition to both learning and private reflection: A timeless tourist attraction — a kind of national portrait that can stand bolder than the country’s miniature museum and a kind of documentary that is rewarding for all age-rating.
What stands out?
Who could argue that Iddi Amin (1971-1979) was more handsome and the most jovial of Ugandan presidents? He also had the most funfairs. But what is most known is having turned his country into a hellhole of terror.
The pictures in this book tell Amin’s story — his flamboyance: How he gave speeches pocketing and bulging and sometimes; on top of bicycles; how whites carried him like a monarch and the striking look on Gen. Blair’s face after he was made to kneel before a hut for negotiations.