Muzaata, a porcupine and an elephant

When Sheikh Nuhu Muzaata Batte, a leader and head of Dawa in the Kibuli Muslim faction, died, it was like a punch in my face from Katumba Wamala.

I had never met him personally, but I never ignored any social media post about him.

His tough talk and daring tongue, especially about people and matters many prefer to massage with crocodile smiles, gave me an impression of invincibility.

His views on relationships were spewed out nude and unclad, making me want to be like him when I grow up.

Muzaata was my concept of People Power! Just before he died, his sickness was related to a heartbreak that was linked to the exodus of his young wife, Kulthum Nabunya.

She had abandoned ship and Muslim leaders were doing their best to return her so that she can doctor his heart back into normal rhythm.

It was my wife who gasped: Even Muzaata can miss someone to hospital levels!

Before I could ask myself a similar question, she added: Hmmm, every steel metal, including the toughest of all, has another steel metal that can cut it! Brilliant!

And she was not done: sometimes what floors an elephant is not as big as it is!

Before I could add: Excellent! Muzaata shipped out like a candle, which after defeating tonnes of darkness, he danced out at the advent of mild wind.

May his soul rest in peace.

I'm not saying he died of a heartbreak but I am also not saying he didn't.

Kulthum came with muscled men for burial and soon after, Muzaata's people chased her way.

I just wish I had visited him with my pro bono counselling services; I know how these things can bring down your immune system!

My wife's comments reminded me of an elephant and a porcupine. And I will begin with a porcupine.

Porcupines are large rodents that move around clad in an armour of sharp and pointy quills, whose sharpness can penetrate Bobi Wine's bulletproof vest.

When you see a porcupine abusing you, it is because it knows you have nothing to do to it.  

Its quills protect it against such predators as Uganda Police.

Alone, a porcupine can resist a pack of dogs by just hiding behind its bullet proof quill jacket.

If a porcupine was campaigning for NUP and Police swarmed in with live bullets, all it would do is to hide its face and belly as it swatted its tail to punish the assailant with arrows of quills, as deadly as Bobi Wine's tongue.

One time, I almost wished I was a porcupine; then I remembered that quills have a disadvantage: Where does Mr Porcupine pass after Miss Porcupine finishes all his chips and chicken? Do they enjoy sex?

The answer, my friends, is available after I explain how my wife's comments called to my mind, my childhood friend, Mr Jomo the elephant.

Jomo, the elephant was my preschool stuffed elephant doll, slightly smaller than Katumba Oyees' self-esteem.

Jomo, the elephant was so important to me that he almost made me abandon school.

We became soulmates because he was the only one at home who didn't find fault with me.

While my siblings were watching me keenly to find some fault to report to parents in order to procure for me some serious canes, Jomo the Elephant, was on my side.

He never reported me to parents, yet he knew most of my secrets.

It is, by the way, on record that I was fed on, on average, two canes a day from January to December.

I think I was naughty. If I missed being caned on three days of the week, I would recover all my missed canes on that weekend to still accumulate my weekly total of 14.

One time, I decided that the reporting and the canes were too much.

To survive them, I planned to murder everybody at home and raze down our house.

I confided my plans to Jomo the elephant. He just listened.

He neither talked me out of it nor reported me to parents. He was such a trusted friend.

Even when I planned to steal my dad's car and drive to heaven, the only place mum always said they drink Tree Top (a popular juice then) without diluting it, I told Jomo, the elephant, about it.

And he kept it a secret. By the time I joined Primary One, for we had no nursery then, Jomo, the elephant was so full of my secrets that he could bring me down if he wanted to.

Most of them were murderous because he got them when he was soothing me after the numerous kibokos from parents.

But he preferred to wait for me after school, which ended at lunchtime and he patiently listened to my narratives about school, without interrupting!

School was equally torturous because, in those days, no teacher was allowed in class if he did not promise to cane 50 students per day.

The per capita consumption of canes at our school was heavier than the tons of teargas Kyagulanyi has swallowed since the campaigns began.

In school, we had a popular session of folks tory telling where we were introduced to animals that used to talk, marry, deceive each other and still eat themselves.

I quickly noticed that the teachers and their folk stories were conspiring to make us love Mr Hare, the rabbit, even when he was a terrible fellow: sly, unreliable, crafty and always taking advantage of his friends.

Among his victims was Mr Elephant and, that was unacceptable!

No one was going to deceive the relatives of my Jomo, the elephant and walk scot free!

I decided that school had crossed the line. I made up my mind to hate Mr Hare, the folk stories and school.

I also started to edit the stories and put Jomo, the elephant, where Mr. Hare, the rabbit was.

But hating Mr Hare was torturous because, like Man City, he always won.

To save myself from the torture, I decided to abandon school.

Uganda was lucky I did not succeed because if I had, I would have joined Museveni in his resistance wars and, as a direct result, he would have lost and Obote would still be the president of Uganda.

In school, I was also introduced to Mr Cock, who had learnt a lot from Mr Hare about deceiving his friends.

He scared the whole village with a comb on his head, threatening to burn those who didn't vote for People Power.

He was betrayed by sleep, during which the village discovered that his comb was cold!

Similarly Miss Porcupine can scare humans, but not Mr Porcupine.

When he wants some, he know how to tickle Miss Porcupine into rearing up to expose her quill-less underbelly, which is the only safe sex position for porcupines!

So, my wife was right; Steel, Porcupines, elephants may scare the world but their intimate friends know where their soft spots are.

Muzaata too had a soft spot, known only to Kulthum!

Even Museveni does! So does Kayihura, Sejusa, Covid-19, corruption and all those things that have always scared us into trepidation.

There is always a switch that makes a lion coo like a dove. The question is, do you know your partner's switch?

Why are you gaping in thought? The article has ended; go and look for the switch!

It may take some time; but you are better off knowing where it is.