He was charming, sharp, insightful, critical, eloquent and a no-holds-barred character who knew and used the right words; good enough for the print scribe to get a quote and excellent for a broadcaster’s soundbite.
He always had the last word, like Andrew Mwenda would say, on issues politics and the environment. Now he is back to where this entire journey started 73 years ago in Bulawa, Nawaka B village, Ikumbya sub-county, Luuka district in the Busoga sub-region.
His name is Professor Charles Oweyagha Afunaduula; the once famous and powerful Makerere University lecturer and environmentalist; the brains behind the National Association of Professional Environmentalists [NAPE].
Journey to Nawaka
In the course of writing a five series’ story about how President Museveni has dealt with his opponents ever since he took over the reins of power in 1986, I had to interview a series of Ugandans who have been participants for and against the 32-year Museveni rule.
Two of those participants were former Minister of ICT Aggrey Awori and Afunaduula, both hailing from eastern Uganda. For unforeseen reasons the first appointment with Awori never came through hence rescheduling to coincide with that of Afunaduula; after all, they were both on the same road – or so I thought.
Geography and infrastructure were about to school me otherwise. After a lengthy meeting with Awori at one of his homes in Kibimba along the Busia-Tororo highway after Bugiri, I headed for Afunaduula’s home, arriving in Kamuli at 6pm.
And the good, old professor clearly has adjusted easily to the village ways of life; for, listening to Afunaduula giving me directions to his home, I thought it was just outside Kamuli town.
But alas, from Kamuli to Namwendwa alone it is 15km and from Namwendwa to Nawaka it is another 20km, making it 35km, all made on a boda boda on a very dusty road.
That must count for my most uncomfortable ride, ever. On the way the boda boda stopped to pick another passenger, whom we agreed to take because he claimed to know Afunaduula’s place well. On he hopped with his big luggage – possibly fresh garden produce going by how much whatever was in the dirty bag was soaking my clothes!
And far from Nawaka, the passenger alighted in the middle of nowhere. When we asked him for the promised directions, he sheepishly asked: “Where again are you headed?”
We got to Nawaka somehow. The place where the man who used to move and shake things retired to. I arrived at his gate close to 8pm, all soaked in dust. I was determined to hold the interview, no matter what time I got to his house; after all, he was expecting me.
Indeed, the professor was very excited to see me, pleading that I spend a night for it was too late and dangerous to make the 35km journey back to Kamuli. I had asked my boda boda guy to wait, because in this remote village, if I let my ride go, I would be finished.
What Afunaduula did not say was that even if I returned to Kamuli, I would not be able to get a vehicle back to Kampala or even Jinja, as Kamuli shuts down quite early compared to other Ugandan towns.
Anyway, I stuck to my guns, planning to return to Kampala that night, for I had a journey to Fort Portal the following day. The darkness – thanks to dim solar-powered security lights – robbed me of a chance to observe the interior of Afunaduula’s fence.
But I could see trees surrounding the expansive house, adding another layer of blackness to the home. The professor is still crazy about conservation, I noted, hurrying to get indoors because the compound also held two barking dogs – I don’t know why they call them ‘man’s best friend’; I hate dogs…
Inside the house Afunaduula shares with his wife, a well-spoken young man in his twenties and a younger girl, I could see it was still a home of a former university professor. Books of all kinds – some standing on shelves in his reading room where the interview took place and others lying on tables in the living room.
My first question to the casually-clad Afunaduula was why he would choose to bury himself in Nawaka, where to my city-born eyes, the world seemed to end. His answer came simple and quick: it is the kind of life he has lived for much of his life.
He was exposed to rural life for almost 30 years when he worked in Kenya and Tanzania.
His pet subject, the environment, is also a village affair. Away from the city bustle and hustle is where the forests, rivers, lakes and swamps can flourish uninterrupted.
So, life for an environmentalist is always a rural one.
“God was preparing me for this kind of life; it was so easy for me to adapt, pulling myself down from the rural areas of Tanzania and Kenya to here. It was much harder in those two countries than it is here. I think I’m most easily adapted to rural life,” Afunaduula, sounding very religious throughout the interview, said.
He is actually greatly enjoying this life in his birthplace after “coming home” in 2015 following retirement from teaching at Makerere University.
He, nevertheless, agreed there were challenges of adapting especially after living away for so long.
“I’m still trying to know people; I’m still trying to know places; I’m still trying to connect my mind with the minds of the rural people. It is not easy, but I’m trying,” he says.
Avid Social Media User
Despite his age, Afunaduula is one of the most active social media users.
On his Facebook page, he posts on his timeline at least four times a day – no easy feat in Nawaka, I imagine. Afunaduula said change forced him to adapt to new media.
“I used to be very active on the national stage and at Makerere, and I was very influential at the regional stage because I was the chairman of Nile Basin Discourse, which is a regional NGO of 11 countries. Having come all the way here where you are now, I thought, how can I still remain relevant? How can I be connected to the rest of the world? I needed to be active somehow and I thought the best way to be active was not to go on writing in newspapers like I was doing or go debating like I used to do physically, but to use this modern technology. I think I have used it very effectively. It has kept me alive brain-wise, intellectually sharp and I thought it was my duty to the young generation – those who missed me those days.”
Social media is basically a bazzukulu (grandchildren, in President Museveni’s voice) thing, but Afunaduula says to blend in, one must be willing to speak their language.
“You have to be like a young man at least brain-wise; second, you must be aware of the things that interest the young people. Having been a young man before, it was very easy to transform myself and be like the youth of today,” he said.
Afuna, as he was fondly known, reminisced that during their time – the generation of Yoweri Museveni, Prime Minister Ruhakana Rugunda, Kahinda Otafiire and Amama Mbabazi, they were very active people. He feels duty-bound to share what he knows with the youth of today.
It came as no surprise then that he is a great admirer of Kyadondo East MP, Robert Kyagulanyi Ssentamu, aka Bobi Wine.
Spending time in the village
Afunaduula has never stopped reading or writing books; not one bit. He said if he stopped, he would speed up his aging. Actually, looking and listening to him one would be forgiven for thinking he is not yet even 60.
“There is a book I have just edited, written on academic conflicts in higher institutions of learning, but I’m also writing my own books. When I stop writing my books, then I start writing these things for the young people (Facebook posts). I’m very busy just like a bee,” Afunaduula said.
He has also discovered the farmer in him, growing both fruit and wood trees. He boasted that his private forest has all kinds of plants, including medicinal ones.
“I’m busy both mentally and physically; you have to be like that when you are an old person; otherwise, you age very fast,” he said.
Afuna said when one goes through the “white man’s education”, it disconnects one from one’s roots.
“If you have been born in the city, then it would be very difficult for you to be reconnected to your people where your parents came from. There is always fear to return; so, you would rather stay in the city and suffer from there. But I think there shouldn’t be fear because this is where we come from,” Afunaduula says.
After 45 minutes, I bid him farewell, dreading the long journey back to Kamuli. My rider stopped in a village near Nawaka to pick up a cowhide so fresh it was still dripping with blood, and placed it behind me on the bike!
Then in Namwendwa, where he stays, he refused to continue to Kamuli but found me another rider willing to make the 15km journey at 9:15pm.
As the bike roared through the dark, cold, night air, I noticed that almost every home had replaced food gardens with sugarcane plantations; the rider said they were out-growers for the sugar companies in the sub-region.
On the dark paths, the bike’s headlight regularly illuminated young girls returning from the wells with their jerricans, standing on the roadsides listening to young men presenting their ‘manifestos’. Their ‘normal’; hmmm…
At 10pm I reached Kamuli but there were no Kampala-bound taxis. Finding a motel in this place was another puzzle. Finally, I was directed to the appropriately-named Tobuuza Guesthouse. Indeed I asked no questions about the lack of meals on offer and just crawled into bed hungry.
At 11am the following day I was in Kampala and 2pm found me on the road to Fort Portal as planned.
bakerbatte@observer.ug