But, rather, in the words of Michaela Wrong, his was asking for a chance to eat. It was a genuine appeal, and despite being delivered in jest, it was sombre and voters believed him.
Indeed, pictures of Lubwama donned in shorts and T-shirts, alongside the swanky NRM legislator, Muhammad Nsereko “eating life abroad” that appeared online were greeted with loud cheers. Never mind that the environment looked new, and the former comic was clearly out of place.
There is a viral video of this DP- legislator struggling to explain his dream for his party in English language. Lubwama argued that the “Democratic party should be as the name is sounded.”
Sensing the grammatical problems with the sentence, Lubwama attempts a second pitch, which almost comes out the same way. Sensing this “embarrassing” deficit, he turns to the interviewer for rescue, “Kati awo ngambewo ntya?” (How should I say this one?).
The interviewer does not help, and Lubwama still fails to deliver what is clearly an obvious message, that was, “the Democratic Party should be true to its name.”
But failing to capture this basic argument in proper grammar did not dent his resume; rather, it emboldened it. It showed him as a representative of all half-educated Ugandans at a dining table which appears as reserved for the most educated fellas. But it is dining table all the same, and eating requires no much learning.
As a skit comic, and former vendor of paraffin candles – obutadooba – Lubwama connects with many Ugandans, whose struggle for sustenance had been laboured and remains difficult. He is the poor man’s dream.
It is not only Lubwama’s honest and genuine persona that qualifies him for a second term in the biggest eat-house at Parliament avenue but, rather, the absolute fakery of many of his colleagues in the same job (and any of his competitors, in their many numbers, all of them hungry foxes).
With a few exceptions, Kampala’s new breed of politicians – say for the last ten years – are a windy lot. They swing and fall with the tide. As I have argued before, they claim to belong to the parties they do, not because of some noble ideological persuasion but, rather, because the parties guarantee them victory into the eat-houses at Parliament avenue, and City Hall – and others spread across Kampala, and the district headquarters.
You see them nowadays donned in red tops and overalls, of a pressure group, while at the same time claiming to belong to their so-called parties. The ambition is simple; eating, and more eating.
But the problem with all these foxes is that they never speak a direct language, but skirt around in bombastic high-sounding English, filled with nothing but lies.
Surely, none of the men donning red berets and hanging around Bobi Wine wants to end the regime of President Museveni or end corruption in public service. Rather, Mr Wine and his red tops have emerged or are seen as steadier highways that can take or return one to Parliament avenue. This fakery kills me.
I hope I am not read as naïve and unaware of Lubwama’s failings. I have heard about his dubious dealings with boda-boda riders in his constituency.
I also learned that upon becoming legislator, he learned that the 20k plan with market women was untenable. The above, notwithstanding, Lubwama represents the direct-speaking politician [a quality terribly lacking in majority of our dullard legislators].
The other direct-speaking fellow is the smooth Pastor Peter Sematimba, who back in the late 1990s promised his listeners that he would look for money on end.
He had added that if money were in starting a church, or joining politics, he would do it. He did both. [This article is dedicated to my late wife, Ramlah Ssimbwa Nkinzi, who was a Lubwama fan. She loved Lubwama for his commonplaceness, and unpretentious ignorance. She told me most of these Lubwama stories).
yusufkajura@gmail.com
The author is a PhD fellow at Makerere Institute of Social Research
