Dear Uganda,

I remember when with pride I would stare at the beautiful colours of the Uganda national flag. No one would have convinced me that any country had a flag as beautiful as ours. I always laughed at nations that had similar national colours, and then I would scoff at them for being copycats. I didn’t care whether they were first world countries, no; I didn’t even know there was such a thing as positions in countries. For me, our flag was the best thing there was.

My beloved Uganda, when I looked at the globe or the maps in the atlas, no country could beat your well-endowed shape. I remember how tough it was drawing you. Only the artistic ones ever got your curves, corners, and lines right. The rest of us improvised with cutouts; the teachers did not approve. We kept on practicing to perfect our art. Perhaps we didn’t want to misrepresent you even in our picture books.

Each time I sang the national anthem; I meant every single word that I sang out loud. I am no musician, but I always gave the national anthem my best. Boy, I felt like songbirds had nothing on me. I don’t care who said what, those were the sweetest words anyone would have ever sung for their nation.

Uganda, oftentimes, I wondered and I still do how people in other countries survive if they don’t live here. You seemed to have it all; the perfect weather, the natural organic foods, pleasant people, and the diversity in culture. Talking about the different ways of doing things across the country has always been one of the things I enjoy doing.

I loved everything about you. Even at a young age, I closely followed politics. I knew all the ministers and their ministerial positions. I knew the names of the organizations, their short form, and full names. I could rattle off the heads of those organizations like I would be awarded a prize. I knew all the districts in the country and I prided on being well informed.

Then I wake up one morning and I don’t know who is holding which ministerial post, the changes were so rampant I couldn’t keep up. I stopped paying attention. I decided to mind my business. I was losing sight of the country that I once held so dear; it hurt, and I thought emotionally distancing myself from it would make it easier for me.

It didn’t; because the changes never stopped happening. Injustices have been committed against you for so long, injustices that we ignored; we probably thought they were only for a time, that they would go away. They only intensified. We ignored a tiny swelling, now it has grown into a tumor.

At this moment in time, I am not sure it is the same thing that I see. Is it possible I am high on something? I look at the flag and the flag colours have lost the meaning of what my Social studies teacher taught me. I see the black and all I see is the darkness surrounding my beloved country. Could it be because the yellow that represents the abundant sunshine seems to no longer shine? And I hear the cries of the people, wailing and mourning the blood flowing on the streets. Is that what the red colour means? Doesn’t the brotherhood exist anymore?

I am not sure I remember the exact words of the anthem. Even when I sing, I don’t have the faith to believe what I sing. In a way, the anthem feels like one of those nursery rhymes, quite enjoyable but you can’t take them seriously. Each time I pay close attention to the lyrics, I feel we have betrayed every single one of those words.

There was a time when I was afraid of policemen. I had heard so many stories about them that I wouldn’t even dare walk next to them. Then it all changed, all of a sudden, I could hold a conversation with them, laugh with them, and have the confidence that if I ever needed their help, they would give it.
Now, I see one and I shudder to think what they would do to me; even when I have done nothing wrong. It’s the trauma of what I have seen them do, the stories I have heard have left me feeling all kinds of coldness.

I have lost several people that meant so much to me. I thought my emotions were dulled. I thought I would never be able to feel any pain that I would never cry any more. How wrong I was! Today, I cry because we have failed you. I cry for the souls that have been killed and the spirits that have lost the will to fight. I cry for the blood that has been shed, not only in the streets but in safe houses and the hands of the tormentors.

Some people have been intoxicated by the power they think they have. Much as they may think they have the upper hand and can tread on just anyone this world belongs to no one. We will all end up in one place, and that’s eternity. Ask yourselves, what kind of seeds are you sowing for your children and what will the future generation say about you?

Despite everything, I still think that you are the best there is. I enjoy our great sense of humor the best. I always say that if in my second life I were asked to choose which country I would like to belong to, I would choose you still. That is why it hurts so bad when others take you for granted.

Despite all that, your flag will always fly high. We will always hold you dearly; you are our motherland.