Out of Africa . . .

Memories of the poet-president of Senegal, Leopold Sedar Senghor,
burn bright and luminous.

In Kampala, it is again history you remember. There is the sad episode of the Israeli attack on Entebbe, of course. But more than that, it is the political story behind the pains and pleasures Uganda has spasmodically gone through that you recall. There is Milton Obote, the founder-president of the country. His rule, in two different phases of Ugandan history, was not particularly enlightening. And yet, as you set foot at Entebbe airport, you cannot but recall that Obote belongs to a generation of African nationalist politicians who eventually led their nations to freedom. Julius Nyerere, Kenneth Kaunda, Jomo Kenyatta and, at a later point, Robert Mugabe and Nelson Mandela are some of the more significant of faces you see in the mirror of the times.
Along the quiet streets of Kampala, with all the abundant charm nature has thrown Africa's way, there are the disturbing moments in time which you do not forget. Idi Amin personified all that was evil and clownish about those who came after the continent's founding fathers. He had to go; and he did eight years after he had deposed Obote, in 1979 when the Tanzanian army marched into Uganda and pushed him into flight to Saudi Arabia. Obote came back, but turned out to be an autocrat. It was not long before Yoweri Museveni took charge. He remains in charge, much like Rwanda's Paul Kagame. Together these two men, for all their authoritarian inclinations, have presided over a vibrant new Africa. Add to these names that of Eritrea's Issaias Afewerki and you know that Africa has a chance of a good future for itself. Had the Congo's Laurent Kabila lived he might have made it to this club. His son Joseph remains stymied by his enemies nearly everywhere.
You look out, even as you take a walk in the breezy, bright Kampala dawn, at Lake Victoria and let your mind wander farther back into the recesses of history. The Belgians plundered the Congo. The French ruled their colonies but did not deem it necessary to leave a proper administrative structure behind. It was a mistake the British did not make, which is why in every country they ruled there has remained a structure which may have become notorious for its bureaucratic lethargy but which does hold up the governmental framework in a number of ways. So there are all these thoughts that come crowding in, here in a continent which men like Joseph Conrad have consistently tried to denigrate.
Lake Victoria shimmers close by as a group of school children troop down to Sunday mass at church. You think of churches and churchyards and ancient graves in all the places you have been to or have heard of. Fifty years ago this month, Camelot was brought down in America when the young John Fitzgerald Kennedy was cut down in Dallas. It seems like yesterday when you went to school and were told by your teachers that the president of the United States had been assassinated. You did not know what 'assassination' meant and shouted 'hooray' cheerfully, until a stern rebuke from the principal and the meaning of 'assassination' sent us into a flurry of sadness. You think of Kennedy's grave at Arlington. And you reflect on all the men and women who have died in violence in diverse parts of Africa. The killing of Igbos in short-lived Biafra, the murders of Nigeria's leaders and military officers, the ethnic cleansing, or nearly, of Tutsis in Rwanda in 1994, the coups which left governments overthrown and overturned in Africa are the tragic tales your sense of history arouses in you.
And yet there are the stories of courage, of intellectual enlightenment that come out of Africa. Memories of the poet-president of Senegal, Leopold Sedar Senghor, burn bright and luminous; and then there are Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe and Chimamanda-Ngozi Adichie who keep you riveted to the hope that has not died in Africa. Think of Desmond Tutu.
Africa gives you tales of valour even as it depresses you with its epics of unmitigated sadness. The stars hang low in the African sky and at dawn it is a beautiful light which touches you as you watch the fleece-like clouds up there. Out of Africa, there is a poignant history of civilization which reaches out to you. You see that history in the smile of the young woman who looks at your passport, cracks a charming little joke and welcomes you to Uganda. You notice the pride in the Kampala young man when you speak to him of the many historical dimensions of his country.
The day moves on. It will soon pass into night and on to another day. Patrice Lumumba's Congo awaits you.

As you set foot at Entebbe airport, you cannot but recall Milton Obote,

the former president of the country.

The writer is Executive Editor, The Daily Star.