Bunyaruguru Dispatch: Prof. Mutebile’s name cannot be vulgarized but……

By Aggrey Nshekanabo

I have this week been conflicted on what to put in my Bunyaruguru dispatch to my friend Ssentongo in Kaggwe. You see, my writing of letters to friends goes way back to the late 1980s when I was a pupil at Kirugu Primary School in the then Bunyaruguru County (now Rubirizi District) in the then greater Bushenyi District. At the time, UNICEF officials visited our school and among them was Jeanette Bataringaya, a very smart lady in a white polo-shirt and blue jeans and ankle black boots. On the team was an elderly lady, one Zirabamuzaale.

We made a presentation and afterwards, I was singled out and given an orange pen. I was in Primary three and our class was housed in the grass-thatched Church. Miss Bataringaya gave me a card with a P.O Box Kampala address. She implored me to write to her and tell her what I would want to be. I eventually wrote and took the letter to Rugazi Post Office. I walked about 7km from our home Kyambura. I got the reply two years later with a set of books. She wanted me to join Ntare School and she said it was near their home. And that perhaps I could become a lawyer. I never went to Ntare neither did I become a lawyer. We kept writing to each other until my letters were never responded to. I later got to know that she travelled to America. So, I loved writing and I even did that for a living.

Thirty or so years later, I am back to writing to my friend Ssentongo in Kyaggwe from where it all started. I promised to send him a weekly dispatch. So much happened at the beginning of last week and so much is still happening as the week reaches midway. Perhaps, the saddest news was the passing on of a public figure, Prof. Tumusiime Mutebile. Before the public could mourn him, the spotlight was immediately moved from his sad passing to his wife’s demand to keep the house of the Governor of the Bank of Uganda.

I cannot claim to know the late Mutebile by any iota. But there are two occasions I had audience with him. The first was when I was starting out as a Business Writer in mid 2000s. I had been chosen to take part in a three-day training workshop in business reporting that was sponsored by Bank of Uganda. My Editor at the time, Mr. Stephen Asiimwe had implored me to get an “Exclusive” from the Governor. The training took place at Grand Imperial Hotel, just opposite Bank of Uganda. Asiimwe had already gotten a heads up from Mr. Juma Walusimbi, the then Director for Communications at the Central Bank. I had specific questions that had been given me. So, when I eventually got audience with the Governor, he asked me; “First of all, what is your name and how much do you know about banking and finance?”

I stuttered but was able to say; “I do not know much but if he can make me understand, then I would write a story that our readership would appreciate;” So, in 15 minutes I had an audience with this man who insisted on knowing my name so that when he is responding, he can call me by name. He was shocked when I told him I am Nshekanabo. “Ori Mutabani wa Nshekanabo? Iwe kuntarakumanya!” Are you Nshekanabo’s son? But I do not know you!” First, I didn’t know any other Nshekanabo apart from myself. And my father is not Nshekanabo. In those 15 minutes, I told him I am from Bunyaruguru and he exclaimed how beautiful the place is. At the time, banks were on a branch opening spree and so, my questions were around getting the unbanked banked.

I then told him that growing up in Bunyaruguru, there was a UCB branch at Kichwamba Sub County, which was closed and so the people of Bunyaruguru had to go to Kasese or Ishaka to bank. To cut the long story short, we had an exclusive; Only 16% of Ugandans are banked – BoU Governor! It was in the interest of government to bring everyone in the money economy through banking. And he personally was involved in the opening of some of the many branches of different banks.

The second and last time, I met him for another 5 to 10 minutes was at Kampala Club. This is an exclusive club and you can only access it if you are a guest of a member. I had been invited by the late Dr. Abel John Julian Rwendeire who supported us in running Orutambi Newspaper. Dr. Rwendeire had just returned from Austria where he served as UNIDO Director. As we had our drinks and a meal, Prof. Mutebile walked up to our table. And Rwendeire stood up, I followed suit. And Mutebile said; “Ahurwendeire waizire ryari?” meaning when did you come? I had never known that Rwendeire had cut out the Ahu from his name. And guess what, he looked at me and said; “Ogu kuntaramumanya. Okazaarayo omwojo waamutushereka? No. no. I know this boy. He is a writer. Oryota mwana?

He thereafter left us to enjoy our meal, but he asked Rwendeire to call him Baganiire (and they have a conversation). And Rwendeire explained told me never to write the Governor’s name with an L but R. Rwendeire further advised that if I really want to meet people that matter, I should join Rotary. He further told me, that if you are a good man, good will always come to me. “Just look at Mutebile (there was an emphasis on e but it is not written), good has always followed him because he is a good man. And he can have whatever he wanted anywhere;” These good men are unfortunately now sgone.

So, when I listened to the late Governor’s wife saying that she needed a house and more especially the one they have lived in for 21 years, it was not because she wanted it for Mutebile. That to me was obscene and it vulgarised an good man who understood the world we lived in and who was in charge of the world economy. In Rukiga it is called Okuhemura Emanzi (ashaming a hero). If she wanted a house, as good and even better than that of the Governor and continue to live the life of The Governor’s Wife (wait for her autobiography with such a title), she can have it in her widowhood either built by Mutebile’s friends or by the accumulated benefits of her late husband. She doe does not need to work at all. The man left her enough to afford the life she has been accustomed to and more.

If she wanted, she could live on the beaches of Hawaii for the remainder of her life. Because, we know, Mutebile was privileged enough to have a house anywhere he wanted on the globe. Except he knew, his body and soul belonged to Omuruhita, Kabale. And for the record, Prof. Mutebile never called himself Doctor (PhD). He abandoned his doctorate studies to serve above self (his country).

He lived the Four-way Test of the Rotarian’s creed to the letter! Neither did he refer to himself as Professor. Though we know one does not need a PhD to be professor. He did not need a PhD to be a Professor of modern day economics. He was always Emmanuel Tumusiime-Mutebile. But… how could his death not affect the stock market? Will look at that next week.

Aggrey is a retired journalist and the team lead at www.kyamburasafaris.com, the proprietors of Naalya Motel; aggrey@kyamburasafaris.com