A few days ago, I phoned Prince John Patrick Barigye Rutashijuka Ntare VI of the currently stifled-but-once-great Ankole kingdom requesting for an interview on a subject that fate and experience have made him very familiar with.
Prince Barigye told me that he was not feeling well and I would have to call him the next week when he would hopefully be feeling well enough to conduct the interview.
I have profiled Prince Barigye before, interviewed him about Ugandan politics and other such issues, as well as visited his palace in Rubindi, along Mbarara-Ibanda road, where the Prince and his family hosted me to what still ranks as one of the more memorable Christmas seasons of my not so long life.
The point here is not that I have dined with royalty; far from it. I am only saying that journalism often provides those who practice it with front row seat tickets to historical events, and we witness it happen – first hand.
Or, in other instances, the profession provides us with the privilege of at least hearing directly from those who were either in the thick of the action or had the tickets to the front row seats when and as history unfolded.
It is our duty then, as journalists, to document this history and share it with the rest of the world.
Many times, however, we fail to perform this duty.
I was recently reminded of our shortcomings in this area following the death of the acclaimed Ugandan playwright, John Ruganda; the man whose writings formed the bulk of what we studied in our high school literature classes.
Just for the record, the great John Ruganda wrote plays and novels like The Burdens (1972), The Floods (1980), Black Mamba (1972), Covenant With Death (1973), Music Without Tears (1982), and Echoes of Silence (1986).
So John Ruganda, who has been silently suffering with Cancer in Uganda since February 2007 when he returned to the country (from the University of North in South Africa) never really got much mention in the Ugandan media until he passed away on December 9.
While such luminaries rarely get mention in the media, you have the likes of musician Henry Tigan, comedians Amarula Family, and Big Brother Africa II contestant Maureen Namatovu receiving headlines and whole pages in the media every other day!
In fact, although Ruganda passed away in the first week of December, it was only in the last weeks – long after even the Kenyans newspapers had several dedicated pages to his memory – that The New Vision newspaper finally wrote an obituary.
Contrast this with the time Big Brother Africa I contestant Gaetano Kaggwa was admitted in a hospital in Nairobi and the radio stations were providing almost hourly updates on his condition.
Maybe this is a pointer to the kind of society that Uganda has become today and I am one of the last people to realise it; a society where intellect is not as much as recognised, and materialism has long taken its place!
Ok, now I get the drift. And my heart bleeds because one day we will wish we had shared the pearls of wisdom that the older generation possessed, and we won’t have the chance. All because we simply didn’t care while they were here.
At this point I must confess that I am no better than those that I have held culpable for lethargic coverage of historical events and figures; I never called Prince Barigye again – and, in so doing, have cheated the reader of the newspaper I write for.
But not for too long – as I, too, have been reminded of the gravity of such apathy towards otherwise important issues.
Prince Barigye told me that he was not feeling well and I would have to call him the next week when he would hopefully be feeling well enough to conduct the interview.
I have profiled Prince Barigye before, interviewed him about Ugandan politics and other such issues, as well as visited his palace in Rubindi, along Mbarara-Ibanda road, where the Prince and his family hosted me to what still ranks as one of the more memorable Christmas seasons of my not so long life.
The point here is not that I have dined with royalty; far from it. I am only saying that journalism often provides those who practice it with front row seat tickets to historical events, and we witness it happen – first hand.
Or, in other instances, the profession provides us with the privilege of at least hearing directly from those who were either in the thick of the action or had the tickets to the front row seats when and as history unfolded.
It is our duty then, as journalists, to document this history and share it with the rest of the world.
Many times, however, we fail to perform this duty.
I was recently reminded of our shortcomings in this area following the death of the acclaimed Ugandan playwright, John Ruganda; the man whose writings formed the bulk of what we studied in our high school literature classes.
Just for the record, the great John Ruganda wrote plays and novels like The Burdens (1972), The Floods (1980), Black Mamba (1972), Covenant With Death (1973), Music Without Tears (1982), and Echoes of Silence (1986).
So John Ruganda, who has been silently suffering with Cancer in Uganda since February 2007 when he returned to the country (from the University of North in South Africa) never really got much mention in the Ugandan media until he passed away on December 9.
While such luminaries rarely get mention in the media, you have the likes of musician Henry Tigan, comedians Amarula Family, and Big Brother Africa II contestant Maureen Namatovu receiving headlines and whole pages in the media every other day!
In fact, although Ruganda passed away in the first week of December, it was only in the last weeks – long after even the Kenyans newspapers had several dedicated pages to his memory – that The New Vision newspaper finally wrote an obituary.
Contrast this with the time Big Brother Africa I contestant Gaetano Kaggwa was admitted in a hospital in Nairobi and the radio stations were providing almost hourly updates on his condition.
Maybe this is a pointer to the kind of society that Uganda has become today and I am one of the last people to realise it; a society where intellect is not as much as recognised, and materialism has long taken its place!
Ok, now I get the drift. And my heart bleeds because one day we will wish we had shared the pearls of wisdom that the older generation possessed, and we won’t have the chance. All because we simply didn’t care while they were here.
At this point I must confess that I am no better than those that I have held culpable for lethargic coverage of historical events and figures; I never called Prince Barigye again – and, in so doing, have cheated the reader of the newspaper I write for.
But not for too long – as I, too, have been reminded of the gravity of such apathy towards otherwise important issues.
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