Natural mystic

“There’s a natural mystic blowing through the air;
If you listen carefully now you will hear.
This could be the first trumpet, might as well be the last.
Many more will have to suffer,
Many more will have to die – don’t ask me why.

Things are not the way they used to be,
I won’t tell no lie;
One and all have to face reality now.
‘Though I’ve tried to find the answer to all the questions they ask.
‘Though I know it’s impossible to go livin’ through the past-
Don’t tell no lie.”

From the lyrics to ‘Natural Mystic’ by the great Bob Marley.

I just can’t get this song out of my head as I watch all that’s going on in the country right now. Scratch that, let’s bring it even closer. What’s going on in the city right now. Bring it even closer. What’s going on on the street below me right now. The street is on fire. Well literally, crowds of crazy youth have set a number of tyres and a kiosk on fire. They keep screaming about their allegiance to the king.

We have been sitting on the tribal furnace for quite a while now, and I feel much as today’s incidents were grim; 10 people reported dead, violent clashes between the police and stone-wielding youths, people having to walk home because public transport had come to a standstill…much as things were grim, it’ll only get worse before it gets better. There is a natural mystic blowing through the air. We are split along tribal lines in ways we won’t even admit to ourselves. The guy on whose boda you are riding to work will comment about how the ‘westerners’ have ‘eaten all the money’. That guy in Wandegeya who usually does your repair work will tell you that he will not work on Saturday because he is heading to Kayunga ‘to protect his king’. And that heated argument that mechanic is having with that customer is not about an improperly fixed bike. It is really about the customer being from a certain part of the country using his accent to try and intimidate the mechanic. And the mechanic doesn’t want to take crap.

I watched today as crazed youth atop a building under construction threw boulders down at the police. Boulders. I watched as a kiosk was set ablaze. First lifted off its make-shift foundation. Then slowly pushed into the middle of the road. Then no movement for a while, since police was around. Then passers-by casually dropping wood next to the kiosk. And some papers. Then finally, a boda rider ‘contributing’ a bit of his fuel and lighting the fire.

We are, bare-assed, sitting on a furnace. And stocking the fires. The tribalism thing, it has crept into bed, and is slowly caressing us into submission. Waiting for an outlet. A scapegoat. The disgruntlement, the repressed anger…all that is being bottled up in that furnace. And amidst all this, unemployment rises. And news of how even more money has been ‘eaten’ comes to light. More news of how the ‘eaters’ go scot-free is also common place. There’s a natural mystic blowing through the air. These crazy events could be the first trumpet, might as well be the last. Things are not the way they used to be. One and all have to face reality now. Two elephants are doing the tango, and people are being trumpled. People are dying. But the tango goes on. The two have the country hostage. I think a ‘pull-‘em-out-and-measure’ should be organised.

The wound has been stemmed momentarily, the bandaid may work for a while. But that tribalism wound is still there. A small itch and we are back at it again. The prejudices still exist. Deep down. Even in ways we won’t admit to ourselves. One and all have to face reality now.