By Markson Omagor
(Writer)
A second cold day, the previous being equally rainy and cold. For the first time since I entered Murchison Bay Prison, I bathed once during early afternoon but still slept well. I had been reading a Novel titled The ‘Hornet Flight’ by Ken Follet the entire day. The inconvenience of being locked indoors because of rain therefore had little impact on me.
Saturday was a day full of expectancy hangover. I had called my wife and fiancée starting with the wife as culture. Her phone luckily rang, but it rang for too long. She did not pick so I did not talk to her. I was disappointed, knowledge of my children’s welfare scored a blank and for that reason i hanged over the day next. I then called Sarah, my fiancee who luckily picked her call. She told me she was fine and Arthur, my son, was fine too. I wished her a happy celebration of her graduation and requested her to visit me, the month next. She promised to come.
That Friday too, our very own Zubaberi Okongo (Mubiru, actual name) was expelled from our Ward after receiving a good beating from Ward members.
Okongo had broken one of the cardinal rules of the Ward when he walked on the corridor with his shoes on.
Katikiro admonished him but Zubaberi who was ‘Mukowu’ (tired of the world) replied the Katikkiro very rudely prompting the latter to smack him on the face. He lost his cool.
“Am going to beat you.” He threatened.
“Beat who?” Sneered the Katikiro.
“Say Ngwang.” Threatened our Zubaberi.
“Ngwang.” Risked the Katikiro.
“……Say Ngwang.”
“…..Ngwang…”
And that was it. In a split of a second, Katikiro was down fighting for both his life and repute. Zubaberi was on top of the Ward Leader raining bows upon blows on the now hapless Katikiro.
“….How can you allow this madman beat our Katikiro ………” shouted one of the inmates.”
“Let’s beat him,” another inmate suggested. And as if in total agreement, about five people descended on Mubira, slapping, kicking, and twisting his legs, arms and ears. In a few minutes, Mubiru’s right eye was swollen and he was accepting defeat.
Needless to say by the time the separation was effected, scores of R.Ps were already around. Our man’s fate had been sealed. Did I feel sad for him? Yes I did for him and myself. He had been a constant source of fun.
Sunday the 19th of February was even colder. We were kept indoors most of the time. I finished with the earlier Novel and embarked on another. “Come back” by Dick Francis. By the evening and last lock up, I had not yet bathed and my body was not complaining.
The cleaning this Sunday was done by Kitintale Section but not without controversy. R.P Ward had announced early morning that this Sunday was a general ward cleaning. This meant carrying our beds out but it had rained and we were sure the outside was wet and muddy. Katikiro did not think so, he insisted we carry out our ‘Beds’, the ward chorused a rebellion. He was out numbered and out fixed so the cleaning was done but not general.
Mustering the art of eating prison beans.
For the three weeks I ate these beans, it was not uncommon for me to crack hard on stones. You can imagine a combination of forced appetite, brown and burnt posho and beans accompanied by black bean sized stones!
But this 19th Sunday of February I got the art right. It involved scooping beans into ones mouth and then doing a double check using the tongue and teeth before chewing i.e. after establishing that in that scoop there is no stone. I did it expertly well for super and managed to spit out about seven of such stones.
This Sunday, there was no musical celebration of a passing of another week. The Karaoke stars were unwilling because the last Sunday, try hard as they did, there was no applause from the audience. They lost morale. We were resigned to listening to music coming from B Block, a block for remands who even included drumming.
