Andrew the story teller (they call him the ‘Wandera’) & Alexis’ Corner (Part 2)…..
November 27, 2010

Last week all teachers, supposedly, were involved in the first week of a nationwide four-week training programme in English.

I spent the early part of the week assisting Andrew, course trainer at Nyabitare School. He is a well qualified Ugandan with a BA and Masters in English Language and Literature. He is hoping to be sponsored to study for a PhD in the States next year, possibly at Harvard.

His family home is on the Ugandan border with Kenya although he teaches at a secondary boarding school and lectures at the university in the capital city of Kampala.

Like so many people I have met he has a whole series of interesting anecdotes to share. Part of his name is ‘Wandera’ which apparently refers to the umbilical cord being wrapped around his neck.  He pointed out that many Ugandans are named after the circumstances of their birth.

Andrew is a young man with a passion for literature, a thirst for knowledge and a desire to better himself through hard work. Interestingly, one of the books his students have been studying  with him is ‘The Last King of Scotland’. We talked about the film version and Forest Whitaker’s portrayal of ‘Idi’ which he thought was very good although he maintains the storyline was over embellished!  

He is another devout Christian who for some time was destined for the priesthood. He is committed to supporting his family and as early as ten years old he contributed to the ‘pot’ by smuggling goods across the border from Uganda into Kenya. On one occasion in the dark of night he was pursued and tripped over, catching himself on a wire which cut his chest open.

He still carries the scars along with other more recent additions following a recent near fatal car crash in Kampala, when his ‘automatic’ failed to respond and he rolled it over, and also after falling from the back of a ‘moto’ when the road ahead dramatically subsided following a rainstorm. I told him he’s not the sort of guy I would like to have as a fellow passenger on an air flight!        

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On Thursday the District Office asked me to go out to the more distant Mpanga Sector to report the training at Kankobwa School. This was actually a timely break from the tedium that was beginning to settle in after three days of ‘head, shoulders, knees and toes’, and the like, at  Nyabitare School.

It’s some time since I last rode pillion to Alex. He greeted me with his usual broad grin and a slap on the back. It was then that I made the mistake of asking how long it would take to our destination. ‘Forty minutes’, was the prompt response and we set off in a cloud of dust, at a rate of knots.

It’s funny how you get used to your ‘moto’ driver. Recently I’ve been with Daniel who I have to say drives in a relatively sedate fashion, carefully picking his lines and avoiding too many bumps along the way.

Although I feel perfectly safe with both, Alex is more of a speed merchant and goes for the roller coaster approach! Ten minutes in, he looked over his shoulder and pointed into the distance informing me that, ‘Kankobwa is at the top of that mountain’. Technically it might not have been a mountain but it was a hell of a steep, near vertical,  ascent.

Once on the top we made up for lost time. As we glided to a halt in the school playground and I dismounted in rather shaky fashion, Alex was grinning again and proudly pointing to his watch while announcing, ‘Forty minutes!’

On the return journey we unexpectedly drew to a halt outside Alex’s home. I had been an honoured guest some weeks ago and I hadn’t anticipated another invitation.

‘Welcome to my home,’ he announced, grabbing my backpack and crash helmet, before leading me down the slope, where a piping hot pan of rice with fish sauce was waiting on the table. I was provided with a bottle of Primus and Alex drank Fanta Coca, informing me that now he has a wife and children he no longer drinks beer.

We talked a little more about his fourteen years in the RPF, under Paul Kagame, where he made his way up from boy soldier to the rank of sergeant. After, he took me to meet the extended family, mother, father and sister-in-law, and to check up on his cows. According to his graphic mime the mother is yielding copious amounts of milk.

Alex proudly announced he is now the head of a five cow family, three at home and two grazing up in the hills.  He led me across to a small rondawel with thatched roof, home to his latest arrival a still small black calf. ‘It is a girl,’ he told me with another huge grin.     

With that we were back on the road for the final part of an eventful and memorable journey.         

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