#newvision Archives - Uganda Christian University Partners

Madonna waiting for her dad to come home from work

By Constantine Odongo
Emmanuella Madonna is three years old. Every weekday, after taking her after-school nap, the kindergarten pupil engages her friends in the neighbourhood in games, such as dodge ball and hide-and-seek.

That was before mid-March 2020 and COVID-19.

On March 18, she got an abrupt, indefinite school holiday after the Ugandan government announced a closure of schools and a ban on work, unless it was an essential service. The ban was to enforce the health guideline of social distancing and staying home to combat the spread of the novel coronavirus, which has become a pandemic. Madonna now spends more time with her mother at home and keeps wondering why I, her father, cannot stay home with them.

As an employee of Uganda’s New Vision newspaper (i.e. news jobs are considered essential), it means I’m gone much of the day and conceivably more exposed to the potentially deadly virus.

Madonna doesn’t get that. She doesn’t understand why I can’t hug her the minute I get home between 6:45 and 7 p.m.

Uganda President Yoweri Museveni on March 30, 2020, announced a two-week stay-home order and capped it with a 11.5-hour curfew from 7 p.m. to 6:30 a.m. The order and the curfew were then extended by another three weeks.

Since, most times, the normal working hours at my office are not enough for me to accomplish my tasks, I often work up to the 11th hour. My workplace, being a media house, is open 24 hours. But, nowadays, the newsroom is almost empty, save for security personnel, especially past 6 p.m. People abandon office early, in order to get home and beat the curfew time of 7 p.m.

It usually takes me up to 25 minutes to cover the 14km (8.5 miles) distance from my office located in the capital of Uganda, Kampala, to home in Kawempe, a city suburb. I spend close to half of that time at roadblocks, trying to explain to security why my media movement permit sticker is on the dashboard and not on the car screen. Some motorists had lost their outside car stickers to thieves, who would pluck them off cars and sell them in the black market in Kampala, sometimes as high as one million shillings (about $280).

As I arrive home after work and oftentimes after the routine security interrogation, I see Madonna run to arms she can’t yet embrace – until I am cleansed of possible contamination to her and others in my family. I watch a fight brewing between Madonna and her nanny, who is seven times her age, but understands her job to keep a daughter from her dad in the world of COVID fear. I always ensure I bathe as soon as I arrive home, before getting into contact with anything or anyone, so that I do not become a conduit for the coronavirus.

Every morning, if Madonnna wakes up before I set off for work, she tries her luck in convincing me not to go to work that day. When President Museveni banned public and private cars from the roads on March 30, I carried my computer home and set up myself to work there. However, an unstable Internet network, an unfavorable work station and distractions by children hindered my ability to work.

Madonna’s sibling, Morgan, will be making one year on May 5. Throughout the day, I arbitrated disputes between her and Morgan. April 1 was day two of my full operation from home. We were both at our workstations, Madonna’s about two metres (6 feet) away from mine. When I stepped away from the room to receive a phone call, Madonna removed a keyboard key.

Madonna’s grandmother, a lady she was named after, lives and teaches in a primary school in Tororo district, located 220 kilometers (136.5 miles), east of Kampala. One-and-a-half weeks before the lockdown, schools were closed. Initially, teachers saw joy in the holiday. But it was short lived as they experienced more than one negative aspect of the lockdown.

The weekend after schools had been closed, as one example, Madonna’s grandmother attended a funeral in Tororo, without knowing that she and some friends were going against the guidelines of the Ministry of Health – that only close family members bury the dead due to social distancing. There were water points for the mourners to wash their hands before getting to the funeral, but not many even understood why the water and soap had been provided.

Such stories justify why the Government enlisted the services of the security forces to enforce the observance of the lockdown guidelines. I remind myself of this each time I am stopped. Life as we know it has changed for Madonna and me. With God’s guidance and understanding, we will appreciate the fruits of the difference and get through it.

(Constantine Odongo is a deputy chief sub-editor for New Vision. He received an MA degree in Journalism and Media Studies from Uganda Christian University.)

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Journalists Paddy Nsobya of Bukedde newspaper, Samuel Sanya of New Vision and John Semakula of The Standard newspaper of Uganda Christian University in an April 20 meeting to strategize for the post COVID-19 period in Mukono District, Uganda. (Courtesy photo from Samuel Sanya)

By John Semakula

When governments in Europe and the United States came up with altruistic measures to help their citizens during the Coronavirus lockdown, in Uganda, we were left to fend for ourselves.

Despite the fact that the majority of Ugandans live hand to mouth and expected help from government during the lockdown, a selected few received food items. Many communities, including mine, were forced to mobilise ourselves to help the most vulnerable like the elderly, the poor and children in child-headed families. This experience has reshaped my personality and worldview.

For a video showing food distribution in Uganda, click here

Before the lockdown, I did not care much about community. If I had food on my table, I was mindless about the needy in the community; someone always did that job anyway.

John Semakula of The Standard newspaper of Uganda Christian University

However, the lockdown has molded me into a better person. I have learned to share with others and be keen about what goes on in my community. When the government of Uganda declared a partial lockdown due to the coronavirus pandemic on March 17, I plunged into thoughts about how my family would go through it. I stay with seven relatives in Mukono town, central Uganda.

Although I am a salaried employee at Uganda Christian University, the lockdown was abrupt and yet the situation required that I should help close family members whose incomes were affected by the pandemic and the subsequent lockdown. Some of them operated casual businesses that had to close.

However, as I was still lost in thought, wondering what to do, I received a call from my father in the village offering us food from his garden. This has turned out to be our lifeline. Whenever we run out of food, I send a motorist to collect from my dad.

This kindness from my father has helped not only my siblings and me but also some of my neighbors. My siblings and I had to share the little we get from dad and the meager monetary resources I had saved up before the lockdown. My father has taught me an invaluable lesson in adulthood and I had to reciprocate his kindness.

I have also seen hundreds of other Ugandans donate food, cash and other critical items to the coronavirus national taskforce that was set up by the government to receive financial and food aid from members of the public for distribution to the most vulnerable. This was uncommon before the outbreak of the pandemic. I have discovered that Ugandans are a good people and that if we had been helping one another before, we would have been a better society.

I have also had to help several of my neighbors who need small cash handouts to feed and support their families in other ways during the lockdown.

On Tuesday April 14, a father of six including a pair of twins came to me at 8 p.m. to ask for a loan of $6. He said, “…if you do not help me out today, my family will go without food for the next three days…” I was forced to surrender part of my week’s small budget to him.

Within less than a week, on April 19, another neighbor, who had a patient at a nearby hospital, also asked me for a favor of sh40, 000 ($12) to transfer him for specialised treatment to another facility. I gave it to him out of sympathy. Before the Coronavirus pandemic, he worked in Kame Valley Market in Mukono town and like other traders, the lockdown has rendered him helpless.

Although markets are allowed to operate, only those trading in food items are allowed to work, the rest of traders like my neighbor, have to close. That is how my life has changed during the lockdown. But I thank God who has been merciful to my family because we are still alive when thousands of others around the world have succumbed to the pandemic.

Meanwhile, since the University where I work shut down on March 17, I have been operating from home, preparing for the reopening and the next semester. I am also going through students’ research proposals and internship reports. In addition, I am taking this time to come up with and bounce off different COVID-19 related research ideas with colleagues; hopefully we will have a research paper at the end of the year.

I see light at the end of the tunnel.

But the Coronavirus pandemic and the lockdown have taught me a lot of lessons in life that will remain fresh on my memory until death. I have never seen people the world-over suffer and die at this rate. I also have learned that in Africa we survive by the mercy of God. I will continue to exalt Him as the most supreme.

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John Semakula is the supervisor of The Standard newspaper under the Faculty of Journalism, Media and Communication at Uganda Christian University (UCU). He is a UCU graduate of Bachelor of Arts in Mass Communication and Masters of Arts in Journalism and Media Studies.

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‘I can’t hug her the minute I get home’

Coronavirus pandemic has reshaped me into a better person