THE GATEKEEPER

Kampala has all kinds of jobs. From the cobbler to the bank teller, from the teacher to the surgeon. The streets of Kampala are full of people seeking to either make their mark or earn their dime. However, none of these jobs is ‘arguably’ as fulfilling and yet as frightening as that of the gatekeeper. Often times, these officers (normally they are men) are feared more than the traffic cops. They will toss you up and down and seem to relish when you are squirming in panic and urgency (especially when you have an appointment). Let me explain

Scenario One

Venue: The Court

You are rushing to the court room. The trial judge is known to be a stickler for time. He is the kind who will dismiss the case or adjourn it sine die if you are not in the courtroom in (not ‘on’) time.  When you have finally negotiated through the traffic, you reach the court room and the bored looking gateman slides like a snail to your car door. He might take your temperature or squirt a few droplets of alcohol sanitizer into your hand before whispering behind a fading GOU mask – Where are you going Sebbo? He grunts. ‘To the Courtroom of course !’ your mind screams. However, you know that you have to keep your cool if you are to be let in. ‘Afande, I am appearing before Justice ….’ You say this with a smile which cannot be seen behind your mask. ‘There is no parking’ the guard mutters.  ‘Afande, the judge will dismiss my case, if I am not in by 9am,’ you plead as you desperately look at your watch. Then the negotiations begin

 

Scenario Two

Venue: A commercial building in the radius of the Parliament

 

You drive to the gate and wait. The tall lanky angry looking guard literally growls at your vehicle. He has been disturbed from his lunch. You ignore looking at his face as he tries to mouth those horrible words – ‘there is no parking space.’ He walks to your car and there is an exchange of words. ‘I am not going to park Sir. I am here to pick up Ms. ….’ you plead. He bellows that there is no parking and that you should look for parking elsewhere. All your negotiations seem to hit a rock and fly back at you. The gate-man is so angry with you for even questioning his authority. You recall what happened at a nearby shopping mall where a gate-man shot a customer dead. You opt to keep quiet and call the passenger you have come to pick-up. After a few minutes, the passenger strolls down the stairs to the gate keeper. He is now seated on a worn-out stool inside the shed. They exchange a few hot words. He then rises up, gives you a bad stare –the kind that can easily pluck out your heart, and then opens the gate for you. As you drive in, you thank him. The battle might be won but the war is still on.