This Uganda has great traditions that have refused to be spoilt by its 60 years of corrupt and violent politics. It is anchored by, a sadly, dwindling cohort of grand gentlemen and ladies, some of them wonderfully eccentric.
I wrote here a while back, the story of one of them, who had a good line of Bullmastiff dogs. My veterinary doctor, the late Prof Johnson Acon (bless his soul) at Makerere University, used to help me collect the finest dogs. He tipped me of this gentleman, and that he asked him to sell me a puppy. The good gentleman insisted that he had to interview me first, to ensure I had the ubuntu to raise his dog right.
I made my way to his home. We sat on the balcony and his wife served tea and scones, as they do in historical dramas like “The Crown”.
Very ornate teapot, cups, and spoons. He kept a watchful eye to see if I knew my etiquette, as we talked dogs, books, and international affairs. He also asked about my parents, and if they were good Christians.
I passed the test. He was pleased. He gave me a puppy. He declined to take money for it. Whenever he came to Nairobi, he called and he would have a fine dinner.
Another one, a proud grand man from a far corner of western Uganda who was a good friend, called me one day to meet over a solemn issue. When I presented myself before him, he told me he was revising his will and adding details on how he wanted his funeral conducted. He wanted me to read a poem…
