By Nsubuga Aldrine

By 6:15 am, I was there. Oblivious to the unceasing rain that drenched me to the skin, I made sure I was in time for the flag off. A sea of red blanketed Kabaka Anjagala Road as thousands of Kabaka Ronald Muwenda Mutebi II’s subjects jogged, danced and sang love songs to him. Young and old, they were trecking in and out of Lubiri palace, waiting for the flag off. No one cared about the relentless downpour. The site of two old women, perhaps in their 80s, sitting at the main entrance waving Kabaka flags with two little grand children sandwitched in between melted my heart. By 7:00 am, it had turned into a mammoth crowd dancing in the rain.

Inside Lubiri, the boisterous atmosphere had turned into a carnival. The scene was draped in royalty. Tens of thousands of runners ululated, danced and cheered knowing that His Majesty was seated among them. Many threw themselves on the wet ground in reverence. When the Kabaka rose to flag off the run, the crowd cheered raucuosly and heeded. The relentless downpour was helpless to stop them. In minutes, the neighbourhood of Lubiri, Mengo, Nakulabye, Kasubi, Makerere was overwhelmed by the red sea. I was running, at times walking hurriedly but never once stopped to take a breather. My adrenalin wouldn’t let me. As a Nsubuga, this was important to me. The symbolism. My Kabaka is now 70 years and am lucky to be around to witness the landmark.

In Kasubi, hundreds of youth joined the runners with drums, trumpets and jerricans. They wanted anything that could make noise. At Sir Apollo Kaggwa rd in Makerere, army men stood atop 3 trucks shaking their heads and the red crowd threw some burbs “bow to the king” they shouted. In Rubaga, a useless boda rider ignored police directives to stop and the runners pounced on him. Meanwhile, at least 30 ‘white’ runners joined in the chants of kabaka, two of them carrying babies. On Rubaga rd, it turned into a frenzied atmosphere as runners caught site of the end of the 10 or 21 km run depending.

At the turn off on Namirembe Rd, I almost gave up but my will was stronger. This was about the Kababa not me. His sacrifice. 20 minutes later I was punching the air after making it finally to the finish, the rain still unrelenting. I felt sweet, almost victorius. It’s as though I was fighting something and had won – yes! In completing my run, I had beaten the Kabaka enemies. Those who think that the Kabaka love is conditioned.

We his subjects were born to love him and grow up being taught how to love him. Kingship is a godly thing. The King of Kings sits in heaven. And so in turn we do the same to our children and grand children – teach them how to love our king. It’s godly. No one can it take away. The harder it rained, the more we loved doing this for him. The more they hate, the more we love him. It’s the idea. His pain, our pain. His joy, our joy. It was a victory over 10 rainy kilometers but inside me, it was a spiritual victory. The Kabaka has people who were born to love him. That’s all he needs, us, his subjects. A punch in their face.

Buganda is not a physical boundary defined by campuses, lines or geography. People don’t sit in secret places to decide what Buganda is or isn’t. It’s we the people. It’s who we are. The Kabaka is at the center. The symbol of our identity. What it means to us is passed over from generation to generation. You can’t touch it but can only feel it. The reality is intangible. It’s why I had to run this rainy race. It was for the Kabaka, for my children and grand children – omuzilo Mmamba. I was there. I will always be there for my Kabaka.

Happy Birthday Kabaka Ronald Muwenda Mutebi II.

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