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By Nalubega Victoria
What does it mean to love your country while questioning what happens within it?
In Belonging, Ugandan poet Nalubega Victoria reflects on life in Uganda. She writes about leadership, corruption, inequality and justice. She also explores the struggles faced by ordinary people.
The poem uses satire and irony to challenge the reader. Yet its message is not simply one of criticism. At its heart is a strong sense of identity and belonging.
Despite everything, Uganda remains home.
I am a Ugandan.
I am a… poetic musician.
I deeply love… my country.
And sincerely say I do
To its consistent instabilities.
I am a… Ugandan.
Its insecurities mean
Heaven to my legs.
I am a… Ugandan.
Its diplomacy grows too slowly,
Like a mahogany tree
Amid the crisis in Congo.
Our justice is fair
Like the lion’s leadership.
It goes against its subjects
And devours them.
I am a… Ugandan.
Our politicians are so caring,
Like active volcanoes.
Their concern towards
Their subjects’ problems irritates.
The politicians’ mercy
Destroys the poor.
Their property is left shattered
In the guise of protecting the city.
The weak have no justice.
Their only justice is served
Through swift arrest.
Uganda is my home address.
Leaders are so selfless
That they sweep away
People’s businesses
Without any glimpse
Of expected compensation.
Leaders are… too good.
They really love their voters
During elections.
They buy them household necessities—
Salt, soap,
Pay their bills,
Among others.
After elections,
They become enemies.
They implement laws
Without considering
The people’s social and financial conditions
Or their positions in life.
The Pearl of Africa
Is where I belong,
Where streams of corruption
Flow from the mountain
Of greedy leaders
With big posts.
From the branches
Of disguised development,
The homeless poor fellow
Seeks asylum.
I am a Ugandan,
Where the trees of hope
Are planted,
And at harvest time
We reap bitter fruits.
From the breasts
Of our motherland,
We suckle rusted milk.
In her courtroom,
She has banaana nebyanna.
In her chambers,
The opinions and suggestions
Of the less privileged
Are dumped in the rubbish can.
Though some are given
A one-eyed regard,
In actual sense,
They’re left hanging
Like a banana fibre
Swinging on a branch
Of a coffee plant.
That’s my lovely country, Uganda,
Where rules are supposed
To be forcefully obeyed.
— Nalubega Victoria
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