It is what I call myself that matters

It was a slope, straight into the heart of the averagely populated town basking with the steam of sweat and pants of breath under the hot sun.

No steep humps but few potholes to be afraid of as he rolled into the busy town. His dream was to be someone important and of relevance and so he adopted a code of conduct and dressing which predisposed him to smartness. Always jolly and amiable as he confidently and comfortably took his poise with a resolve to make the most of his day; Good morning! Good afternoon! Good evening!’ he retorts as he does the African thing, or rather the Ugandan thing, greeting everyone who cares to hear and in turn greet him.

Looking at him from afar, many people’s attention would be skewed to his wheelchair which effortlessly, gently and yet surely snakes its way across the road almost surmounting any barrier. This was not just a wheelchair, it was a part of him; his legs.

Off a corner, a man gasps in a loud whisper to another at a side gaze of him as though one who cannot govern the pressure of his presumptive exclamation, ‘that mulema is very rich!’ as they keep tweeting, watching wheel chair forge its way on! He smiled to himself pretending not to have heard and rode on!

Following almost aimlessly as he gazes in admiration, a young boy drawn by his childish curiosity, fascinated and so absorbed by the three legged miraculous machine and after a kilometer, he shouted disrespectfully, ‘how are you mulema?’ and then run away.

Almost in a split second, shouted another man, ‘ombere, ikini mivini tayi su indi ‘diniya? (Lame man! You also want to put on neck ties?) The local intonation and context suggesting he was not a real person deserving to do so. It cut him to his heart! He could not hold it. Tears mingled with anger, pain, regret, despair and anguish, fell from his eyes. All alone, dejected and unwanted he felt.

They always called him ombere; they never knew his real name and didn’t even care or want to. They knew him for his looks and what he seemed not to have.

But he smiled again and mattered, ‘it is not what they call me, it is what I call myself that matters’ So he let go the pain and in a sigh as though of relief, lifted up his face like he remembered something significant; he said it loud and smiled away to his real name.