Ugandan Quotes

Sorry,” I said, realizing I was taking my frustrations out on her. “I’m still getting over Soph,” I said, referring to my old prep school friend. Sophie Price was the most beautiful girl you’d ever met. Seriously. Take it from someone who’s met Bar Refaeli in person. Soph was even more stunning. Especially since she’d had a personality makeover. I’d never regret anything as much as I would not making her fall in love with me. “You can’t make anyone fall, Spence. Either they do or they don’t.” “I said that out loud?” “Duh and it’s been two years, Spencer. You seriously need to get over her. She’s with that Ian guy anyway, right?” “Right.” “That hot South African guy named Ian,” she concluded. “Thanks.” “That hot saffy named Ian who gives his life to mutilated Ugandan orphans and worships the ground Sophie walks on.” I stopped and glared at her. “That’ll do, Bridge.

Laura picked up the menu again. “In graduate school I knew a woman from Africa who was just like this doctor, I think she was from Uganda. She was wonderful, and she didn’t get along with the African-American woman in our class at all. She didn’t have all those issues.” “Maybe when the African American’s father was not allowed to vote because he was black, the Ugandan’s father was running for parliament or studying at Oxford,” Ifemelu said. Laura stared at her, made a mocking confused face. “Wait, did I miss something?” “I just think it’s a simplistic comparison to make. You need to understand a bit more history,” Ifemelu said.

Phiona Mutesi is the ultimate underdog. To be African is to be an underdog in the world. To be Ugandan is to be an underdog in Africa. To be from Katwe is to be an underdog in Uganda. To be a girl is to be an underdog in Katwe. When

If Ugandan politicians think that the power that created the cosmos, the galaxies and the black holes becomes terribly upset whenever two Homo sapiens males have a bit of fun together, then science can help disabuse them of this rather bizarre notion.

In Ugandan society a girl who had reached puberty was eligible for a family-arranged marriage. The groom would bring wealth to the bride’s family in the form of cattle, goats, or land. My experience at the hands of Joseph Kony’s murderers and rapists had made a mockery of this custom. I hated the idea, and my father understood.

After Independence, Uganda -- A European artefact -- was still forming as a country rather than a kingdom in the minds of ordinary Gandas. They were lulled by the fact that Kabaka Muteesa II was made president of the new Uganda. Nonetheless most of them felt that 'Uganda' should remain a kingdom for the Ganda under their kabaka so that things would go back to the way things were before the Europeans came. Uganda was a patchwork of fifty or so tribes. The Ganda did not want it. The union of tribes brought no apparent advantage to them apart from a deluge of immigrants from wherever, coming to Kampala to take their land. Meanwhile, the other fifty or so tribes looked on flabbergasted as the British drew borders and told them that they were now Ugandans. Their histories, cultures and identities were overwritten by the mispronounced name of an insufferably haughty tribe propped above them. But to the Ganda, the reality of Uganda as opposed to Buganda only sank in when, after independence, Obote overran the kabakas lubiri with tanks, exiling Muteesa and banning all kingdoms. The desecration of their kingdom by foreigners paralyzed the Ganda for decades.

It is clear that international peacebuilders are not the only, or even the main, figures responsible for the failure of the Congolese peace process. Certain Congolese actors at all levels; certain Rwandan, Ugandan, and Burundian leaders; and the individuals and companies involved in arms trafficking and illegal exploitation of Congolese resources together deserve the largest share of the blame.

Most of the documented cases had two things in common. First, the children possessed the physical ability to speak, but never acquired actual language to any great degree. Secondly, almost all of these former wild children lived out their lives in mental institutions, forgotten and alone. Only two cases, Memmie and a Ugandan boy found living among the monkeys in 1991, ever truly learned to speak and function in society, and Memmie still died penniless and alone, forgotten. She had never been able to tell people what had happened to her in her youth, how she’d ended up in the dark woods

Ugandan understanding of God is somewhat misguided. It is sad how we build the pastor's house while we struggle to even meet our own rent.

Infants who are not touched and interacted with die of a kind of stroke deprivation called “mirasmus.” Marcel Geber, who went on a United Nations commission to study protein deficiency in Ugandan children, found their infants and toddlers to be the most advanced children in the world. It seems that the infants were continually held by the Ugandan mothers. Their bodies were in continuous contact and movement.

Back in 1992, the camp originally held ninety thousand Somali refugees fleeing the civil war. They had reproduced. Then others had come: more waves of Somalis, as well as Sudanese, Congolese, Ethiopians, Ugandans and Rwandans seeking asylum whom the Kenyans had shipped out to the margins of their country. And they too had had children. Three generations now called this giant cosmopolitan city made of mud, tents and thorns, home. That morning, 1 December 2010, Guled was the newest arrival in the largest refugee camp in the world.

I wonder about the gorillas, too. I bet they hate it — feel acute terror and rage — when they wake up covered in something constraining which they cannot possibly understand. Do the game wardens mercifully knock them out again with another tranquilizer dart, and gently remove the disgraceful circus costumes? Or do the gorillas themselves tear the damned weird stuff off their bodies just as soon as they wake? Or do some of them simply wander off, not quite able to cope, like you or me after a bad drunk? In that case, how many tragic gorillas in clown suits might wander the Ugandan jungle this very day?

Former slaves and natives. Eskimos and Hiroshima people, Amazonian Indians and Chiapas Indians and Chilean Indians and American Indians and Indian Indians. Australian aborigines, Guatemalans and Colombians and Brazilians and Argentineans, Nigerians, Burmese, Angolans, Peruvians, Ecuadorians, Bolivians, Afghans, Cambodians, Rwan-dans, Filipinos, Indonesians, Liberians, Borneoans, Papua New Guineans, South Africans, Iraqis, Iranians, Turks, Armenians, Palestinians, French Guyanese, Dutch Guyanese, Surinamese, Sierra Leonese, Malagasys, Senegalese, Maldivians, Sri Lankans, Malaysians, Kenyans, Panamanians, Mexicans, Haitians, Dominicans, Costa Ricans, Congoans, Mauritanians, Marshall Islanders, Tahitians, Gabonese, Beninese, Malians, Jamaicans, Botswanans, Burundians, Sudanese, Eritreans, Uruguayans, Nicaraguans, Ugandans, Ivory Coastians, Zambians, Guinea-Bissauans, Cameroonians, Laotians, Zaireans coming at you screaming colonialism, screaming slavery, screaming mining companies screaming banana companies oil companies screaming CIA spy among the missionaries screaming it was Kissinger who killed their father and why don’t you forgive third-world debt; Lumumba, they shouted, and Allende; on the other side, Pinochet, they said, Mobutu; contaminated milk from Nestle, they said; Agent Orange; dirty dealings by Xerox. World Bank, UN, IMF, everything run by white people. Every day in the papers another thing! Nestle and Xerox were fine upstanding companies, the backbone of the economy, and Kissinger was at least a patriot. The United States was a young country built on the finest principles, and how could it possibly owe so many bills? Enough was enough. Business was business. Your bread might as well be left unbuttered were the butter to be spread so thin. The fittest one wins and gets the butter.

Dirty politicians, corrupt leaders and thieves are sent to the Ugandan parliament and state house by lazy Ugandans who don’t go to vote.

Plenty of Ugandan men believe that women shouldn’t even compete in sports.

For many years Ugandan society was not positive about women in sport because they thought sport is masculine and while top sportswomen might be admired as great athletes, they were not admired as great family people because they were off the expected road,

Uganda’s vehement anti-gay movement began in 2009 after a group of American preachers went to Uganda for an anti-gay conference and then worked with Ugandan legislators to draft a bill that called for putting gay people to death.

The auditors reported a scene of pure chaos. “Drugs were given to the wrong babies, documents were altered, and there was infrequent follow-up, even though one third of the mothers were marked ‘abnormal’ in their charts at discharge. The infants who did receive follow-up care were, in many cases, small and alarmingly underweight. ‘It was thought to be likely that some, perhaps many, of these infants had serious health problems.’”16 When Westat chose a random sample of forty-three of those infants to examine, all of them had “adverse events” twelve months after the study terminated. Only eleven of them were HIV positive.17 When Westat confronted Dr. Jackson’s researchers with study discrepancies, they admitted that they routinely applied more lenient standards for their Black Ugandan subjects than FDA rules required for US safety studies.18 The PIs admitted to systematically downgrading standardized definitions of serious adverse events to adapt to “local standards.” Injuries that researchers would score as “serious” or “deadly” if they happened to white Americans became “minor” injuries when Black Africans were the victims. Under their relaxed rubric, clinical trials staff scored “life-threatening” injuries as “not serious.” When they reported them at all, NIAID classified mortalities among its African volunteers as “serious adverse events,” rather than “death.” NIAID’s Ugandan team had entirely neglected to report thousands of adverse events and at least fourteen deaths.19

I know three African priests—one Ugandan and two Nigerian—who are immensely educated and sophisticated scholars (linguists, philosophers, and historians all) and who are also unshakably convinced that miracles, magic, and spiritual warfare are manifestly real aspects of daily life, of which they themselves have had direct and incontrovertible experience on a number of occasions. All three are, of course, creatures of their cultures, no less than we are of ours; but I am not disposed to believe that their cultures are somehow more primitive or unreasoning than ours. It is true they come from nations that enjoy nothing like our economic and technological advantages; but, since these advantages are as likely to distract us from reality as to grant us any special insight into it, that fact scarcely rises to the level of irrelevance. Truth be told, there is no remotely plausible reason—apart from a preference for our own presuppositions over those of other peoples—why the convictions and experiences of an African polyglot and philosopher, whose pastoral and social labors oblige him to be engaged immediately in the concrete realities of hundreds of lives, should command less rational assent from us than the small, unproven, doctrinaire certitudes of persons who spend their lives in supermarkets and before television screens and immured in the sterile, hallucinatory seclusion of their private studies.

Ugandans were rated as the happiest people in East Africa, according to a recent UN report on happiness. The report concluded that it was not because of their physical circumstances, which were often adverse, but because of their outlook on life, and their appreciation of the little they have. There are many poor people in Uganda who don’t know where the next meal is coming from, but this does not stop them having fun or cracking a joke. Laughter is a big part of the society and, although there is often much to be sorrowful about in the harshness and rawness of life, people will generally see the funny side of things.

Looting and its attendant calamities (arson, rape, torture) become routine operations for the “combatants,” who are soon more akin to vampires than to soldiers. Even the regular armies—and here the parallel with the Thirty Years’ War is inescapable—all use militias to supplement or reinforce their own capacity. After a while there is a kind of “blending” between the so-called regular forces (who in Africa are usually poorly paid and poorly disciplined) and the militias they have recruited as auxiliaries. This blending leads more to the de-professionalization of the regular forces than to the professionalization of the militias. This was a key factor in the grotesque fighting between the Rwandese and Ugandan armies in Kisangani, where the invaders seemed to have lost even the most elementary vision of what they were doing in the Congo and turned to fighting each other like dogs over leftover bones.

In 2014, the Ugandan government passed a law imposing harsh penalties on homosexuals. The law was born out of an internecine power struggle among Ugandan politicians not worth explaining here, but fear of homosexuals remains widespread in the country, where there has been little modern sex education and where the idea of homosexuality evokes historical memories of a mad young king at the dawn of modern times, whose territory swirled with rumors of approaching armies.

Living in Africa, I soon came to realize that impatience may be an entirely Western phenomenon. Ugandans approach time from a fundamentally different perspective, not as a commodity to be spent or wasted, but as an event that unfolds continually, regardless of circumstances.

when critics of Al Gore compare his electricity use to that of the average Ugandan, they are not ultimately highlighting conspicuous and hypocritical personal consumption, however they mean to disparage him. Instead, they are calling attention to the structure of a political and economic order that not only permits the disparity but feeds and profits from it—this is what Thomas Piketty calls the “apparatus of justification.” And it justifies quite a lot. If the world’s most conspicuous emitters, the top 10 percent, reduced their emissions to only the E.U. average, total global emissions would fall by 35 percent. We won’t get there through the dietary choices of individuals, but through policy changes. In an age of personal politics, hypocrisy can look like a cardinal sin; but it can also articulate a public aspiration. Eating organic is nice, in other words, but if your goal is to save the climate your vote is much more important. Politics is a moral multiplier. And a perception of worldly sickness uncomplemented by political commitment gives us only “wellness.

An uplifting story of a middle-aged woman overcoming fear and self-doubts to find adventure, love, and family. Forced into early retirement, Bennett Hall plans for a quiet, orderly, and anonymous existence. No longer will she be burdened by her dependent but unlovable aunt, or her own misperceived rejections. Unexpected encounters and a new job crack open her social isolation. The arrival of Joe Muir, an attractive widower, and his two adopted Ugandan children, awaken Bennett’s long-ignored desires--and self-doubts. Inspired to win Joe’s love she flies to Uganda in search of the children’s missing sister. To overcome the dangers and challenges she confronts, she must find the courage she has always lacked.