Outside the prestigious ivory tower, a candidate’s hired public address system blares, a few placards litter the main building space, a few souls dot the main building balcony. Inside the main building a projector casts blurred images upon a vast white tarpaulin; projected are tweets from students who are ardent tweeps.
Upon the raised stage, individuals dressed to the nines, sit on red chairs, an aura of mild tension and sombre deliberation hovers. Occasionally a candidate stands at the wooden lectern bends in and speaks a few words into the tiny microphone in response to questions posed by judges.
The supposedly large Makerere mainhall is filled from floor to roof, the three entrances are blocked by throngs of crowds. Upfront, real business is in progress; it’s guild presidential debate day. Adjudicating and moderating are two law students; Namwanja Kizito LLB2, Donald Massa LLB4; betwixt them is a lady, a second year journalism student; Sandra Kakunda. “The debate is the thing.” was this year’s hashtag. In the “backyard” the backbenchers yell, growl, groan, screech, ululate and scream. Different individuals donning black tees shove, pull and push all and sundry.
It’s chaotic down here. Obscenities, jokes and vulgarities rule supreme. Halfway through the corridor, a snake of people queues. When Mwotta rises a chunk of the audience arises. The noise overwhelms the words. It’s hard to disintegrate the chaotic blend.
KasoziIsamail, Rasta-man takes over with his trademark gun shot signal. Real deliberation kicks off at 9pm instead of 7pm. “These university speakers are riddled with bedbugs and roaches!” screams a student amidst laughter. “Our money, our money!” sporadic calls ring throughout the back wing. The upper section has surprisingly good coverage. Their speakers apparently don’t house “bedbugs and roaches.”
Nasala Brian, he speaks of reviving the glorious days of Muk.
Umar Nsubuga the FDC candidate bases his candidacy on the ails within Makerere, with emphasis on the “sick university” hospital.
Roy Ssemboga rises and the hall breaks into song, boos soon overwhelm the pro- Roy chants. He speaks of the importance of security.
He is tasked by the judges to explain the death of a student at his hall of residence while he was a leader there. He blames the Makerere university staff for what he calls; “laxity and incompetence.” Simon speaks in his characteristic elitist way. He’s accused of unwavering disloyalty by the judges. For his abandonment of political camps. He sways the hall, something about Simon silences the hall while he speaks. The rebuttals come next. The hall is nearly quiet at this point.
It’s clear, the outstanding debators are Simon, Roy and Mwotta to whom questions are endlessly raised. A small group endlessly chants. “Ffe tukooye, tukooye, we are tired, we are tired! End the debate.”
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