Kintu

by Jennifer Nansubuga Makumbi

If you must write about Africa, then you write about dictators, ethnography, and war; these are the sorts of stories that confirm what people already “know” about Africa. And if you must write about Uganda, then you place a white character in the middle of the action. You write about Africans who have left Africa and migrated to the United States or Europe. You write about the legacies of colonialism. If you can’t make Europe the hero of the story—and these days, you can’t—then you can at least make Europe the villain. One editor rejected the manuscript because Makumbi didn’t want to change it: to publish it, they would have to change it, and the novel is too good to change.

this is how we grow old: by letting the moon and the sun overtake us.

Kintu felt for Gitta. He knew the snare of being a man. Society heaped such expectations on manhood that in a bid to live up to them some men snapped.

Typical, Kintu thought. Kalema was at the threshold of manhood where the words ‘I am not sure’ did not exist.

“The princess will introduce you to public and royal etiquette—learn with diligence. Do not bring dishonor onto your mothers. Do whatever she asks with a good heart. Be open to new ways. Keep your ears and eyes open. Most of all, guard your tongue: if you must speak say good things only. I

speechless. I try to calm the aunt down: Let’s not be hasty. Let’s talk like grown-ups, but is she listening? I tell you fellow men: never negotiate with a woman. Their sense is not our sense.

“You’ll be fine. If you treat Ntongo well and if you don’t try to be perfect, things will work out in time.”

This won’t work, when he countered with: How can it work when you’ve not given it a chance?

Your Luganda is good,” she said as if it were a compliment. “But there was slight skidding here and there,” she added with a knowing smile.

The Pentecostals had drowned them with their discothèque music, frenzied dancing, and ecstatic prayer.

“Sometimes when we lack something, those who have it seem to flaunt it at us,”

You don’t ask visitors whether they will eat or have tea because you are telling them to say no. It

“That is where I get impatient with tradition. If a man cannot be sure of his sons except by the word of a woman, then a daughter’s children are more reliable. Do you see how tradition shoots itself?”

Paulo felt ashamed. Magda had cared for Ruth through a tough time but his mother had never bothered to return or taken him to visit her. He wondered at Magda: she loved people regardless of whether they loved her back.

“Blood tests bring nothing but certainty. We could not handle certainty. When all you have is a tiny doubt, you hang onto it.”

“Maybe, you should’ve told her about your suspicion,” Kaaya said. “I wouldn’t do that to her. I said to myself, Isaac, unknown troubles don’t keep anyone awake: leave Nnayiga in peace.”

By the late 50s, fathers close to European civilization realized that an educated daughter made for a better pension fund than an educated son. Apparently, sons, after sucking their parents dry, fled the family nest without a backward glance.

Ssemata laughed, “I’ve put food on your plates but you couldn’t pick it up to eat: what makes you think that you will hunt, cook, and feed yourselves?”

“That man is like balding,” Kaleebu said. “Once it arrives it demands more and more space.”

“We cannot blame the West for the way they present Africans in their media: what do you expect? Our savagery is their civilization. It justifies everything. My problem is the Africans who, knowing this, give them the opportunity.

Presently, he bid Kaleebu goodnight and called his wife to say he was leaving. She said that supper was almost ready, the way the Ganda do even though they would be shocked if you accepted the invitation. Miisi said that he would stay for supper another time.

Evolution is perfect at perfecting even mistakes.”

Sounds died somewhere in the nose before articulation.

“We must put back something in the community,” Miisi said quietly. “We could rebuild the kitawuluzi or contribute to their schools.” “There you go now thinking that they need our help,” Bweeza snapped. “That is how people start feeling inadequate. Soon Kiyiika will be begging. As long as they are not starving or sick I suggest we leave them alone.” The car fell silent. 2.

“Bloody borders! African countries are a European imagination.”

a been-to-Europe and is overeducated.