All for the love of a king Thousands race through weekend downpour with no clue what fistula is

Time check is 5:30am and it is Sunday April 6.

I am nestled deep in the warmth of my bed listening to the rain’s music on the iron roof above me. It had only been a few hours since drowsiness had overwhelmed me, the heaviness of my head bringing me down to rest upon the soft mattress.

No sooner had I put my head back down than a thought rushed through my mind like a gushing wind: I was supposed to be running 21 km in the next 90 minutes.

Not from my home, but from Lubiri, Mengo where thousands of people had registered to run to raise money for women suffering from fistula, as a commemoration of the Kabaka’s (king of Buganda Kingdom) 59^th birthday.

A fistula is a tear between the birth passage and the bladder or rectum, caused by obstructed and prolonged labour.  During this time, the soft tissues of the pelvis are compressed between the baby’s head and the mother’s pelvic bones.

The lack of blood flow causes tissue to die, creating a hole between the mother’s vagina and bladder, or between the vagina and rectum, or both, resulting in leakage.

The race’s main sponsor was Airtel together with Buganda kingdom and others.

I swiftly rose from my comfort and drew my coarse green curtains apart. Darkness was lingering in the sky and the downpour seemed to be getting heavier with each passing minute.

I thought, “Was anyone going to risk their lives and run in this rain and cold?” But I answered myself immediately: “Oh yes… Ninsiima. You are joking with the Baganda and their Kabaka. Because of him, they will do anything.”

I fixed a quick breakfast, called my regular boda boda taxi and jolted off to Lubiri at 6:40am.

In the unrelenting rain, I set my feet on the now gullied ground at 7.05am. And lo! A huge crowd was already gathered.

Each runner wore a red t-shirt with the words, ‘Kabaka’s birthday race 2014: Fight against fistula.’ Their sneakers in different colours lit up the soaked grounds. 

Then King Ronald Muwenda Mutebi II pulled into the grounds, wearing a maroon shirt, light brown trousers and a grey coat. He was accompanied by his prime minister, Charles Peter Mayiga who donned a dark blue tracksuit, red t-shirt and black boots.

The Kabaka’s arrival was met with so much noise, the splash of muddy water as excited feet stomped the soaked grounds, cheering and whistling.

Guarded from the rain with a huge umbrella, Mutebi stood in the runners’ path holding a flag.

Although the race which was supposed to have begun at 7am, it was delayed by about 30 minutes, yet none of the runners – going for five, 10 and 21 kilometres – seemed bothered as the rain hammered them. 

To my left, a group of young ladies wiped the rain water from their faces and to my right two children, about 10 and seven years old, pulled their soaked cardigans closer for warmth.

At the rise and fall of the flag in the king’s hands, the runners, like a herd of elephants, took off. 

As I panted along, my eyes caught a glimpse of MPs, John Ken Lukyamuzi, Lulume Bayigga and Joseph Sewungu Gonzaga.

As we whizzed through Nakulabye, I wondered whether all the runners had any idea what fistula was. I asked and the answers were very disappointing.

One lady running proudly along told me: “It is a swelling in the stomach”.

And  another: “It is the remaining parts of a foetus in the uterus after one has had an abortion”, and yet another: “The side effects of a C-Section.” Hmm. Well, at least they were running the marathon having paid Shs 10,000 each; their education could wait another day.

I realised majority of the participants in the race were running just because the Kabaka had asked them to!

My curiosity turned to the men. There was this old man, with grey locked hair, racing along in a white kanzu and chanting: ‘yogaayoga ai ssabassajja! (oh hail the king!)’

I joined him in chorusing the phrase. After establishing rapport, I asked, “By the way, what is fistula?”

And his answer: “Nze ebyo tebinkwatako… tuddukira kabaka waffe (those things do not concern me…we are running for our king.”

Some runners were so committed to their king’s cause, they came up with ‘better’ costumes; one woman ran the race in Buganda’s traditional dress, the busuuti.

At least after unbelievable rounds of wrong answers, one gentleman managed to tell me what a fistula, in its correctness, was.

After advancing through a few familiar places such as Wandegeya and Kampala road, paralysing traffic, I felt excellent. I knew I had run for at least three kilometres. But as we huffed and puffed the rest of the journey away, my legs felt heavy and I felt a stitch in my sides.

I resorted to walking just like many who had started off with vigour. I later spotted musician and dancer, Sarah Short, Uganda Police publicist, Judith Nabakooba, Makindye division boss Dr Ian Clark and the marathon’s chief runner, Mutebi’s younger brother Prince David Kintu Wassajja, who was drenched to the bone.

That man would possibly look fine wearing sack cloth! 

Prince Wasajja (in maroon) runs towards the finishing point

The intensity of the rain made the ground slippery and hard for people to maintain a firm grip against the surface. But two hours later, the winner of the 21km stretch, Gonzaga Ssebuuma made it back to the sodden Lubiri grounds.

Those that had run or walked the five and 10km stretches had arrived earlier and were being sensitized on what fistula was.

My group made it to the grounds at 10:45am, to the sight of vendors, food sellers and bodies moving to the rhythm of local music.

Some of the lyrics gave me the giggles: “I am like Ssemakookiro (Kabaka’s youngest son). I even have ebiwawatiro (wings) and land in miles.’

We then lined up on either side at the finishing point to wait for the chief runner. To keep our spirits alive, we were treated to bouts of comedy from the emcees and more music.

Then behold, the prince in a maroon t-shirt, black shorts and green cardigan looped around his waist run his way into the grounds at exactly 11:10am.

His sneakers and legs spluttered with mud, Prince Wassajja acknowledged the deafening ululation by imitating sprinter Ussain Bolt’s trademark pointing celebration after winning a race. 

That drew even louder cheers.

Then the last runner, Vision Group’s CEO, Robert Kabushenga, showed up about 30 minutes after Wassajja, a bunch of yellow bananas in hand.

Like the bananas, the day’s events ripened with the katikkiro Mayiga urging participants to continue supporting women living with challenges of fistula.

He also reminded them to support Kabaka’s main birthday celebrations on April 13, to be held with students of Gombe Secondary School.

Although it was already a few minutes after midday, the events of the day seemed to have consumed the participants, cloaking them in dance, food and drink.

After all, the rain made the day both chilling and thrilling.