Date 24th January 2021
Whether saddened or privileged by the prevailing political atmosphere, I come in yet again to expound on the bridge in Urban Planning in the republic of Uganda. Am not here to predict victory to which ever group I prefer but rather to put up a ‘statement’ for the benefit of future cities. It was last week that I stood to challenge a group of Professional Physical Planners and Commissioners in the Urban Development arena in regard to the less innovations amongst prevailing representatives at all levels of Urban and Regional Planning, an idea that many declined. Not being an extremist in anyway, I continue to stand for the common interests of delivering the public good. I dedicate this piece to fellow Physical Planners arguing them to start writing their legacies than walking the misinforming yaks in this contemporary era.
Though not fully immersed in the political game, I gave myself a task to move around the ‘Capital’ to observe the nature in which the voting exercise was carried out by pointing out the inequalities from an Urban Planning point of view. The very few but essential facts that many of us don’t consider while carrying out planning, designing, decision making and policy formulation. During the drive, vigorous observations were established to make meaningful judgements but hitherto my heart bits unceasingly low when I fathom the continued contempt of urban planning as a multi-dimensional profession that affects urban development in numerous traditions. This is not about the Engineers, Land Managers, Economists and Architects but rather a shortfall asserted within my ‘line of work’ by upper authorities including Ministries, local governments, private sector and Urban Planners’ self-articulation. Indeed, we have gone off the norms of Ebenezer Howard’s “garden city”, we have continued to contempt the ideas of Jane Jacobs’ “street and city spaces”. Which history are we writing?
It begun as any other day heedful but unusual with closed urban arcades, shopping malls and markets; security personales roaming around every corner of the ‘National Capital’ to ensure maximum citizen protection. The usually ‘day-active’ streets of Kampala City like Luwum, Ben Kiwanuka, William and the historical Kikuubo lane were painted dark with no traces of human living only comparable to the great Namibi desert. We were welcomed to the longingly awaited voting day where hundreds of urban dwellers stayed in the suburb to cast their votes and others claimed anticipated phobia of the aftermath of the election period. Chanting voices of innocent citizens living in the city peripheral still cling in my medulla and whose name was cheered is a story for another day. It must have been their candidature choices. Many people walked languorously towards their polling stations though a few hastened due to fear of the longevity of cues. The polling grounds were located in distant places from residences which made it a little stiff for all citizens to reach on time and with a lot of unease.
On reaching the polling site, I stopped at the entry and withdrew my hand from the fore pockets of my trousers only to find my voters’ location slip and national Identity card, I must have been prepared to cast my vote. Campaign Photographs for different aspirants had been turned out to face the roadside where every voter passed. The place was filled with electro commission officials, contestants’ agents and a large number of voters. My heart remained cool for the rest of time not until I observed that ‘trespass’ was the order of the day since youth’s never adhered to making straight cues. It had taken 2hours when our cue could not move, people entered it from all directions as if there were no security officers to maintain order. Furthermore, to my dismay, the place become so hot since it was shinning all over. Our cue was aligned directed to the scorching sunlight and there hardly existed any form of shade in the open ground, it begun to feel a little unease for most of us. Even when you felt like resting, you could hardly find a sitting facility. Only the polling officials and agents had plastic chairs to rest their tired bodies. I still vividly remember a group of three old men who I plumb could have been between 80 to 85 years of age and their grandson who left the polling site before casting their vote due to the lack of sitting/resting facilities and yet the sun rays reflected so high. In their expression, it seemed like they had moved a longer distance to access the polling ground.
Putting my setting aside, I knew I needed information regarding other places ridiculously overwhelmed with numbers of voters. I turned to google, as I always do for all my research needs, and looked for the places with the highest number of registered voters. It was disturbing to realize that Internet had been completely switched off. It was a time of no regrets, I turned on my car TV to watch news at noon, most polling stations in Kawempe, Masaka city, Jinja and elsewhere were stunned with numbers. It looked as if there was a political mission to accomplish. Nature cried out loud as my inclination could tell the amount of force that was put on prevailing public spaces especially village plazas, pitches, open grounds, and others. Clusters of supporters had submerged into different polling stations which had no facilities to handle such capacities. The prevailing greenery was destroyed, rubbish was thrown all over, toilet facilities could not be seen and one wondered where at least officials helped themselves. People spent the whole day with empty stomachs, not because they had no money, but because many areas had no restaurants and hotels.
It is of no complete hesitation that a large number of villages across the country lack gazetted public spaces to host different communal activities which therefore fancied presiding officers to opt for private individual’s compounds, roadsides, abandoned housing facilities and inaccessible places to organize the polling exercise, hence leaving room for a state of doubt in the results all across. For instance, in Kayunga town, a contestant’s home was used as a polling station and upon counting, the number of votes exceeded that of voters. Here residents claim that he used advantage of the fact that activities were carried out in his compound and therefore he rigged. The whole process felt frightening when residents in one of the villages in Wakiso blocked traffic flow due to the long cues that were made across the road.
Additionally, even to those that seemed to have organized public spaces, they were not equally distributed amongst communities and hence people moved longer distances to cast their votes. This could in one way or the other be a pretext for many not to involve in the former election. While urban planners distribute space for various land uses, there is a need to consider proximity and equity among residents, the presence of vulnerable groups and unexpected circumstances. The election story is fascinating, and a many fictional readers and members of the urban world will quickly become intrinsic to my story.
The open ground where I casted my vote from belonged to Mr. Kyaze, contestant who lost; I don’t know whether he will allow the residents to continue with using the space but that would be an understatement not to appreciate his endeavor to provide for his community. I took the largest part of the day observing all the cuddles that surrounded Kampala. Later in the day, when the voting was finalized, vote counting commenced as it approached nightfall. The night was a special kind of blackness, the kind that wants only to hold the stars and help them to shine all the brighter. It was a warm black that hugged you no matter what, and within its safety I could feel my own soul all the more clearly, that innocent inborn spark silently. Everyone waited softly for results to be pronounced. Presiding officers became busy ‘here and there’ as soldiers came closer to polling stations to secure officers, votes, and also to ensure peaceful counting.
At nightfall the city became completely empty, it looked strange too with maximum silence of the wilderness, all places including the roadsides and the public spaces where vote counting was staged were filled with darkness. I started to question my safety, our public spaces including the streets and open spaces are not naturally lighted, while some are locked in built up places with numerous obstacles like skyscrapers and large ancient trees, others are not open to the sky. Corridors also became a center of nightmares as streets turned into vandalism scenes. In the suburb where we felt safe before, places became frightening during the darkness. Presiding officers pulled out small touches and smartphones to those that had chance to access them so as to light up the places to continue with the process.
Generally, all forces responsible for urban development should reconsider ancient planning dimensions to cause room for sustainable urbanism, create open spaces and ensure street safety of all people through urban design. It is so absurd to be a physical planner remembered for no innovative project but woes. In the end, physical planning will be hailed, our reputation will be adored and our instinct will be felt in creating senses of places and therefore stop leaving like strangers in our communities. Once again, I thank you all for always following and request that you share this message to create a difference.
The writer is a physical planning trainee
Write your legacy today!
@city_planning_Media (CPM)
Ourcity-Ourlife
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