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KANDE, BULEMEEZI

Monday, January 5, 2004

At four o’clock in Mulago Hospital mortuary, the attendant starts to work on the day’s new arrivals. They are all still lying on trolleys waiting to be treated, for the lucky ones, and then shelved. First, he arranges the bodies in rows and tags them. He starts with those who had been patients—patient number, name, and ward. Then he moves on to those that he calls the “to whom it may concern” non-patients, unclaimed. In his view, there is nothing as sad as having fussed over your name all your life—my name is . . . I was named so because or after my . . . only to be tagged “unknown” in death just because you can’t say it.

Kamu has a name, place and date of death. He writes, Kamu, but after a cheeky thought he adds, Kamugye, because it sounds right. He adds, Bwaise, D.O.D 5/1/04. He smiles at his own humor and the parallel he has made between Kamu, a thief, and kamugye the squirrel. He slips the string of the tag over the ball of Kamu’s dusty big toe: it settles like a necklace and he tightens it.

Kamu arrived at Mulago Hospital two and a half hours ago on the back of a police pickup truck. The police picked him up from Bwaise at one o’clock, five hours after his death. On arrival they had inquired, half-heartedly, in the market and nearby shops whether anyone had seen what happened. Everyone said that Kamu was lying there, dead, when they arrived at work that morning. The police were only putting on a show. They knew no one would tell the truth: who would want to testify in court? Nonetheless, they took down notes in case someone rich or powerful turned up and was related to the deceased and the CID would be involved and people had to be arrested and there would be money to be made from both the bereaved and the suspects. After the inquiries the policemen put their guns down and hauled Kamu’s body onto the pickup. They laid him between the benches on either side, climbed on, sat around him, and drove away.

That same afternoon, in Kande where Kamu was born, nature played out a drama so bizarre that Miisi’s wife and his sister looked to the supernatural. But not Miisi, Kamu’s father. He was rational. There had to be a logical explanation.

The sun had been so high all afternoon that looking through the radiation in the air, nature seemed to be trembling. Miisi was sitting under the lime tree in his backyard, munching roasted groundnuts, watching time go by, when suddenly the sky turned gray. Then a droning noise came. It was not only heavy but it was getting louder. Miisi looked up: there was nothing in the sky yet the droning seemed to be coming closer. He tossed some nuts into his mouth, stood up, walked to the center of the yard, and scanned the sky. Then he saw it. A swift cloud was sailing toward him, droning. As it drew closer, it dropped altitude. It seemed to be heading for his house but Miisi remained rooted to the spot.

As the cloud approached, Miisi saw that it was a swarm of bees. He could even see the individual bees. Each bee flew in its own circle pushing ahead, returning, and pushing ahead again. Yet, in spite of this dizzying flight, the swarm moved forward as one. It continued over the outdoor kitchen, across the backyard toward the main house. For a moment it seemed to head for the back door but then it veered to the right. At the edge of the house, it turned toward the front. The narrow corridor between the house and the hedge forced the swarm to slow down. The bees abandoned their circuitous flight and surged forward, their hum dense and heavy. The window of the outer bedroom on the first floor was open. As if ushered in by an invisible hand, the swarm rose and flew in as a whole.

A child ran out of the house screaming, “We’re dead! Bees in the guest room!”

Miisi broke out of his stupor. Muttering, “let me see,” as if he did not believe the child, he ran to the house. Inside, the buzzing upstairs was so heavy it felt like walking into a colossal beehive. Miisi ran upstairs. He gingerly opened the door to the balcony and peered in. Thankfully, the door to the guest room where the bees had camped was closed. For a long time, he stood at the door, reluctant to step onto the balcony. Gradually, the droning started to wane. Individual bees buzzed sporadically as if they were finally settling down. That is when Miisi summoned the courage to tiptoe across the balcony to the deck railings and lean forward. He looked below on the ground, then above in the sky and all around to see the reason for the bees’ behavior but there was nothing remarkable in the air. Just then the grayness in the sky lifted, and the sun came out and grew hot again. Miisi stood on the balcony, baffled.