Talkative Polity. Florence Brisset-Foucault

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СКАЧАТЬ . . . There are many places to eat but to call that a lunch . . . [At Club Obbligato at least], we didn’t have to choose between chicken and meat.”³²

      According to informants, the meetings in Club Magic were quite similar to the original ones in Club Obbligato; they harbored a very different format of sociability than the formality that characterizes family and clan ceremonies in Buganda, which are usually very hierarchical, marked by congregating around the “guests of honor,” and by deference toward elders. Such gatherings aim at strengthening the links between members of a clan or restaging family roles.³³ As Mikael Karlström noted, clan meetings are the cradle of an exclusive format of sociability, which nourishes social hierarchies and thus promotes a specific model of personhood rooted in clan genealogy and defined by one’s place in the clan social fabric.³⁴ In Club Magic, the sociability was largely masculine. It was very rare to meet wives and children, and as one interviewee explained, it would not come to members’ minds to bring relatives.³⁵ The rare women who came did not come as wives but on their own. As we will see more precisely below, the absence of women had an important influence on the format of the ebimeeza. Their absence also distinguished the shows from other kinds of gatherings, in particular the Local Councils and church meetings, as well as the rural and up-country talk shows, where the presence of women, and also children, was important. Meetings in Club Magic, as was originally the case at Club Obbligato, were the cradle of an exclusive equality among men of a certain standing.

      The following quotation by Dr. Edward Kayondo, talking about Club Obbligato, illustrates the specificity of this format of sociability and how it was seen by the historicals:

      Q: Why this pub in particular? What did it have that was particular that people would meet there?

      A: Well, it was out of town, slightly out of town, with parking, quieter than town, it had a band after. After discussion we could go dancing all night. . . . It had cooking facilities.

      Q: Why was it important that it was out of town?

      A: Because in town you have no parking. And you have noise, and you don’t have such a big area. . . . And the people running it are friends. . . . This place is a social club.³⁶

      The word club, as used by Kayondo, was ambiguous, referring not only to the idea of a nightclub but also to “social clubs,” which were typical of colonial sociability and as such implied an idea of exclusivity and an ambition to be part of the social and cultural elite.³⁷ Contrary to the latter, Club Obbligato was not officially exclusive: one did not need to be registered as a member to get in. That principle was not evident at the beginning, though; some founding members of the Ekimeeza would have preferred to preserve a certain exclusivity or privacy. However, as the lunch meetings were not protected by any rules or open financial barriers, and because of the commercial objectives of the club’s owners, who wanted to attract the most people possible, the entre-soi started fading, especially after discussions began to be broadcast.

      Distinguished Movementism

      Such ways of being together were strongly related to the forms of political action these actors valued, to their political ideals, and to the ways they interacted with the state and political elites. The following quote from an interview with two historicals illustrates their state of mind:

      Historical #1: [Under Amin], when you had a car like this one [a 4x4], they took it from you like that. You were killed and they drove it without even changing the number [plate]. . . . Wamala’s father was killed because of his property. If he hadn’t been rich, maybe he would still be alive. But he died because of his money. So why would I want politics? Let [Museveni] be in power as much as he wants, if we are at peace . . .

      Historical #2: We didn’t think it would turn out like this, but [Museveni] brought change. A big change . . . [Now] you can make money and you can drive as many cars as you want.³⁸

      These actors were very attached to a certain kind of political and economical liberalism. They did support Museveni, but not because of any partiality toward the “grassroots democracy” institutions and mythology that are at the core of the NRM discourse and project. Far from being militants or even adhering to the NRM’s political philosophy, these men’s opinions illustrate the position of a large part of the Ganda elite of the 1980s who, as Mikael Karlström said, were “hoping when the NRM came to power in 1986, for a more benign political order and an economic climate which would allow them to reconstitute their class position.”³⁹ And indeed, the faction of the Ganda elite engaged in industrial and business activities benefited quickly from the regime change, especially the ones who chose to cultivate close ties with the new leadership.⁴⁰

      The historicals qualified their actions and political preferences as “apolitical” and were very reluctant to turn these preferences into open support. They manifested their political opinions through individual micropractices of sociability, such as private meetings, and the Ekimeeza was clearly seen as an extension of this. As one of them explained:

      [Thanks to the Ekimeeza], people have really seen who were the Salehs [president’s half brother], that they could be approached. . . . I think it really helped us politically. Even if I am not engaged in politics.

      Q: What do you mean when you say “us”?

      A: I mean the Movement. I don’t want to say that I am not a Movement man, even if I am not engaged in politics. Because I am behind the Movement. I am behind Museveni. Because of the experience I had in Obote’s time, in Amin’s time. I saw a big change and I appreciate it. [. . .] I don’t have money to put in politics, but I campaign for them. [. . .] I inform people. I talk for them in private circles.⁴¹

      Founding members preferred intellectual and discreet ways of engaging in politics, and some tried, for example, to promote a dialogue between the central government and Mengo behind the scenes, which recalled the forms of engagement used by the Ganda conservative elite under the protectorate.⁴² According to the Ekimeeza historicals, political relations had to remain a private affair, anchored in sociability and paradoxically defined as “apolitical.” The decision to broadcast the discussions was thus criticized by some because it broke this discreet pattern of political involvement.

      For the historicals, being a “Movement man” while “not being engaged in politics” was not contradictory. Generally speaking, founding members of the Ekimeeza had very few political experiences in their youth. Contrary to other portions of the Buganda elite or aspiring elite, they had not supported the Bush War and were even less engaged in it.⁴³ Some supported the NRM financially, as many businessmen do in Kampala. But once again, they did not define this as something “political,” as one explained:

      I got what I wanted, which was peace. [. . .] I went out of politics. Apart from supporting the NRM when there’s fund-raising, but apart from that I am just a [professional] and a businessman.

      Q: But still you give some money . . .

      A: To the party yes, if I can, I do.

      Q: You are an official member of the party?

      A: I am not, but I am a supporter of the party. I don’t have any cons. For me, my aim was to have peace. Peace that would do to make a better country for my children, my children to be happy. You know, before, you could not have a building like this with just glass [he waves toward a huge skyscraper]. You need to have ugly [concrete] . . . so for me, what is here is a good thing.⁴⁴

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