All Protocols Observed

One of the amazing customs in Uganda and across Africa I’m sure is speech making. Ugandans are extremely formal. The utmost respect is given to even the most minor of events or meetings. Men are in suits, women are in traditional dresses and all are impeccable. An agenda, or “program” as it is called here is always drafted, even for a meeting of two people or for a birthday party. I once popped in to Gulu University to get a quick update from the Librarian and found myself formally convened by a chair person (the librarian) and was referred to as “member” throughout the meeting (member of what, I so desperately wanted to ask.)

A speech in Uganda follows a certain structure. There is usually a bow to the dais before beginning a very long list of acknowledgments of all of the VIPs in attendance. In another place, the VIPs are usually kept to a small minority of specially recognized individuals, like say Ambassadors or the Guest of Honor. In Uganda, the acknowledgment section of the speech can sometimes be its longest part. I think this is in large part due to some neo-colonial mutation of the British class system, where everyone here has a title. Honorable Chair person of this event, of the local government, the deputy honorable chair person, honorable speaker, Ladit Rwot, Honorable woman MP, woman representative of the district production office, madam secretary, honorable donor representative, ladies and gentlemen, all protocols observed. Do you need to say that if you’ve actually observed all of the protocols?

Once everyone, and I mean everyone, is acknowledged, the speech begins with the phrase “I don’t have much to say.” This phrase makes me smile and cringe at the same time. Yes you do! You have a ton to say and you’re going to talk for as long as you’re allowed and you’re going to say things that were already said by the past 5 speakers and you’re going to say them nearly verbatim!

Despite my mocking, I admire the uniformity of events anchored by the speeches. Many people are good speakers. I can’t help but observe that oratory is one of those traits that has crossed over to African Americans somewhere along the way. Every once in a while you get a great speech. Mao, of course, is a famous speaker. The man can talk (as they say.) I always find myself at the edge of my seat as he deftly navigates the issue du jour. There is also the mythical parable usage. It’s not really mythical, but lately that’s the word I use to express my utmost respect and awe. The best way to capture the attention of the audience here is by incorporating a parable. My first and rather grand experience with this was when the Archbishop of northern Uganda addressed the UN Security Council and said “when elephants fight it is the grass that gets trampled.” What an impression he left! The lobotomized and playboys were in unison that day in their admiration for his impassioned pleas for the people of northern Uganda. My goal before I leave Gulu is to plausibly insert a relevant parable into a speech. I relish the thought of the moment I’ll do it and the guaranteed warm reception I will receive from the audience.

Many speeches, however, are a litany of dull regurgitations whose purpose is not to entertain or even to engage the audience. But rather the purpose is to stick lockstep within the protocols being observed and complete the important task bestowed upon them to elucidate the moment with their presence and prose and do so for as long as it takes or longer.

Of course, I’ve had to make plenty of speeches myself. It used to make me really panic – like heart rate increase and sweats panic. But now, I know that if I go an event that I’m somehow involved in its inception, I’m going to have to speak. My heart rate still accelerates a bit, but the element of surprise (that I’m expected to speak) is gone. As dull a speaker as I am, I cannot bear it if I think I’m losing my audience, so I over compensate by cutting my speech to mere minutes. It’s only recently that I noticed that this dumbfounds my audience. I think perhaps it is even a bit rude. Once I get my parable down, though, I’m going to be great. Or a bit more entertaining at least.

The speeches end as they begin, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I don’t have much to say.” And sometimes, given either the gravity of the event or its profile, the speaker will end with a deadly serious, “For God and my country.” Exit stage left.