Showing posts with label Moral values- honour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Moral values- honour. Show all posts

Friday, September 26, 2008

The First King from Reading


There is nothing on King  Ronald Muwenda Mutebi II in the Wikipedia. I looked it up and was disappointed. If someone were to write his biography, it will be interesting. So interesting, in fact, it could possibly be made into a film. "The Last King of Scotland", may well be followed by "The First King from Reading".

I came across him in an article in The New Statesman. The magazine said that King Ronnie, before restoration to his throne in Uganda in 1993, worked as a gas-fitter in Reading, and was a double-glazing salesman in Kilburn, where he made only one sale.

To know more about his life, I looked up at Wikipedia, where there was not much about him.

Then I googled some.

I got an article in BBC which, in reporting his marriage, glazed over his past, describing his life during exile as "trying his hand at law, journalism and business". In 1966, his kingdom had been taken away from his father in a military coup. Idi Amin, who followed Milton Obote , used the royal palace as torture centre.

Then I found an interesting article in BNet, of The Independent report dated Jul 30, 1995. It describes his present life as King of Uganda in some detail.

According to Independent, "Whenever King Ronnie tours his kingdom, as he did last weekend, peasants kneel by the wayside as his entourage passes, schoolchildren sing and clap in an ecstasy of excitement. In each village along his route, bleating goats and squawking chickens are offered as gifts, while men prostrate themselves on the ground before the Kabaka." He is surrounded by a royal retinue, which includes Royal Cook, Royal Seating Attendant, Royal Door Closer, Royal Toiletry Attendant, Royal Tour Manager, Royal Palace Treasurer, and the Royal Drummer.

Having been crowned as the King of Uganda, he has now married Sylvia Nagginda Luswata, a British-born former World Bank employee and public relations executive. True to the background of her Royal Husband, the Queen, who has lived in the United States for the last 20 years, comes with rumours that  members of her clan were employed as cleaners for the British royal family.





It seems that King Ronnie has learned from his travails as a common man, because on the eve of his wedding, "he  granted the people of Uganda permission to break a tribal tradition - that no one but the royal couple should have sex on his wedding night." Apparently Ugandan Tradition believes  "any man who fails to resist temptation on the King's wedding day will be attacked by a sheep and become impotent" . King Ronnie has done away with that piece of tradition. Good of him.

(I am not making fun of the King, Queen and the people of Uganda. These are the interesting times we live in, and it is reflected in the story of King Ronnie. Actually I saw the film, "The Last King of Scotland", in which Forrest Whittaker gives a breathtaking performance as Idi Amin. The film has wonderful music too. But, for all that, the film is not a happy one. It is heartening that Ugandans have picked themselves up, and have resumed their lives. In that sense, the life of their King is a tale of endurance overcoming the disasters of dictatorship.)



Tuesday, September 2, 2008

A Diversion

I am reading about Oswald Mosley, the fascist with trademark black shirt.


His grandfather, who was also named Oswald Mosley, might have been the model for John Bull, the cartoon representation of the stolid Briton. He was a prize-winning breeder of shorthorn cattle, an authority on shire horses, milled flour for his own wholemeal 'Standard Bread' which was promoted by Daily Mail.

His son, our Mosley's father,  had 'insatiable and promiscuous sexual habits', His wife, Mosley's mother, found love letters from her husband to his mistress. She took her children and left him. Old Sir Oswald, supported his daughter-in-law. He called his son for a boxing match, and with one arm tied behind his back, the old man thrashed his dissolute son. The humiliated son left home and stayed in a local inn, and then moved to London.

All this happened early in the twentieth century. It could have happened here too, in Erukkampatti or some other small village.