In Summary

Rendition. Empty tins make a lot of noise which will very often make you laugh. Visit this page every Sunday to encounter Empty Tin and his warped ideas.

To get a certain spotted animal’s attention, you don’t need scents of blood but blaming Dr Kizza Besigye for all the problems in Uganda. You can even say he was the one who betrayed the Uganda Martyrs to Kabaka Mwanga.

I set out for Makerere University on Monday eager to speak to vice chancellor Barnabas Nawangwe on the recent issues dogging the Ivory Tower. Knowing it would be impossible to meet him without prior appointment, I thought of a plan and remembered how politicians impress upon the spotted animal.

“I’m a blood relative of a lecturer here. My brother and other Muasa members had a secret meeting in a hotel in town but I have minutes of the meeting he had in his possession,” I told the secretary.
“And your brother is who?” the woman asked.
“It’s confidential. I must reveal the detail only to him, it’s very important that I meet him,” I said.
Minutes later, I was ushered into the office.

I introduced myself and noticed he seemed in a hurry despite the usual calm demeanour that can disarm a spotted animal charging at a political enemy. He asked for my brother’s name but I played evasive and praised him for standing up to one ‘notorious bully’ at the university.

“Deus Kamunyu, I have handled him. All his cliques, I will deal with them. The age of their blackmail is no more at this university,” the VC declared.
“But sir, Deus isn’t the bully I was talking about,” I said.
“Doesn’t matter,” he responded peremptorily.

He glanced at the wall clock and back at his wrist watch as if to confirm that Elizabeth II is still the queen of England. Then he asked for the minutes of the meeting.

I spoke at length in the debriefing, throwing a few common names like John, Jane, and Jackson from time to time to make the story more convincing. With every sentence, his brows furrowed and he changed from reclining in his seat to sitting up.

His mobile trilled and he picked it. He said he had another appointment. A cue to finish up.

“Muasa tasked six of its members with meeting every student leader from halls of resident to schools and even departments,” I said. “They have secured funds and will pay the students leaders to incite the students at halls and faculties to call for your immediate suspension and prosecution.”

Nawangwe laughed. Almost like a sneer. “I’m always ahead of them,” he said as he nodded his head, apparently thinking of what to do with the lecturers and students leaders.

“What is worse is that these guys have bought off several administrators at both the Senate and the Main Building here, so these ones will also join in,” I added. Nawangwe reddened.

He called up the secretary and gave the instructions.
“Take this friend to the suspension office and ask them to work on suspension of certain enemies of this great university,” he said.

The secretary looked confused. I was even more confused. Suspension office? “Use the old templates with the signature already there. Just the usual; insubordination, inciting lecturers and students, endangering life and property at the university etc. Suspension takes immediate effect,” I heard him saying.
I was ushered into an adjoining office where a man who looked like a scarecrow made by an angry farmer was popping groundnut seeds.
“Have you finished with the suspension letters from earlier,” the secretary asked. The man nodded at a woman working on a Compact Pentium 4 computer. She answered without looking back that she was almost done.

“Well, you have more letters to type and send out with immediate effect. Stop everything else as these latest suspension letters will help preempt something tragic.” Her emphasis was so dramatic the man abandoned his groundnut seeds and punched his ‘Enter’ key.

The secretary told them to enter the names I would give off-head on old templates and send to all recipients by email and hard copies back to her desk.

I reeled off several names and titles picking out common ones. Noticing the angry-looking man yawn loudly, I figured it was time for the target. “Prof Barnabas Nawangwe,” I said. I saw him type that.

“Workload here is so much. There is more suspension letters than notes to students. I worry I might type my own suspension letter while on the job here,” the man complained.

I excused myself. “Thank you for the names, you eased my job today. Done and sent all,” I heard the angry-looking man say.
Will the VC wake up after realising he suspended himself in error?