Ka nino ni rac, kadi Layata ma ngic wangi
GULU CITY-WED. 7,2026
Last evening, Wednesday the 7th, 2026, I was enjoying my time at a local joint. Little did I know that there was a group of people who had developed ill intentions against me. As I sat quietly, minding my own business, a man approached casually. Soon after, Makmot, the owner of Wine Garage, arrived.
As time went on, Makmot began speaking about me in slang, clearly intending to humiliate me. Despite this, I maintained my composure and integrity.
He said, “This Oyeng yeng man once wrote about Gen. Salim Saleh, Gen. Charles Otema, and NRM SG Richard Todwong. I asked him, ‘You brown man, you look like a Munyankole—what is wrong with you?’”
Makmot responded harshly, “You bastard, don’t talk to me. My mother was married before I was born.” He became increasingly aggressive and added, “I will come and beat you up.” At that point, others seemed to turn against me, as if I were the problem.
I withdrew back into my chair and calmly responded, “My mother was properly married in Acholi tradition in the 1950s. She was also wedded in church. They lived honourably, Mrs. Easter Langol and Mr. Langol Yoko.”
As I sat there, nursing my disappointment, an elderly man at the next table engaged me. He asked my age, and I replied that I was old enough. He then asked who I was. I recognized him and said, “You are Counsel Omara.”
At this point, his demeaner changed. He became hostile, pulled out his keys, and told me to go and open his car so I could see the number of guns inside, as proof that he was not merely a counsel, but also an army man.
“You want me to take you to the Quarter Guard?” he threatened.
Sgt. Omara, a UPDF veteran, is not someone I have ever had a personal conflict with. What I know of him is that he is the son of Ben Omara, a former businessman who was executed by firing squad in 1977 during Idi Amin’s regime.
When Makmot was informed that the person he was insulting is related to Richard Todwong, he fell silent.
I offered this advice to Sgt. Omara: Gulu is a small town. One may act with impunity today, but when your time comes—when your “forty days” arrive—where will you hide your siblings?
Makmot Agoro pe camo kato Kulu. Today may be your day; tomorrow may be mine. Ali myero ki Kwateng.
If I disappear, Sgt. Omara will know where I am.
