Punishment and Mercy

Kinene’s mention of the Uganda Martyrs refers to events in Uganda between 1885 and 1887 that resulted in the execution by King Mwanga II of forty-five Christian converts. James Martin notes that Mwanga II felt that the influx of Christian missionaries in his kingdom, and Christianity at large, was challenging his authority. As more people began devoting themselves to God, the king interpreted this as disrespect toward the kingdom. He was also allegedly a pedophile, and when young Christian converts began rejecting his advances, he became determined to eradicate Christianity from Buganda, using violent tactics. This ultimately resulted in the burning of three Baganda Anglicans—Joseph Rugarama, Mark Kakumba, and Noah Serwanga—followed by the murder of an Anglican bishop, James Hannington. When Joseph Mukasa, one of the king’s senior advisers and an Anglican Christian convert, criticized the leader for not offering Hannington the opportunity to defend himself, Mwanga II became enraged and killed Mukasa as well, transforming him into the first of the Uganda Martyrs. Mwanga II then turned his attention to the head of the court pages, Charles Lwanga, and even toward the many Anglican converts among the pages. What followed was an extended period of persecution that culminated in all their deaths as Mwanga II’s men burned them alive.2Martin 2011.

In referring to the Uganda Martyrs, Kinene highlights how punishment might vary depending on one’s ability to think through a situation. Even though, according to Kinene, Mwanga II’s advisers suggested that he do not kill the martyrs, he still called for their deaths. Regarding Gganga, on the other hand, when the king learned that the musician and his daughter had secretly become romantically involved, his closeness to the performer allegedly prompted him to avoid giving Gganga the death penalty. He probably listened to and considered the musician’s plea, recognizing that despite his failure, he held no ill will and thus deserved clemency for his crime. Mwanga II exercised two different degrees of mercy here: none toward the Uganda Martyrs and at least some toward Gganga. Such variability suggests that rulers (even more brutal ones like Mwanga II) can find it in themselves to enact justice with compassion.

Jessy Ssendawula’s interpretation of “Gganga Had a Narrow Escape” considers two more recent historical examples—the American bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan and the Rwandan genocide—which relate to the theme of the emotional and behavioral shifts caused by violence. Ssendawula demonstrates that pain does not end where it begins. Instead, it roots itself in the people and places where it occurs, spreading its tendrils to affect places and times that extend beyond its immediate environment. For example, an event like a war will have implications far beyond the events of the battle itself or the immediate population it affects. For generations after, the pain it creates can be ruminated on, persisting in the ripples of its inception. Ultimately, the violence of war impacts more indirect victims than we can imagine. Ssendawula expounds on this theme:

The effects Ssendawula describes bring to the fore the notion of deliberation. In Ssebuwufu’s and Bisaso’s versions of “Gganga Had a Narrow Escape,” we see how the singer asks listeners—including the king—what he should do, encouraging them to reflect before deciding. By attempting to inform the king of the situation, the singer is perhaps providing him with a better outlook from which he can decide Gganga’s fate. Ssendawula’s interpretation suggests that smaller forms of violence still enact the same fundamental pain that massive wars do and that carelessly using violence as a form of justice might alienate a population from feeling that their leaders care about them.

Ssendawula shares his own version of the events of “Gganga Had a Narrow Escape” that slightly differs from Ssebuwufu’s and Bisaso’s renditions to provide tangible lessons to current leaders. He suggests that despite whatever justification a politician gives, violence will not erase political issues but will actually breed more issues for the society to deal with. In the case of Ssendawula’s commentary, he points to war veterans as one instance of violence’s effect, as their lasting wounds, physical and psychological, will require public support that reintegrates them into regular life. This process is very tenuous if one does not receive adequate support, and it may strain a government of its resources even further. Therefore, instead of believing that violence has no repercussions, Ssendawula argues that leaders should understand the reverberating, yet understated, impact of their political choices and should care for the population in this manner. Here, Ssendawula shares his alternate version:

Ssendawula’s points evaluate “Gganga Had a Narrow Escape” in terms of the song’s effects. Rather than focusing on the scene of the story itself, the points center on what happens afterward and how one should endeavor to maintain some modicum of amicability during the story’s aftermath. With Gganga, the kingship’s oversight only made the problem worse, causing him to continue to “steal.” With veterans, the laxity of twenty-first-century leaders might lead to increased crime and poverty, as vulnerable soldiers face starvation or criminality as their only two paths to survival. Being unable to reintegrate also means that, for some, it is harder to hold a job, keep a house, or maintain healthy relationships. Both instances exemplify the importance of diligence when dealing with the precarious process of rehabilitation.

Steven Mukasa Kabugo ends the analysis of “Gganga Had a Narrow Escape” by explaining the lesson that young listeners should draw from it, especially during times of turbulence or political uncertainty. His approach differs from Ssendawula’s thoughts in that Kabugo focuses less on ensuring accountability from the government for their own actions and more on the ways individuals themselves should behave to stay safe. He argues that the masses have a similar reciprocal responsibility to leaders, as they must equally take measures to protect themselves, even as leaders take steps to protect or uplift them. In the case of the song in question, Gganga had given in to his passions and failed to respect the conduct of the court. If he had followed Kabugo’s advice, he likely would have saved himself and the king from trouble, and both would have been better off. This arrangement centers on the role of the subject in maintaining beneficial relationships with rulers. Kabugo comments:

Kabugo demonstrates the role a single figure can play in benefiting the community at large. In doing so, he provides nuance to Ssendawula’s criticism of current leaders, suggesting that reducing political friction is a matter of personal conduct. This point further illuminates “Gganga Had a Narrow Escape” as a commentary of the actions that led up to Gganga’s punishment. Rather than focusing on the sentence itself, this transformation drives us to reflect on its primary cause, forcing us to reconsider the dynamic between king and subject we might have at one time taken for granted.