When I was in senior school, I hated history. It was dreary, a recitation of events and years; and an interpretation of the good or bad of these based on what the teachers narrated to us for note-taking. My mind never seemed to have an active role in those lessons. I actually persuaded the dean of higher studies at the school where I attended my A-level not to trust my ordinary level history score in deliberating whether history should be part of the electives I studied (it was so good it surprised me!). These days I can’t seem to get enough of history. I have consumed more of it in the last 10 years than I ever anticipated I would. I have found it to be a most illuminative preoccupation. I have consumed material on the history of Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Greece, Rome, Great Britain, France, Germany, Church History; I have dug into the biographies of kings and kingdoms, countries and their struggles for independence. I have studied data on the rise of Islam and its influence on the political, military, economic and social organization of the Middle East and North Africa; I have read some material on South Africa, Spain, Singapore and Botswana. I have also dug into the documented history of events on the continent of Africa from as far before colonialism as I have been able to locate them, through our introduction to the nations of the world, slave trade, colonialism and on to independence and beyond. I have read critiques of this history as well since it especially intrigues me. I have also read biographies about leaders of multinational companies and the stories of their rise and continued success.

What I have found most illuminating is how little of our story is documented by us. I have observed that the nations that dominated Africa through colonialism and today through economic and military influence appeared more interested in our story than we were. And, quite naturally, they have documented it mostly in the context of how they saw us relative to themselves – a natural bias that I believe we would have shown had it been us writing of them if the tables were turned. When we finally adopted their systems of education, we ended up learning of ourselves not through the narratives of our fore fathers that knew us: our potential, our moments of greatness and greatest folly; but by those that met us while we were (in their eyes) weak, naïve, petty, barbarian ( a term generally used by a people that considers themselves ‘civilized’ to refer to everyone else that’s not like them. The Romans used it, as did the Greeks – in reference to the Persians; and, at their early republican stage, the Romans as well). In one way or another we learnt to see ourselves the way they saw us and ceded the role of chronicler of our life and times to them.

This phenomenon has, I observe, been replicated in our private and non-government sectors. Quite naturally, since the organizations of repute that occupy these spaces tend to be non-African in origin, it’s their stories about us – enshrined in the histories, visions, missions and values of these enterprises that we have adopted and committed our lives to executing. We execute the strategies they propose, based on their narrative understanding of who we are, where we are in our journey of maturity, what we want and do not want, what we need; with much gusto – even when we notice the misalignment between how they know us and how we see us. Again, I do not believe that it is done with deliberate malice on their part; they see us relative to themselves and make decisions based on that. Even at national level, I sense that concerning our priorities, we tend to co-opt the narratives of those whose financial aid and/or debt supports our national budgets in articulating our intent and strategies.

I have observed through my review of history how careful many rulers were about how their history was told. I found it particularly intriguing for instance that the Greek rulers emphasized to their students the history of their culture with a strong bias towards the accounts of the great acts of their ‘ancestors’. The impact of this education was so empowering on their youths. Alexander the Great for instance was very taken with attempting to imitate the valor of Achilles and this drove him to conquer the known world of the time before his 30s – even facing down empires reputably stronger than his own city-state of Macedon! Greater nations took pains to change or erase the histories of peer nations they conquered in a bid, I believe, to ensure that the conquered peoples had no story of themselves around which to rally a response against their conqueror in years to come. I believe this was a key reason why, in the biblical record of Nebuchadnezzar’s first attack on the Southern Kingdom of Israel (Judah), he carried away all the princes and learned men of the nation into Babylonian captivity – ‘leave no one behind who can remind them of who they are to cause as much headache as they have so far’. The Egyptians and Assyrians carved the record of their histories onto the walls of their palaces and temples, very careful that it aligned with the way they remembered events both good and bad. In some instances they left out the bad ones altogether. When I read the stories of a number of billionaires in the USA today, I have noticed that those considered the most inspiring tend to be the ‘rags – to – riches’ variety. I suppose that these are heavily popularized because they embody the character most admired by that nation’s people – the fact that their nation is not tethered to the old – school class systems of advancement; that if you apply yourself diligently you have a genuine opportunity to attain happiness and advance your estate in life. Most any story you read – whether that of ‘Commodore’ Vanderbilt, John D. Rockefeller, Warren Buffet, Bill Gates, Lee Iaccoca, Robert Kiyosaki, Dr. Ben Carson, Barack Obama (I couldn’t resist); you tend to find this theme growing out to its climax of ‘happyness’.

I recall reading somewhere that naming is a means to communicate authority or responsibility over someone or something; the one who names you owns you. Your story, and the story of your enterprise is a powerful thing. It can be what fuels your growth for 100 years; it can be the reason you grow from a small unknown corner of Uganda to become what may be recognized as a Fortune 500, S&P 500, Forbes 100 company. It can attract capital to you – patient finance as well as outstanding talent. It can lead you into markets that stick, grow you a clientele that doesn’t drift, secure you the attention of policy makers and rulers. It can inspire a nation to grow from Third World to First in a matter of decades – and keep it there for centuries. So who is telling your story? Is it yours or is it copied? Can you write it down? Can you enshrine the desired end of your future into the core of your enterprise? Can you build your code of discipline as a company around that desired end? Can you negotiate events material to you in such a manner that you obtain the most desired circumstances for this story to grow, mature and thrive?

As a nation we need to take responsibility for the account of our history. Yes, so much happened to us; the trauma of the slave trade, colonization; we became one nation out of a significant number of smaller nation states defined along ethnic lines through a process we had absolutely no say or control over (the partition of Africa). Many of us lost land, property, prestige. Much occurred during that period leading up to our independence that was grievous on us. And to a not insignificant extent, we continued to prosecute these differences through the avatar of our national governments after independence. This however is only part of the story – the most documented part. There must have been accounts before of how we respectively came to settle in this land. There must have been things we were excellent at before we merged into one nation. We must have had industry worth talking about – rudimentary as it was. We must have had scholars, we must have had traders, and there must have been men of excellence worth copying in habit. We must have had persons of distinction in government, persons who by their skill negotiated settlements that averted wars, fairly distributed resources and formed the basis of successful alliances. We had religions and cultures too that reflected what we considered to be our core values. This account, together with our colonization to independence and after story needs to merge into a narrative that we can all share – where we are going together. When all these streams joined together to form the great river Uganda, what is the wealth of life in it now? What do each of us bring to the table to enrich everyone else? How do we notice each other and call out the names of our tribes with respect and honor? How do we sharpen each other, how do we challenge each other to excellence beyond our previous experience? How do we meet the wrongs that were meted on our colleagues in times past through our old systems, acknowledge them, and build a new consensus that will guide our relations over the next 100 years? Can we build monuments of reconciliation, cooperation, compromise and agreement over the events that we once highlighted as tragedies that divided us? What is our story? Who are we? Who are we going to show and tell the world we are? It is my desire that the development of this narrative become a key mission that drives the teaching of history in our schools and universities; and that parents are equipped with to inspire our children concerning what being Ugandan really means, to stir up the imagination of Africa on what our potential reaches to. Such a narrative will not mean we stop arguing and quarreling. It shall mean however that our fights shall be about how we get to the one ideal we have agreed we are. This is one area that I hope to see the Paideia Uganda project grow – becoming a credible, active partner in curating the story of this country to inform the organizations and, yes, governments of our future. Leading up to this however, I would like to see this project become useful in assisting entrepreneurs of Ugandan born businesses articulate their stories and provide the messages around which they shall organize themselves for sustainable long-term relevance – here at home as well as regionally and globally.

In my country’s national anthem, we are the Pearl of Africa’s crown. It would surely be something to record for my life how we saw that Pearl come to shine so bright that the rest of the continent was inspired to polish the crown to match and surpass the imagination of the world.