To my newer readers I shall provide a short summary. I have not yet approached you with this story. To my older readers I apologise for this repetion. Although even in a short compressed version there might be additional knowledge due to the power of words. What we usually call the cracks of language. The summary will squeeze hidden experience by sucking these small and thiny pockets.
In Tanzania I met a man working for the Danish Foreign Ministry. At the time I was wondering why these state advisors seem so much more reasonable and sincere than all the NGO people who are supposed to be critical and progressive but are not. I began to queston the intention of my NGO employer.
I never knew his name and we did not meet again. We only shared dinner one evening. He spoke to me and I to him. When he learnt that I was going to Kampala he felt the urge to tell about a book telling the colonial history of East Africa. He could not remember the exact title or even the name of the author. He supposed that the title is “The Elucrative” written by a British man. The name of the author is perhaps Smith. He ensured me, that I would be able to find it in any bookshop, when I would arrive my destination in Uganda. I have been looking in every bookshop Kampala and asked everybody, but there is apparently no sign of such a book. Finally I discover the library at Makerere University. I have been misled, because my employer from the beginning insisted that there are no libraries in Kampala or Uganda for that matter. Therefor I did not think of the library. It was a coincident. A man in the University Bookshop suggested that I could go to the library. I must remember to thank him. I walked through campus. Such a space used to be mine but I left it because it was necessary. Now I had coincidentally returned. I felt at home and knew exactly what to do. It was not the only time I went there, and in the meantime I discovered the correct title and the authors full name. I went to one of the bookshops in town and rapidly the man went to shelf and found the book to me. I was so disappointed. It was a paperback edition from 2001 and published by Penguin. I did not want to buy it out of protest against bad rapping. Suddenly it was so easy. This destroyed the mystery I had been building up. Therefor I will keep on pretending a search for a book without traces and this led me back to the library for a second time. This time I was determinated to achieve my goal. That very day I will conquer the book with magical soul. Before targetting my eal business in the library I wanted to repeat my first visit. It is possible that I missed something and so I approached the index. I found the reference to my mystery on the same little card and with this knowledge I walked around on the floor. Of course I knew that I was supposed to go upstairs, but you never know if there was a hint below. You must never assume anything. It will hunt you down. There is no structure that can help you search and no matter how many concepts you develop you still find the good answers by coincidence. In that sense there are no shortcuts or as a former colleague once said to me. Life is one long road filled with an indefinite row of detours. When reaching the reference section I thought that I might be lucky but you can never rely on such hopes. It would have been too easy not even having to walk the stairs. Of course I was looking for any kind of shortcut to my destiny. The staircase was there in front of me. I knew the way already, but still it felt like an unknown adventure. So I walked the stairway to the next level.
I was upstairs. Everything looked the same. I tried to repeat my previous struggle towards the section for history books. Also here I saw no change. Since I previously was a Historian, it should not have been a surprise to me. Things does not change very much seen in a broader perspective. Here was still a lot of dust. Being in Africa I have already become accustomed to dust everywhere. Still it bothers me to see these books covered with reddish powder. It is not so easy for me to pretend that I was never here before. I know what will happen. The fact that I have already bought the book somewhere else and even read it cannot slip my mind. I am just simulating to look through the bookshelves.
Downstairs there is something that I deliberately have been ignoring as an act of my colonial behavoir. Already the first time I was in the library I noticed the computers. They were in a seperate room. I consciously decided that these computers did not exist. I acknowledged their presence but concluded without inquiry that they could be of no use for me. I was sure that the books in library were not digitalised. We can regard it as symbolic blindness. It is when somebody sees something without taking it into account. I did not grant the computer room any value. On the other hand I instinctively used digitialisation as a measurement for development. Something I have not necesarrily done, when I have found myself in libraries in Europe.
Also I have ignored the fact that most of the books in the library where stored in restricted areas called African Section. In order to access the books in this section you need to be a registered member of the library. I never registered, because you had to pay a fee. As a foreigner you had to pay a considerably higher fee in US dollars. I had hesitated to do that to keep my local identity in shape. I am sure that the books in the African Section are in a much better condition, but I have never observed it myself. I could in this way protect an important conclusion of mine about East Africa. Here people don’t read very much. One structural reason is that many are poorly educated, but more importantly the culture is organised through oral interaction. Therefor books are not highly valued. The library was in my eyes just a symptom.
I kept coming back to the library. In between my visits to the library I was thinking of proposing a project to improve the condition of the library. I even talked it over with a number of people. They all incouraged me to do something about. I thought that I could help to digitalise the material in the library. One day when I returned to the library, there were a lot of computers sponsored by Uganda Telecom. I could not help feeling a slight disappointment in my heart.
Nowadays I an sitting in a slightly different library with a view of the harbour front. The soft snow of Febrary is waving to me. I am reading about the railroad. The story is kind of dry and have a touch of old fashion documentary. The reading room gives me pleasure and put focus to my thoughts. The book is first edition with beautiful drawings. I try to prolong the legend.
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