ALDRINE NSUBUGA SNR: Bobi Wine, a boy who grew up on ganja, leaves political experts confused to the extent of eating on their vomit

Jesus said; “The stone the builders rejected as worthless has become the cornerstone. This is the Lord’s doing and it is marvelous in our eyes”

One by one, they have started to jump off the expert train. Flashing their veteran political commentary experience, they called him names; he is ‘mad,’ ‘crazy,’ ‘confused,’ they said. It became fashionable to ridicule, dismiss and insult him. Now they are backtracking.

One vocal northern politician infamously said on Tv during an interview; “I have met and spoken to Bobi Wine and I swear to you, he can’t be president of Uganda.He knows nothing. Don’t even waste your time with him.”

A year later, millions of Ugandans are ‘wasting’ their time on him. Wherever he goes, locals in their multitudes suspend work and even food, to catch a glimpse of this time ‘waster’ now turned history maker. And now, the ‘political experts’ who spoke about Bobi disdainfully are eating on their vomit.

It’s what Bobi does – breaking stereotypes, doing extraordinary things unconventionally. He is a phenomenon. Enigmatic. They thought he was like anyone else they had seen before and so they used a template to describe and define him. But where had they seen a ghetto boy going for the highest office in the land before? How could they understand the mind of a boy who grew up on ganja? This enigma has now built a political monster.

You look at his inner circle; bodyguards and blindingly loyal faithfuls who never leave his side and you marvel at his genius – all no bodies, all youth, all inexperienced, some ‘baana bakukaalo,’ his long time music buddies, brothers and wife – and wonder how this group has managed to tear every page in political professors’ teaching manuals and shamed political experts. Abaana tebaagala manya.

It is this nucleus of amateurs that has turned Bobi’s campaigns into a juggernaut that thunders through the countryside and wipes out entire cities. This group that has made tankers, police patrols, mobile prisons and numberless vehicles become part of his motorcade.

So special is this boy, that those of us who chose to simply love him from day one didn’t need a reason. Seeing as I did that he was derided by the elite class who saw him as a derelict, I decided to stand in the gap.

Omwavu aba n’akake (even the poor have their own) and I wanted to demystify the notion that Bobi was loved by only the youth and ghetto community. The more he was abused, insulted and dismissed, the more I was convinced he was the right horse to back.

And so I’ve been watching events quietly during my sabbatical. My heart has been melting, at times with tears. This boy – my boy – who no one gave a chance is sweeping the country like a hurricane. It’s nostalgic. This beautiful story goes on and on. When I meet him, all I will tell him is ‘Thank you.’

Bobi hasn’t held concerts for almost 5 years but guess what; his music is what the millions mobbing him are listening and dancing to as if he never left the music scene at all. And when they demand a capella, as it has become the norm, he gladly and proudly gives it, sending the crowds into a frenzy. God surely works in mysterious ways.

For me, how this story ends matters but not as much as the lessons there in… That in politics there are no experts.

That voters understand politics more than the so called political ‘experts’ That to achieve one’s dream, the only endorsement you need is you.That a street boy is as important in life as you. That no one has a monopoly of love. That a nation can be united even in political diversity.

And finally that Bobi, the wine – was never like any of his peers. He has always been presidential. He is presidential. This is the message for Bebe Cool.

The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. Jesus said that, not me.