He is laying helplessly on his hospital deathbed. He has no hopes of survival. He has already written his will and guided his lovely kids on the tricks of survival in this difficult world.

But there are quite many visitors and some are holding all sorts of gifts-the types you bought on your recent visit to Mulago. Others are promising prayers, but for him, he has already lost hope. He has even told his relatives to prepare his grave (there are many Ugandans who do that today).

And all his enemies have already forgiven him. Of course there is no reason holding a permanent grudge against somebody who is about to meet his creator.

Well, that is the perfect situation for a Ugandan patient. But ask her how he is doing and she will say;  “I am fine.” Fine? When you are dying? No, after that perplexing answer, he will say; “But I almost died last night. It was so terrible. I am still not feeling easy. In fact help me call the other doc.” Then you wonder what the heck he was talking about a few seconds-not minutes or hours but seconds ago when he said he is fine.

How are you today?

Ugandans are like that. They just can’t tell the truth when they are being greeted. They will always say they are fine, even if something terrible is ruining their lives.

Not all of them though. Some are genuine. They will say they aren’t fine instead of first deceiving you. But hold on for a second, some use it to gain some favours.

Anyway, this is Uganda. In those days when I was still active in the benching business at Makerere University, I would go to some hall of residence like Box (Marystuart) and all the girls would say that they are glad to see me. Some would be genuine but many wouldn’t. And you only come to know about it when the unfriendly statements are said about another ‘bencher.’

One guy was once welcomed in my presence in a certain room in Box. He received a warmly hug from the cutest babe around and I felt somehow bad.

The  ‘nga I miss yous’ followed and they held their hands together in an apparent display of love or its equivalent. I just stared in amazement and there was no mistaking the dude felt very proud about it.

And when he left, he became the topic. “Ka guy ako kelaga,” the hostess started, meaning that the other visitor is showy. ‘’I hate him, I don’t know why he comes here’’ she continued.

They laughed. But this is the man who had received the mother of hugs a few minutes ago. The bloke who took the tiresome staircase to the seventh floor. The dude who was made comfortable moments ago. Why didn’t they tell him the truth? “Well, if you do that, he will hate you. So you welcome him,” Julie, one of the girls in the room answered to my query.

The Baganda will welcome you with “Tusanyuse Okulaba” (Sorry, I don’t know what you say in your vernacular. See, we don’t have a national language) and some will dance to welcome you. They will make you feel at home. Then they will excuse themselves to the kitchen and then tell whoever cares to listen that you are a bad woman who always visits during the lunch hour.

That you paid them a visit last weekend and again you are back. That you want to finish their food, oba what will their children eat? Some will even say that you always time when they have prepared their chicken! You only get to know about it when the innocent young Junior informs you on your next visit that: “mammy said you always come to finish her delicious food.”

If you are that person who visits others at work, know it that you aren’t always welcome. Your host will greet you and introduce you to her workmates as a great friend blah blah…

Before you even thank the gatekeeper for not disturbing you a lot, the lady is telling her friends that you had visited her for some bucks, the thing you never mentioned about. “Kyoka Sara, that woman thinks I am Standard Charted,” she will deceive. “Maybe you are her ATM,” Sara would shoot back before laughing her head off.

Then it comes to these mobile phones. You call her and she says, “Oh my God I have been missing your lovely voice. I am in great shape.” Before you finish up, she is telling you how hungry she is and how lucky she would be if you bought her supper at Wandegeya’s I Feel Like Chicken Tonight restaurant.

Then you ask yourself why she didn’t say she isn’t fine and very hungry. It would have been a great opportunity to tell her that you are not the World Food Programme or the minister in charge of disaster preparedness.

So lady, next time I call you up, just say I am dying of hunger and I haven’t eaten fries for twelve months, so please take me out.  I definitely will if you find me in a great mood.

What about in taxis? You sit next to a woman who seems to have lots of problems. She looks the lady her in-laws are chasing away from her deceased hubby’s house. As a polite individual who was brought up the right way, you greet her and she says she is fine.

A few minutes later, she asks you for directions to FIDA, before revealing her moving story. So she deceived you about her fineness.

And don’t argue the other way that it isn’t good to tell people your problems. If you said you are fine, why then disturb others with your problems. Why don’t you just say; “I am not fine because my children don’t have examination fees or the head teacher disappeared with it.”

It would be better than saying fine yet you are about to die. Talking to people I think helps. You might even get free advice. If you even asked sociologists, they will tell you so.

But don’t worry. Next time I pay you a visit please just say; “you aren’t welcome. Would you please go back.” Then I will make you my best friend because you told me nothing but the truth.

By Denis Jjuuko