On Texts and Texting

Walking and driving around Gulu town, it is generally the people and vehicles that command attention. But I like to keep an eye out for the signboards and slogans that grow more vibrant and diverse each time I visit—one indicator that Gulu is really picking back up after the war. There is a strong oral component to traditional African cultures, but with the advent of modern forms of education and mass communication, written texts have assumed greater importance. Even with the mobile phone revolution, texting trumps calling as it nearly always works and costs far less. Incidentally, it seems that the best way to get your store painted is to advertise national products. The phone companies dominate the store-painting scene. You could opt for Warid’s pink and white color scheme (“We care”) or the striking red of Airtel. Blue buildings are either Uganda Telecom (“It’s all about U”) or pharmacies advertising cold and flu medicine. There is the longstanding yellow of the oversubscribed MTN or the orange of, yes, Orange, the company that boldly declares that “Choice changes with Orange.” The market pitch of Nile Special (a beer some of us are partial to) declares “You’ve earned it.” That looks rather out of place in the context of Gulu, where livelihood is more the watchword than leisure. Senator Beer is described as the “true taste of our land”—tea and coffee are surely stronger candidates for this accolade. Opposite our hotel is the slogan for cooking oil that reads: “Buy Fortune, Build Uganda.” I will refrain from commenting here where Uganda’s fortune currently lies, beyond its people and agricultural potential that is.

A couple of us attended the morning service at the rapidly growing Watoto (a Pentecostal/”born-again”) Church last Sunday. No-one appeared to be texting during the service you may be interested to know. Rather, all eyes were on the large, computer-mediated images that communicated the number of “celebration points” or branches of the church, its mission statement, and then the words of the various songs that were sung with great gusto by the mainly young, upwardly mobile and English-speaking congregation. There was a point in the sermon when congregants were exhorted to open their Bibles at the texts for the day. The lively preacher jokingly remarked that he hoped that they had not brought the King James Version of the Bible as “they would only be able to understand one word out of three.” Since he was wearing jeans and advocating a more modern, upbeat Christianity I suppose that I was not surprised at his choice. But I immediately thought of the many churches I had frequented around Africa, whether mission-related or independent, where the KJV reigned supreme. Only that text was held to have the requisite sacred power because of the historic beauty of the language. As an educator, I preach that words do matter, and while I enjoy a clever slogan, I sincerely hope that Africa’s oral richness does not get swamped by the powerful forces of late capitalism.