Pilgrims trekking to Walusi Hill
Photos: Frederick Kiwanuka
Other Photos: Kabalega
THIS is where Museveni got the powers to dislodge Obote. It was from
this same hill that Sir Edward Muteesa II acquired the powers that
protected him during the 1962 attack on his palace in Mengo.
The hill, however, remains unknown to thousands of Ugandans, who every
year make pilgrimages to Jerusalem and Mecca, but ignore the spiritual
treasure in their backyard.
It is only the traditionalists who have discovered the powers of Walussi
hill, found in Kikyusa Sub-county, Luweero district.
Every New Year’s Day, hundreds of them make a pilgrimage to this hill,
the holy land, to touch base with their gods; thank them for seeing them
through the old year, and ask for their blessings in the new year. The
pilgrims come from allover the country and beyond, and from all walks of
life — from taxi drivers to big names in the local business community.
I and my cameraman Frederick Kiwanuka also took part in the most recent
pilgrimage, which started Saturday 31, 2005 and ended Monday 2, 2006.
By the time we arrived at the foot of Walussi hill on Saturday evening,
the place was already buzzing with activity. Several cars, mainly
14-seater commuters, plus several small cars and trucks, were already
parked outside the tall reed fence that runs around Walussi’s court.
More cars kept on bringing pilgrims who were packed like sardines, singing
traditional worship songs at top of their already hoarse voices.
From their form of dress and talk, it was obvious most of them were from
Kampala.
The ladies had treated or braided hair, painted nails, bleached faces and
carried their luggage in expensive portable suitcases commonly used for
carrying hand luggage by air travellers.
Almost everyone carried a mobile phone, either in a pouch around the
waist, or hanging on a chain around the neck.
They hardly used their real names, preferring nicknames like Designer,
Ma-round, Dealer, Maama baby, Nalongo or Salongo.
Later when we started interacting, I discovered that most of them were
traders working in central Kampala and living in suburbs like Kawempe,
Bwaise and Kyebando.
On arrival we were introduced to a silver-bearded elderly man, whose name
we later learnt was Kiwanuka Ntambizamukama, younger brother and deputy to
the Omusiige (chosen one) Sabakabona (chief priest), Sebyayi Kyabangi.
Our host led us inside the enclosure where preparations for the pilgrimage
were already in high gear.
There were several huge circular grass-thatched huts the enclosure, each
representing one of the 52 clans of Buganda.
The whole place was swarming with people. Some were seated in small groups
puffing away contentedly at their pipes, others were dancing away to the
throbbing beats of traditional drums, at the upper end of the enclosure,
next to a flag pole and an open fire.
The whole enclosure was covered in a thick cloud of smoke from the open
fires and the numerous smoking pipes, which reduced visibility to the
extent that I could not identify the three bespectacled young men, perched
on a rock a few metre away.
But from the way they kept aloof from the rest of the pilgrims and the
designer perfumes they wore, I concluded they belonged to a different
social class.
The only thing they seemed to share with the rest of the pilgrims was the
addiction to the smoking pipe. Almost everyone in the enclosure carried
one; tucked in the bra, hooked in the belt, or stowed away in the trouser
pockets.
The pipes came in all shapes and sizes; some had long stems, others short,
and yet others had their stems artistically adorned with multi-coloured
beads.
According to our host, besides having a soothing effect on a restless
mind, smoking the pipe facilitates communication between the smoker and
his or her ancestors. The pipe puts the smoker into a meditative state,
during which important spiritual revelations often take place.
We had been advised to remove our shoes, since we were treading on holy
ground. However, after taking a few steps on the rocky terrain with our
bare feet, we decided to keep on ours, hoping the gods would not notice
them in the dark.
Volunteer ushers, dressed in bark cloth cloaks, with sashes made out of
cowrie shells stringed together and worn across the chest, kept moving up
and down among the pilgrims, to advise the newcomers on what to do, and
generally make them feel comfortable.
Outside the enclosures, some enterprising women from the nearby villages
had set up makeshift restaurants, serving tea, yams, bananas, katogo,
porridge, munanansi (pineapple juice) plus bottled drinks like beer, soda
and spirits.
That is where we sneaked off to have our supper, as we were not so sure
the matooke and meat meal generously provided by Jjajja Walussi did not
have some spiritual strings attached.
The time between 6:00pm and midnight was set aside for introductions;
pilgrims getting to know each other’s names, clans and places of origin.
There was an elderly couple that had travelled all the way from Jamaica,
to pay homage to Jjajja Walussi.
I almost jumped out of my skin, when a dread-locked fellow called me by
name.
On realising that I was in shock, he quickly introduced himself as a
fellow Lumumbist, during the early 1990s when we were both students at
Makerere University.
It was his third pilgrimage, but it was his first time to tell his wife
where he was going.
Between the introductions, the pigrims sang traditional songs that are
usually sung during the Baganda ceremony of initiating twins (okwalula/okumala
abalongo), accompanied by drums and dancing. Everyone seemed to be in high
spirits.
As midnight approached, the pilgrims started praying to Jjajja Walussi,
thanking him for seeing them through the year that was about to end, and
also asking for his blessings in the new year.
At the stroke of midnight, a special drum (omubala) was sounded to mark
the beginning of a very important ceremony in the preparation for the
pilgrimage, whereby the pilgrims individually pledge their lives (okwewonga)
to Jjajja Walussi.
With the men on one side, and the women on the other, they knelt before a
blazing fire that signifies Jjajja Walussi’s presence, and started
declaring their achievements in the previous year and aspirations during
the next one, all the while tossing coffee beans, groundnuts and simsim
into the fire.
With so many people talking at the same time, some in whispers, others
loudly, and yet others hysterically, it was hard to work out who was
saying what.
We were offered some roast groundnuts and simsim, another generous gift
from Jjajja Walussi, with the option of either eating it, or tossing it in
the fire.
I ate mine. The combined aroma of burnt coffee beans, simsim, groundnuts,
tobacco and incense, filled the air, giving the pilgrims that heady
feeling of spiritual intoxication.
Finally the Omusiige Ssabakabona, issued the objective for the new year,
the first one being to befriend the media, so that they start giving
publicity to the activities that take place at Walussi. Our participation
in the pilgrimage was taken as a positive step in achieving that
objective.
The other objective was to promote peace and harmony in the world, and to
try to appease the gods through sacrifices and offerings, so that he can
take away the numerous diseases and calamities that have afflicted mankind
during the previous years.
Finally, Jjajja Walussi appealed to the pilgrims, to do everything
possible to promote traditional faith and also encouraged parents to
instill traditional values in their children. Actually there were several
children, including a few babies, who were taking part in the pilgrimage.
For the rest of the night, pilgrims continued praying, singing and
dancing, until daybreak, when the second phase of the preparation for the
pilgrimage started.
Carrying jerrycans, bottles, even metallic mugs, the pilgrims headed for
the nnombe (springs) to fetch water for ritual bathing.
According to our host, there are 97 springs in the forest, which never dry
up, even during the most severe drought.
On the way to Nnombe, we had to make a stop over, to pay homage at the
shrine of one of the traditional gods. On learning that this particular
was renowned for his generosity, one of the pilgrims immediately demanded
for a car. “Jjajja njagala okudda wano nga nevuga, (Granny, the next
time I come here I should be driving my own car),” he made his wish.
The wells, we were warned, were out of bounds to women who were in their
periods. After collecting the water, we were instructed to make two grass
crowns, depositing one at the trunk of a huge tree called Kabalira, while
chanting
“I hearby deposit here all other people’s burdens that had been
imposed on me, to continue only with mine”.
After offloading other people’s burdens, we then used the second crown
to carry ours, plus the water for ritual bathing.
The bathing took place in the court of Jjajja Ssewamala Musoke who,
according to our host, was the first man on earth; the equivalent of the
biblical Adam.
The ritual bathing was done behind the shrine that houses his remains,
which are in form of a rock. The omusiige's wife administered the bathing
rite, which was carried out behind a bark cloth screen held up by two
young men, who had to strictly keep their faces turned way from the
bathers.
The pilgrims would pour their water into a rock depression shaped like a
bathtub, for the communal bathing.
For the sake of privacy, the two sexes were supposed to bathe separately,
with the women going in first.
However, when the women decided to take their time, the men became
impatient and joined them. The bathing continued peacefully, each sex
carefully avoiding eye and body contact with the other, as this would
render them unclean.
The pilgrims, who had started warming up to us, were openly disappointed
when we refused to join them in the bathing ritual. We, however, promised
to go all the way the next time.
After the bathing, we were served a sumptuous breakfast of matooke,
potatoes, yams and meat, again courtesy of Jjajja Walussi, to fortify us
for the tough trek ahead of us. At around midday, we all assembled in
front of the Omusiige’s hut for the final blessing, before the
pilgrimage.
In the past it used to take place at night. However, the organisers later
had to change it to daytime for security reasons and to avoid being
mistaken for night dancers.
We were about 100 pilgrims, stripped from head to waist, and from the toes up to the knees. According to Mzee Kiwanuka Ntambizamukama, the pilgrims have to expose their bodies to the sun’s rays, so that the gods can easily identify them by their unique birthmarks.
The dress code was strictly a black pair of shorts or trousers rolled up above the knees, with the rest of the body exposed. For the ladies, a pair of black shorts, skirt, or any other piece of clothing wrapped around the waist, with the rest of the body exposed.
It was easy to tell the first timers. They kept on trying to cover their
breasts, while the veterans just left theirs to fly in the winds.
Some of the pilgrims had smeared ghee all over their bodies, then
sprinkled them with simsim, making them glisten in the midday heat.
One by one, we filed into the main shrine, through the front door, and out
through the back door. Right behind the shrine was a big tree with two
Y-shaped branches between which we had to pass, after placing an offering
of coffee beans in its trunk.
Since the gods have no value for money, we had bought some coffee beans
from a lady at the foot of the hill. Some pilgrims had brought along
fruits like bananas to offer to the gods, and ghee to smear on the rocks
in which the gods resided.
Finally we hit the winding stony trail. It takes a combination of mental
and physical stamina, to make it to the top of Walussi hill.
Like it is with all holy lands, rocks and thorny shrubs cover the slopes
of Walussi Hhill.
There were several stations along the trail, where the pilgrims had to
make a stopover to pay homage to the resident traditional god, represented
by a huge rock or boulder.
According to our host, Walussi hill is the centre of the universe; a
showground of sorts, where heavenly goings-on are exhibited, or reflected
in earthly forms. It the biblical Eden, where the first man from heaven
landed.
That man was called Musoke Ssewamala, and he is the father of all mankind.
Walussi was a human being, belonging to the elephant clan. His original
home was in Kyampisi Kyaggwe Kiwumu, from where he would make annual
pilgrimages to the hill, each lasting between four and six month.
After Walussi, people from Kyaggwe continued making pilgrimages to the
hill, which was named after him. On May 24, 1972, Walussi’s successor,
Omusiige Ssabakabona Sebyayi Kyabangi moved permanently to Walussi hill,
and set up a home where people with problems could come for consultation
and guidance.
Mainly by word of mouth, more and more people got to know about the hill,
leading to a steady growth in the number of pilgrims visiting it.
According to our host, during the bush war, president Yoweri Museveni,
Kabaka Ronald Mutebi II, and Prince Juuko made a pilgrimage to Walussi
hill, where they were given spiritual troops, to fight alongside regular
the NRA soldiers.
However, the president was supposed to return to Walussi after the war, to
officially hand over the spiritual troops that had been lent to him. Apparently he has not done that and, according to Mzee Kiwanuka, that is
why the war in the north is not ending; the spiritual troops are still
fighting.
Although we had set off as a group, we soon started breaking into smaller
groups, as the rocky terrain and the heat started taking its toll us.
Water became an essential commodity, sold at sh100 a mug by some
enterprising locals. From its brown colour and suspicious taste, it was
obvious it had not been boiled.
Out of sheer determination, rather than physical fitness, everyone made it
to Kiwekyambogo, which was our final destination. It consisted of a narrow
ledge, standing against a steep rock face, which makes up the neck of
Walussi hill.
Looking at the pilgrims stretched out on the rocky ground to catch their
breath, it was hard not to marvel at the power of the human spirit.
Several of the ladies were heavily pregnant. One or two had their babies
strapped to their bare backs. Then there were these little kids who kept
skipping from one rock to another like mountain goats.
It was soon time to make the final sacrifice. After fetching firewood to
stoke the fire we had found burning on the ledge, the pilgrims lined up,
men on one side and women on the other, to toss into the fire, whatever
gifts they had brought for Jjajja Walussi.
At the end of the rituals, we retraced our way down the hill, going through the Omusiige’s hut.
Published : New Vision, Sunday, 15th January, 2006
