Africa-Press – Uganda. My secondary school didn’t have a very good volleyball team. I actually don’t remember the school participating in any serious competitions apart from the interhouse games where almost everyone who was fit enough and felt like they could jump and swing a hand, took to the court.
This went on for a while until – and I don’t know what informed the decision – we turned up at school one term and found these giants that had been admitted on a volleyball scholarship.
One had a foot so huge that I remember a friend fitting his Bata shoe into the guy’s sneakers. Suddenly, the school was taking part in competitions and winning them. The fellows who had been prancing around the courts moved on to other things, resorted to playing for leisure or simply sitting by the courts to watch the maestros get their game on.
Many people reading this might remember the same thing from their high schools. Basically, you could participate in any sport just because you wanted – or were required to – but when it came to the school team, you sort of knew your place and left that to those who were a cut above everyone else. It didn’t just happen with sports alone – debate, poetry and essay writing, music, dance and drama, or whatever else your school had.
The issue of merit and superiority was honoured to the extent that sportsmen could get away with a little more infraction than other students were allowed. It was generally agreed that what they brought to the table, by way of prestige and bragging rights over other schools somewhat compensated for the occasional waywardness.
To get onto the team – athletics, football, cricket, rugby, et al – you needed to be the best of the rest. It didn’t matter whether your father was a member of the school board, the coach or cook, you wouldn’t get a seat on the bus or slot on the court if you didn’t merit it.
What this meant was that all of us trusted and supported the teams and individuals to represent us well, because we knew that they had earned their places.
Nobody sulked or felt that it should have been them and not the people who were on court. That’s basically how merit-based system works – those who are most qualified to do the job are always deployed where they will be most productive.
Those who aren’t (as) qualified accept their place in the hierarchy and simply cheer on without ever feeling like they could do a better job. Even when those entrusted with the responsibility of representation fail or underperform, you can only feel sad but still, comforted by the knowledge that if they couldn’t get it right then perhaps nobody else can.
But that’s not how politics works, unfortunately. It is not uncommon for the least qualified person to get the job simply because “they managed to con a block of people to vote for them.” Sometimes, fate will have intervened to ensure that they don’t get the job but the appointing authority will somehow inexplicably hand them responsibility still.
The problem with this is that public office – unlike interhouse competitions – involves stewardship over public resources and making decisions about people’s lives and futures. So, if you somehow get elected or appointed to office, the responsibility to get things right and ensure that the people win cannot be taken casually.
It also doesn’t help that people know you aren’t there on merit so they are unforgiving of your inadequacies. Because you lack depth, even nonentities and others who are as unqualified as you are also go online and claim that they can do a better job than you ever could.
There are so many examples to pick from if you are Ugandan but if you know you know. Also, from what I hear, the problem of the wrong fellow ending up in the wrong job isn’t unique to us.
Even without naming names, you just have to think of all the times you complain about or get angered and frustrated by all the things that aren’t getting done right in Uganda. Every wrong hire makes work harder for others – who have to carry double the load or constantly defend the mess ups.
It also certainly pushes winning farther away from reach. To field the right people or keep embarrassing ourselves with these own goals?
Mr Rukwengye is the founder, Boundless Minds. @Rukwengye
