In Uganda we use energy, in Holland they use brain

Workers’ bikes which they ride to office every day. People park their bikes in front of their workplaces during office hours and pick them and ride home after work. Photo by Patrick Matsiko wa Mucoori 

In Summary

RARITY. The Hague compared to Kampala are two different worlds, writes Patrick Matsiko wa Mucoori.

The contrasting faces of life confronted me while I visited The Hague two weeks ago. My chauffeur picked me up at Schiphol Airport. As we drove to The Hague, we had a brief chat about our nationalities. He is Iraqi, in his late 30s who left his country 20 years ago. He looked comfortable in a foreign country. As I internalized all this, he interrupted my thoughts informing me we had reached the hotel, Carlton Ambassador Hotel in the heart of The Hague.

After checking-in
My experience in The Hague was beginning to unfold. I took a stroll in front of my hotel to catch a few sights. The streets presented an irresistible sight, so I picked out my phone and took snaps of the city and scribbled some notes. On my way back, a car carrying a man and woman pulled up. I jerked a bit. The occupants waved to me suggesting “don’t worry, no danger”.

They were Dutch police officers who had been tipped about a stranger taking photographs on the streets in a Diplomat zone. Given the terror attacks that had hit Brussels in the past week and some agents suspected to have participated in the strikes had been arrested at Amsterdam that morning, the security consciousness was high. I walked past them. The policewoman signalled me to come over. I’m I in trouble with the police hardly six hours in a foreign country where I had gone for a reporting conference on peace, security and justice? I thought. This could only be the handiwork of a witch in some ssabo (shrine) in either Bukunja or in Rakai.

Face-to-face with the law
The police officers asked why I had been taking photos in sensitive area. I asked them how they knew I had been taking snaps on the street. They answered in a manner that did not invite further questioning about their operational methods. The futility and risk of my response were clear. I introduced myself as a journalist from Uganda who had just arrived in The Hague for the first time and had been struck by the beauty of their city.

The policewoman asked whether I had any identification document which I surrendered. I was reluctant to volunteer my passport; I would do that only on demand. This politeness does not imply weakness. Should you breach any security procedure, you won’t receive any lenience. They neither panic nor compromise unlike our cops.

The policewoman looked at my ID and had a brief consultation in their native language, they photographed it and told me that was all and returned it to me. They said they were sorry for the inconvenience but explained that being a residential area for diplomats, it is a sensitive security place and any suspicious action in the area would attract prompt attention. I was now discharged and free to proceed. What! I was overwhelmed by their politeness and simplicity in the midst of live security threats. Then my eyes quickly looked back at the Uganda police. What would have happened if it had been the Uganda Police? I got hallucinations of a patrol truck of mean-looking armed police with automatic sub-machine guns, with rounds of bullets strapped around their bodies. Before even identifying myself, they have clobbered. They have not told me the wrong I have committed and they don’t know it either. My clothes have already been shredded and being bundled under the metallic seats of the dirty and rusty deck of the truck probably with a broken limb. I’m likely to spend a day in jail without a charge or my ID.

Meanwhile the conference for which I was invited is already in progress. I went thinking about this contrast up to my hotel room. I was still recovering from these scaring visions when I was woken up that it was time for dinner and the hosts were waiting in the hotel lobby. The political and public service level. In Uganda you might be lynched for suggesting that a minister or MP can ride a bicycle to work.

In The Netherlands, all people are equal in the sense of perception not possessions. Ministers, judges and other high profile personalities ride their bicycles to and from work. They also line up with other people in coffee shops to wait for their turn to be served. If they use their cars, they drive themselves. No security guard, driver, no nothing. The taxpayer cannot be burdened to pay for the luxury of leaders. Security is for all, and they must drive themselves, like others for they are not disabled. Every taxpayer’s penny must be spent for value.

High profile personality
It is almost shocking to believe that the President of the International Court of Justice in The Hague, UN court, has no escort, drives himself, fuels his own car and sometimes rides a bicycle to work. The ICJ institution has one official car with a driver who only drives the President of the court on such important functions like meeting the prime minister or for annual official functions. And the driver must record the time of departure and return. The belief in absolute accountability and utilitarianism is unbelievable. The reasoning in this country is that money would rather be spent on procuring other pressing resources you need to do your work better. It is real two worlds on same planet.

The chambers
I had the opportunity to visit the chambers of our own on the ICJ panel, Justice Julia Sebutinde, at the Peace Palace building in The Hague. She has been relieved of the Ugandan privileges of an escort, driver, official vehicle and housing allowance for a judge. In her chambers at The Hague, Justice Sebutinde has only an office assistant to help her with some office errands. She does virtually all the work herself. She drives herself, fuels her car and has no bodyguard. I was amazed at the humble life she lives as a judge of an international UN court. Her car is an equivalent of a Scooter in the motorcycle family. It is a two-seater with little space behind the seats that can hardly accommodate a crate of soda.

The International Court of Justice has one official car which is used by the court’s President only for official functions like meting the king or the prime minister. He too has no escort, drives own car, buys own fuel and sometimes rides his bicycle to adjudicate international cases. This applies to even government officials including cabinet ministers.