The SPIRITUAL SENSE, Mugambe and Nakuya| Walussi Mountain

THE SPIRITUAL SENSE

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THE SPIRITUAL SENSE

Mugambe & Nakuya

Walussi Mountain

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Spirituality as one of the senses or sensors. We call it the power of foreseeing, it is the spiritual

sense to help us to see things in a different way. I may say in a crazy way, sometimes.

It’s the sense of spirituality that helps us to understand the inner thinking of almost everything.

It’s the sense that helps us to foresee what the rest will never see.

It’s the same sense that helps us to look at a sign and understand what it means, be it on

anything, people, animals, trees, etc.

It’s the sense of spirituality that calls upon us to take a closer look at some of the things to

understand the purpose for which they were created and pulls us closer to them so that we learn

to love them in a different way because it’s that sense that tells us that we are partners in life not

masters.

It’s the sense of spirituality that helps us to know for what purpose and for what reason each

person and everything were created and it’s the same sense that helps us to love ourselves though

we are living in a world of racial discrimination. It’s that sense that helps us to see value in

ourselves and find our true destiny.

It’s that sense that helps us to awake the sleeping soul in someone and unveil the ability and

potential it has and how it can be put to full use for his or her benefit and the rest around

(community).

When the spiritual sense is lost so are the five senses plus intuition too are laid to rest because

they are all driven by the spiritual sense.

It’s a situation where people use their eyes only to look but can't see and observe, use their ears

to hear but can't listen, they touch but can't hold, they smell but don’t know what a scent is, they

feel, but can't tell their fate.

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When spiritual sense is lost, intuition is useless because you may feel that something is going to

happen and a sign may appear to you, but it’s the spiritual sense that helps us to be observant.

It’s the spiritual that keeps our intuition alive.

Apart from man, the rest of the animals, insects, inclusive still have all their senses plus the

spiritual sense. Intuition can also be found in animals, insects and plants.

Humans are in an "OBLIVIOUS" situation. Once the spiritual sense is lost, peace, love, faith and

common sense all disappear and that means the world is doomed.

Mugambe & Nakuya are Spiritualists at Walussi Mountain in central Uganda

THE SPIRITUAL SENSE




WALUSSI MOUNTAIN

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BACK TO THE ROOTS

Trekking to 'Heaven'

Andrew Ndawula

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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 all over 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.

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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.

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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

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each other 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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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The SPIRITUAL SENSE, Mugambe and Nakuya| Walussi Mountain

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