The Tragic Tale of Kiteezi: When the Mountain of Waste Came Crashing Down

The Tragic Tale of Kiteezi: When the Mountain of Waste Came Crashing Down

By Davis Owomugisha.

owomugishadavie@gmail.com

In the heart of Lusanja, lies Kiteezi village, infamous for being the ultimate dumping ground for all the domestic and household wastes of the bustling Kampala metropolitan. It’s a chaotic business hub where waste collectors gather to pitch their services, and every day, trucks laden with refuse roll in, lining up to unload their burdens.

As you approach Lusanja, you’re greeted by vendors shouting, "Emari eze!" which translates to, "Stock has come!" It’s a bustling, noisy place, almost lively. On sunny days, you might even forget you’re near a dumping site. The sun masks the odors and hides the grime. But when the rains come, the true face of Kiteezi is revealed—a face marred by disaster.

This August, the heavens opened, and disaster struck. A mountain of waste, precariously piled, gave way, burying people and homes beneath it. The scene was heart-wrenching. Families lost everything. Lives were tragically cut short. The nation watched in shock and sorrow as the magnitude of the tragedy unfolded. The government, caught off-guard, is now scrambling to decide the next course of action.

For years, stakeholders have warned of this potential catastrophe. Experts sounded alarms, predicting that such an event was only a matter of time. But their warnings fell on deaf ears. The cries for proactive measures were met with indifference, and now, we are paying the price.

Imagine this: on a typical day, children would play around the edges of the dump, their laughter blending with the shouts of vendors. Men and women busied themselves, earning a living from the refuse of others. It was a strange, symbiotic relationship. But beneath the surface, danger lurked. The waste mountain, towering and unstable, was a silent beast, waiting for the right moment to unleash its fury.

But wait, there’s more! Kiteezi isn’t just a dumping ground; it’s also a bustling marketplace. You see, most of the waste dumped here doesn’t stay put. Enterprising businessmen, armed with gloves and a nose for a deal, scour the piles of rubbish for treasures. Supermarket rotisserie chicken, slightly past its prime, is collected and taken back to Kampala shops for resale. Yes, you read that right. The very same chicken you see glistening under the supermarket lights might have had a brief layover in Kiteezi.

But that’s not all. Clothes discarded by the rich who pass away in hospitals find a second life here. These garments, some still in excellent condition, are picked up, cleaned, and sold in bustling markets as “pre-loved” fashion. It’s a macabre cycle of reuse and recycle, with Kiteezi at its heart.

One local, known for his sharp wit, quipped, “In Kiteezi, nothing goes to waste—even waste itself has value!” And he’s right. The entrepreneurial spirit here is unmatched. Businessmen navigate the heaps of garbage like treasure hunters, each hoping to strike gold—or at least a pair of designer jeans.

But beneath the humor lies a harsh reality. When the waste mountain collapsed, it buried not just people and homes but also the livelihoods of those who depend on this peculiar economy. The scene was a mix of tragedy and dark comedy. One man, knee-deep in refuse, exclaimed, “We always knew this place was a dump, but now it’s a burial ground too!” It’s a coping mechanism, a way to find light in the darkest of times.

The aftermath is a grim tableau of destruction. Rescue workers sift through the rubble, searching for survivors. Families huddle together, mourning their losses. The stench of decay hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of wet earth. It’s a sobering reminder of the price of neglect.

In the midst of this tragedy, there are moments of dark humor. One resident, knee-deep in mud, remarked, “We always knew this place was a dump, but this is ridiculous!” It’s a coping mechanism, a way to find light in the darkest of times.

The tale of Kiteezi is a wake-up call. It’s a stark reminder that ignoring a problem doesn’t make it go away. As a nation, we must heed the warnings of experts and take action before another tragedy strikes. The voices of Kiteezi’s residents, once drowned out by the noise of daily life, now echo with a painful clarity. They remind us that beneath the surface, danger always lurks, waiting for its moment to strike.

Let the story of Kiteezi be a lesson to us all. Let it stir our hearts and minds to action. And let us never again turn a deaf ear to the warnings that could save lives.

 

When the Mountain of Waste Came Crashing Down

Screenplay

**INT. LOCAL BAR – EVENING**

The bar is dimly lit, with a few patrons scattered around. The bartender, JUMA, wipes the counter while chatting with the regulars. JOHN and PETER sit at a table, nursing their drinks.

**JOHN:**

(Dramatically)

Did you hear what happened at Kiteezi today?

**PETER:**

(Sips his drink)

What now? Another truckload of mystery meat?

**JOHN:**

Worse. The whole mountain of trash just collapsed!

**PETER:**

(Spits out drink)

You’re joking! The whole mountain?

**JOHN:**

(Serious)

I’m dead serious. It’s like Godzilla stomped through town. People are buried, homes destroyed. It’s chaos!

**PETER:**

(Sarcastically)

Well, I always said that place was a ticking time bomb. Guess it finally went off.

**JOHN:**

(Sighs)

Yeah, and you know what’s worse? They say some of the stuff from there ends up back in Kampala shops.

**PETER:**

(Laughs)

You mean my rotisserie chicken might have had a vacation in Kiteezi?

**JOHN:**

(Grinning)

Wouldn’t surprise me. Those businessmen see a half-rotten chicken and think, ‘Just a little extra spice, and it’s gourmet!’

**PETER:**

(Shaking head)

No wonder my chicken had that ‘special’ flavor. And don’t get me started on the clothes. I bought a jacket there last week—might have belonged to a rich dead guy!

**JOHN:**

(Chuckles)

Hey, at least you’re wearing something with history. Vintage!

**PETER:**

(Smirking)

Yeah, if only it didn’t smell like history too.

**JUMA:**

(Leaning over the bar)

You two hear about the guy who found a diamond ring in the trash? Sold it for a fortune!

**JOHN:**

(Raising an eyebrow)

Really? That’s either the best or worst treasure hunt ever.

**PETER:**

(Laughs)

Yeah, but now the whole place is a disaster zone. People are saying it’s a sign. Maybe it’s time we stop ignoring the problem.

**JOHN:**

(Nods)

The government needs to step up. This isn’t just a garbage issue anymore; it's a crisis. Who knew trash could be so dangerous?

**PETER:**

(Rolling eyes)

And ironic. We’ve been dumping our problems there for years, and now the problems have dumped on us. Literally.

**JUMA:**

(Chuckles)

Maybe next time, we should invest in sturdier trash mountains. Or at least listen to the experts.

**JOHN:**

(Smiling)

Yeah, who knew Kiteezi would teach us such a smelly lesson?

**PETER:**

(Raises glass)

Here’s to cleaner days ahead! And to avoiding any more Kiteezi chicken.

**JOHN:**

(Clinking glasses)

Amen to that. And maybe we can find a new place to get our bargains—one that doesn’t involve playing trash roulette!

**PETER:**

(Grinning)

Sounds like a plan. Now, who’s up for some fresh farm chicken?

**JOHN:**

(Laughs)

Lead the way! And this time, let’s make sure it’s straight from the farm, not the dump!

The three of them laugh and finish their drinks, the bar buzzing with the latest gossip about Kiteezi.

**FADE OUT**

**END OF SCENE*