Two visions of Uganda frame a future blighted by unmet past promise

Greetings from the hill of the impala, present-day Kampala, which is enwrapped in mist as I write. It's raining, even though no one has promised El-Nino flooding here. I have a panoramic view of the city, so I have dispatched postcard vistas to all and sundry, eliciting a resounding affirmation of Kampala as well-designed and orderly. My response: It's a facade; what you see is not what you get...

My tourist's lenses, of course, are too blinded to offer a solid assessment of Sseboland. Since my early Tuesday morning KQ flight, which means I had to rouse at the hour I'd typically retire from my nocturnal forays, all I dreamt of was a nice, hour-long nap on the flight.