Philly Bongoley Lutaaya

In an extraction from poems of East Africa a poet writes that the world is left but to mourn when greatness dies a  simple death. But when greatness dies a justifiable course to me, then not all is in vain.

Of all the African stories, only one stand out, the story of diminishing appreciation. Of all the African songs and dances, poetry and recital, plays and public speeches, only one was mourned and appreciated for a season, and then forgotten, perhaps forever. Philly Lutaaya, remains a martyr, sung in silence, and whose soul lies quietly across the river Charon. His voice lingers though in music, in his speeches, and we forget about him only to be reminded during the AIDS day, when every body feigns affection and affiliation to the touched and wounded soul from the fight against the disease.

Philly Bongoley Lutaaya was born in 1951, he celebrated the independence, he saw the climax of the liberation of the African body and mind, he was a slave, a slave to stereotype, a slave to a world new to HIV and Aids a slave trying to understand his fate. When in readiness for death, and death seems the only way out the only thing left is acceptance. Accepting the predicament at hand, realising that your life is not being taken away, but you are offering it willingly. When Nelson Mandela cried that his son died of Aids the world stopped and listened, the world listens, because he bares greatness, when Lutaaya spoke, spoke through the African voice, music, he demanded that the world stop and realise that this was a pandemic that had to be tackled. His acceptance of his fate, and by fate then was the standard set by the un-enlightened notion that the fate of any “victim” was death. Segregation of a brother by community, detachment, made him more determined to play his role. Its no secret that then, life style had more to do with the spread, and most people suffered in silence. Lutaaya, realized he could not hide in the dark, he did spread his gospel of awareness, not spread HIV/AIDS

In his tour through Congo, Kenya , Sweden he brought the message through song, which are words shared in an appreciated way, he walked the paths, our path and ate with the socially neglected. His was a fight when no one dared not come close to patients who were set aside to die. From the fatigues of pre and post colonisation, it was yet a challenge to combat the growing pandemic, and with most African countries every body waited for the whole village to die and then it would be a pandemic. Lutaaya acted on his own will. He realised that If Aids was a person then the world would be calm, the disease unlike humans did not segregate, it affected every soul, gender, color and creed. He realised to fight the disease we had to be like the disease, positive. Positive in thought, in words and in action.

To many Philly Lutaaya gave his all before succumbing to the disease, but those he fought for only buried the body, and danced his songs in night clubs. Lutaaya is the hero we failed to honor, Lutaaya is the song and relic that we should look up to. In his most memorable song “alone” he realizes a need to solidify through thoughts and incarnate thoughts, action. IN the 80S when Lutaaya died, they died a painful death, they carried the scars and insults for the community. All that his soul wished was to be remembered through the fight. Lutaaya is the greatness that died a simple death.