In a remote Ugandan region, a sacred circumcision ritual faces a contentious test of purity

NEAR MOUNT ELGON, Uganda — Dancers shook their hips to the beat of drums leading the way, anticipating the start of mass circumcision among the Bamasaaba people of mountainous eastern Uganda.

However, the frolic in the streets belied a dispute brewing behind the scenes when some locals questioned their king over the very public presentation of Imbalu, the ritualized circumcision of thousands of boys every two years in this remote community near the border. of Uganda with Kenya.

Could it become a carnival, organized before the eyes of foreigners? Or should it remain a sacred ceremony in which families silently prepare their children to bravely face the knife?

The king, known as Umukuuka, had his way before the August 3 opening ceremony in a park in the city of Mbale, advocating for a traditional festival that would also appear attractive to visitors. Imbalu organizers received more than $120,000 in financial support from the Ugandan government and a corporate sponsor.

In an interview with the AP, Umukuuka said organizing a modern Imbalu was a challenge and defended his decision to market the ritual as a tourism event in line with Uganda’s national development plan.

“Everything is changing as the population grows. People may not manage to follow cultural processes,” he said, citing economic difficulties and commercialization that he said were diluting the community aspect of Imbalu. “But we are fighting through the clan system so that (Imbalu) remains intact.”

But the Ugandan government’s intervention has raised eyebrows among many Bamasaaba and underlined angst over the most important ceremony for this ethnic group of four million Ugandans. Some who spoke to the AP said they felt Umukuuka, in his first year in office, was trivializing Imbalu by exposing it to outside interests.

“Our leadership is being hijacked by” national political leaders, said Wasukira Mashate, an elder who is custodian of Bamasaaba cultural property, accusing the Umukuuka of not relying on the advice of clan leaders with true spiritual authority.

“I don’t think they are playing any role” in Imbalu, he said, referring to clan leaders. “It was for our own cultural benefit, but now it is becoming a national event because the Ugandan government has caught on to it.”

At the inauguration ceremony, an angry crowd gathered in front of the totemic shrine of the clan that has historically cast Imbalu by eliminating early candidates. Clansmen noted that the young crossbred bull tied to the grass was offensive and said that only a local breed would suffice as a proper sacrifice to the gods.

“This cow is exotic. We are Bamasaaba and he brought us a white animal,” said Kareem Masaba, speaking of the Umukuuka. “He has insulted us. His predecessors used to enter the shrine and participate in the rituals, but this man will not come here. “He is disrespecting us.”

The dispute over the slaughtered animal delayed the takeover until late afternoon as anger grew among the men wielding machetes, sharpened sticks and other crude weapons. The Umukuuka, sitting not far away in a tent among dignitaries from other parts of Africa, did not move. The clansmen retaliated by refusing to present the first group of initiates to the Umukuuka, a former forestry officer whose real name is Jude Mudoma.

Mass circumcisions will last until the end of 2024.

The tribal initiation of boys into adulthood has long been controversial in African countries such as South Africa, where incidents of botched and fatal circumcisions among Xhosa-speaking people have inspired campaigns for safe clinical circumcision. Among the Bamasaaba, whose cutting method is equally violent, there has been no call to end the practice. Strong supporters see Imbalu as more important than ever amid widespread infant circumcision in hospitals. They say children who are not initiated into the tribal path risk lifelong social delinquency.

Tribal circumcision is performed by a traditional surgeon wielding a knife usually made from melted nails. Bamasaaba, hundreds of kilometers away in Kampala, Uganda’s capital, is known to hunt down Imbalu evaders and then forcibly cut them down. The bodies of uncircumcised men may be raped before burial.

Circumcision “helps us be strong,” said Peter Gusolo, a traditional surgeon, gesticulating to express the supposed sexual prowess of his people. Those who resist circumcision will be cut off “even if they are dying,” he said. “We circumcised you at night. We will bury you in the morning.”

He added: “We cannot bury you in the land of Bamasaaba without (being circumcised). No, no, no. It is in the constitution of the culture of the Bamasaaba. … It is a curse if you bury uncircumcised people in the ground.”

Gusolo, whose family lives in a hillside house planted with Arabica coffee trees, spent days isolating himself in a cave and postponing intimacy with his wife so he could become possessed by the spirit of Imbalu. Although men like Gusolo possess certificates issued by local health authorities to demonstrate his ability, the title is hereditary. Surgeons say they cannot afford to be frivolous in their work because the wounds they inflict will not heal if they are not spiritually strong.

The first candidate for initiation this year was a teenager with his face smeared with mud and dregs of home brew. He spread his legs and unblinkingly looked at the sky as a swarm of frantic people around him pushed and pushed, demanding courage. The surgeon, without applying anesthesia, grabbed the child and skinned him with a quick movement of his hands. A member of the boy’s family, in order to protect him from the threat of witchcraft, collected his skin and took it home.

Emmanuel Watundu, father of a 17-year-old who was among the first to be cut, said he supported Imbalu and described it as the life-changing event his son asked for. But he criticized what he saw as a carnival atmosphere by “groups of peers (who) normally behave differently than we used to.”

Outside Watundu’s house, where a crowd had gathered, drunk people of all ages danced wildly and one woman briefly exposed her breasts. A politician seeking a seat in the national assembly made a procession along the dirt road. The boys caressed the girls and swung their legs.

Watundu said the street dancers he saw were “from different areas” and that most of the people who attended Imbalu came “to do business.” He said the Ugandan government’s involvement had “cast a bad light” on Umukuuka’s role as Imbalu’s main organiser.

Wilson Watira, who chaired the Imbalu organizing committee, defended the government’s role as defender of the Bamasaaba tradition. The exuberant street processions made people feel joyful, he said.

“When it comes to the performance of culture, of culture itself… it is still culture. We just want to show the world that even when we practice this culture, we can also attract other people,” he said.

In the past, people thought the ritual was barbaric and brutal, Watira said.

“It’s the reason we said, ‘No, we’re not barbarians. We can make this very attractive and you will enjoy it.’”

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