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Author: Luise White
Title: "Firemen do not buy people": media, villains, and vampires in Kampala in the 1950s
Publication info: Ann Arbor, Michigan: MPublishing, University of Michigan Library

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Source: "Firemen do not buy people": media, villains, and vampires in Kampala in the 1950s
Luise White

Evanston, IL: Program of African Studies, Northwestern University
no. 8, pp. 11, 16-17, 1994
Issue title: Institute for Advanced Study and Research in the African Humanities: Media, Popular Culture, and 'the Public' in Africa
Author Biography: Luise White is a 1993-94 Research Fellow at the National Humanities Center, North Carolina.

"Firemen Do Not Buy People": Media, Villains, and Vampires in Kampala in the 1950s


In November and December 1953 Juma Kasolo, a Muganda resident of Katwe, stood trial for "abducting, capturing, and hiding" five women found in his house in Mengo. [1] On October 16, 1958 Nusula Bua, a northerner, was arrested for attempting to sell a man to the Kampala fire brigade for Shs. 1,500. The following February he was sentenced to three years in prison because, according to the presiding judge, a Muganda, it was his first offense. The prosecution claimed that Bua had approached a fireman and said he had someone to sell him; he said he had "about 100 people to sell." Bua's defense was that he had brought the man to the fire station to help him find a job, and once there, he was offered Shs. 1,500 for him. [2] A newspaper story alone did not guarantee lasting fame, however. Kasolo had been regarded with great horror and loathing before his arrest—according to one man, "when he was travelling in his car and it had mechanical problems, he would stay in the car while it was being repaired." [3] Nusula Bua never became part of oral lore, or if he was, he appeared and vanished without a trace I could discern.

How do people come to be arrested for abducting women, or trying to sell men? Local ideas that the firemen take African blood or hire Africans to capture Africans for them were prevalent in colonial Uganda and many parts of East Africa. [4] A generic oral Kampala vampire story goes something like this: starting in the early to mid-1920s until independence a few Africans, who often owned cars, captured other Africans, subdued them with drugs, and held them prisoner. They either sold them to a person or government department in Entebbe, the capital, or extracted their blood over a period of months. These bloodsuckers were known by the generic term bazimamoto—the men who extinguish the fire—throughout East African cities where firemen and vampires were synonymous, even when there was no formal fire brigade. A few informants were at great pains to distinguish whether the bazimamoto were actually the receivers of the blood or those who secured it for others. The bazimamoto, according to most, were the white people who purchased the blood, not those Africans who did the work of capture, who were often named in oral accounts: "Kasolo was not bazimamoto but an agent of bazimamoto, they were different types of people." [5] There was little confusion about who these people were, and no conflation of unscrupulous men about town with the men said to capture people. When I mistakenly asked if these men were agents of the bazimamoto, I was corrected. [6]

This essay is about how these different stories were reported or not reported in different media: which stories made the newspapers, and which newspapers, and which remained part of oral testimonies. By the late 1950s The Uganda Argus—which until the mid-1950s had been the Herald, published three times a week—was the only English-language newspaper available in Kampala. It was partly European-financed. Of the 24 others, ten were African-owned and financed and the rest funded by missions or government bodies. Seven were published monthly and three weekly; only the Argus was published daily. The largest circulation newspapers were in Luganda. Both the African Pilot, published Monday and Thursday, and Uganda Eyogera, published Tuesday and Friday, had an estimated circulation of 12,000 as opposed to 8,200 for the Argus. The Luganda Uganda Post was published Wednesday and Saturday and had a circulation of 9,000. Uganda Eyogera was founded in 1953 and became the mouthpiece of the Progressive Party when it was founded in 1955, although the editors did not always tow the line of the fairly conservative, protestant party consisting of clerks and minor Buganda officials. [7] Many such educated men read two newspapers regularly; some probably read more. [8]

Such newspaper readership speaks not only to wide-spread literacy but also to a level of political engagement and debate that many postcolonial states have tried hard to stifle. Such large newspaper readership and the content of those newspapers may also trouble our own distinctions between "rumor" and "news"—a distinction based on the idea that a printed word contains a degree of credibility and reliability that widespread gossip does not. According to the man who became editor of Uganda Eyogera in 1955, rumor was what people believed: "You hear a rumor, you believe in it, and then it has become a habit for people, and they cannot distinguish between rumor and truth ... even if you tell them the truth they will not take it because it is easier to believe the rumor." [9] But the very term "rumor" congeals distinctions between varieties of orally-transmitted information which contain in the telling an evaluation of reliability that might range from information from a locally reliable source to several gradations of fact and fiction. [10] Both rumors and truths were part of oral popular culture that was fractured and discordant, made up of a constellation of generic stories and aural images arranged into specific "stories about...." When stories appeared in print media, printed words could be adding something to new and revised oral "stories about...."

News, rumor, and newspapers

Years before his trial in 1953, Kasolo was well known in Kampala's African suburbs. He was, according to some, a driver by profession, but most of his income came from his work for the bazimamoto. Kasolo and others like him did the work of capturing Africans and either delivering them to the bazimamoto or allowing them to come and take blood from these victims. For older residents of Kampala, people born before 1915 or 1920, Kasolo was only known because he was "connected to these rumors." [11] "You would just hear of him from a distance...." [12] "Yes, Kasolo, they were talking about him ... we used to fear him very much because he took people and sold them and he would use any opportunity." [13]

Although his trial became a debate about whether or not he was married to two women or not—and thus raises important questions about the fluidity of urban marriage—Kasolo had been arrested because an angry group of men and women gathered at Kibuye Police Station and demanded that the parish chief of Katwe accompany them to Kasolo's house. The crowd wanted to go to Kasolo's house because one man had seen his sister, missing for quite a long time, inside. [14] Going to the police for help or to resolve disputes was not common in early 1950s Katwe, or in Mengo, the seat of royal government. The rule of law was, if anything, shaky. Southall and Gutkind did fieldwork in Kisenyi from January 1953 to March 1954. They described the fluidity with which thieves vanished into an urban landscape in which detectives, informers, and criminals were often the same people, their professional identities much more a matter of who was asking than of a statement about one's source of income. Blackmail, bribery, and connections to the royal family shaped the apprehension of criminals and recourse to the police. Brewers with a relationship to the king's household were never arrested, although virtually no brewers were arrested without informers' help. A man caught stealing a bicycle was beaten by a crowd; he offered the owner of the bicycle Shs. 100 not to go to the police. The owner demanded Shs. 200. The two finally settled on Shs. 175. [15]

In the case of Kasolo, the police may have been a last recourse, when rumor and gossip failed to contain the complex bundle of associations and ideas that Kasolo had come to mean. Kasolo's actual arrest and trial added a degree of rationality to the irrationality of vampires and their agents. As such the raid and trial did not resolve Kasolo's innocence or guilt or anything else; it simply indicated the limits of gossip and rumor as a way of resolving social tensions and crises. [16] According to Uganda Eyogera,

One beautiful-looking girl was found in the house and was immediately escorted to Mengo Police Station. Kasolo at that moment could not be traced. When the police searched again, they came upon five women who had been hidden in one room and it was believed they had been forced into that room.

A lot of people turned up at Kasolo's home, to see for themselves the women whose skin had turned pale and who were being kept in Kasolo's sitting room then. These five women who had been accustomed to darkness for a long time found it difficult to face the light.

These women were dressed up in different kinds of clothes ... the police said they were going to accuse Kasolo of the abduction of people.

Two ran away almost at once, and one simply vanished from newspaper accounts, but "From that day the whole town was full of rumor saying that Kasolo was a stupefier of several women. This is the talk today." [17]

These two sentences should trouble the distinction between "tabloid" and the kind of newspapers that are its opposite. Certainly, in colonial and postcolonial Africa, English-language newspapers are more accessible to elites, whoever they may be, than those written in local languages, but both require years of schooling to read, and both can be summarized for illiterate audiences. But where newspapers are sold only on the street, all but the most intensely subsidized need to appeal to popular sentiments. [18]

Nevertheless, the story of Kasolo does not appear in the Uganda Herald. While it is unlikely that the raid on a Katwe house would have made the English-language press in Kampala, the sentencings of various thieves were frequently third- and fourth-page news. Kasolo's trial, however, coincided with the events leading up to the deportation of the King of Buganda. This put Buganda news on the front page of several newspapers, but may have limited the space available to report African court proceedings. It is likely that the events of late 1953 increased newspaper readership, and newspapers had to be increasingly competitive and sometimes sensational to sell copies. Some aspects of the Buganda crisis were censored by the Kingdom's court: Paolo Kavuma, Prime Minister of Buganda, asked newspaper reporters not to publish the Lukiiko's letter rejecting federation—because the governor wanted to discuss it in England first—and only the Herald and the Luganda Uganda Post dissented. [19] Other newspapers may have presented Kingdom news in cryptic forms. As Misty Bastian has pointed out for Nigeria, tabloid and elite newspapers might carry different stories, but the issues and concerns of those stories may be the same. [20]

How was calling Kasolo a "stupefier" of popular interest and concern? In Kampala bazimamoto stories, trapping Africans with drugs, particularly chloroform, was commonplace. In the context of the newspaper story, "stupefier" was synoymous for a number of readers with agent of bazimamoto. The impact of chloroform on Africans was gendered: women reported being silenced by the drug and men claimed it made them unable to walk. When Kasolo was found two months later in the house of a "free woman" near his own, police surrounded the house. "Kasolo refused to come out saying that he felt muscle pain and therefore could not walk except if he was carried by police. He was therefore carried out of the house and dragged to Mengo Police Station...." [21]

In terms of popular culture, it is important to distinguish which parts of the Kasolo story were being told (as opposed labelling story parts "oral" or "written") before his arrest and which parts began to be told after the newspaper accounts of his arrest and trial. The lines are not hard and fast; it may be too mechanistic to see changes in oral expression as stemming from the newspaper stories. Whether or not Kasolo could actually walk may not be the issue: one man claimed that during the riots of 1949 both Kasolo's legs were fractured. Given the amount of intra-Baganda violence in those riots—400 officials' huts were burned in Mengo [22]—this does not seem unlikely. The way Kasolo talked about his own legs in the trial and his recourse to medical diagnosis to establish the condition of his legs played on a number of characteristics and tropes about the victims of bazimamoto. One of the things recalled frequently in oral accounts about Kasolo was that his legs were damaged. He tied rags on his own legs to get out of one legal obligation or another. "He used to tie a rotten rag on his leg to pretend he was mad, so he would not have to pay tax." [23] Another man who came to Kampala in 1947, when he was 25, denied that Kasolo abducted people, but allowed that he could not walk. "It was not like that, he was not arrested with some people as has been said, but he was involved in those riots [1949] and was beaten terribly and only escaped with his legs fractured." [24]

Kasolo played on these tropes of immobility, or at least the newspaper reporters did. When he was arraigned he said: "I am Juma Kasolo ... I am jobless and have been so ever since ... my legs have become paralysed." He claimed he was ill and was sent for a medical examination. "When Kasolo reached Mulago almost all the patients and indeed the entire population on Mulago Hill gathered around him to see who Kasolo was." The doctor examined him and found him fit enough to stand trial. [25] In bazimamoto stories, when victims were held captive by the bazimamoto or its agents, they were fed very well to keep them producing blood. Ten days into his trial, however,

Kasolo, in a cruel voice, complained that the judge was not listening to him. It was very sad to see that since he had been taken to prison he had not been given any food. He asked how the court expected him to answer his charges when he was so hungry. ... In fact he asked the judge how he would feel if he had not taken food for two days and whether the judge would have been able to listen to this case in such a condition. [26]

The stories and complaints men and women tell in a courtroom are not always those most advantageous to their cases. The images and "facts" and narratives with which defendants tell their stories may have multiple audiences in and out of the courtroom. [27] This is almost certainly the case with newspaper accounts of courtroom testimony. In the trial coverage in Uganda Eyogera, it appears that Kasolo, "the stupefier," was literally being inscribed through the charges against him and through "his own words."

The newspaper account of Kasolo's trial had a profound impact. In some of the oral accounts, people talked about the newspaper story as a way to organize their own recollections. According to one man, who was 13 at the time of the trial:

We read in the newspaper that somebody was caught having people illegally ... so the man was taken to court and his victims were six girls, in the range of ten to twenty-five years.... When it was brought out in court ... they wanted to know where those people came from. So the man was prosecuted and was sentenced to serve six months.... [28]

Others told Kasolo's story without reference to newspaper articles. One man, born in 1915, told the story with many of the motifs—pits in private homes and drugs—that were common to East African vampire stories.

Kasolo had some victims who managed to escape from his house ... then the people could prove that he was selling people.... He was well-known, and those that had been there said that he had dug some pits in his house, and he used to cover them with mats, and when you were trying to sit down you would find yourself in the hole, and I think he used some of their drugs, like caliform, as he was keeping them in one room ... they could not get out, but only be unconsciously moving there. [29]

Another man, who began working in Kampala in 1938 when he was twenty, told a version that took the newspaper account and elaborated on it with elements of local bazimamoto stories:

One day the government of Mengo investigated and they found some people unconscious in his house, they had their blood sucked from them. Ask anyone, they will tell you this story, ask anyone in Katwe ... they know this story very well because that person was selling blood.... Definitely Kasolo was in the business of selling people to the bazimamoto, and he was found red-handed with some women in his house, they were unconscious, or he would give them some body-building food, so they would recover, because he had already sucked blood from them. [30]

Such an account suggests that scholars need not fret about "feedback" or "adulteration" from written to oral texts. [31] Instead, I submit that oral and written accounts coexist. Storytellers and newspaper readers might each retell the Kasolo story using aspects of the oral and written versions; they elaborate on written material with oral and vice versa, but one kind of source does not overwhelm the other.

Kasolo's neighbors in Katwe, men and women born in about 1918, told more intimate stories. A woman said, "Kasolo was found with victims in his house and he was asked, what are these?" [32] A man said:

Not only did I hear about him, I saw him ... Kasolo, he was sucking blood.... He would capture people and take them to places where they would get their blood sucked, and that was his work.... When Mutesa II reigned he was taken to Mengo and the town clerk's office for having been found with six people in his house, and he was arrested. [33]

Katwe residents who were ten or twelve years younger knew the story as well. Men born in the early 1930s only knew the broad outlines of the story: "People used to fear him very much.... He was pretending to be a sick person, that he could not do anything ... because he didn't want to pay the graduated tax." [34] Indeed, a man born in 1934 who was working in Katwe in 1953 but living in Entebbe and commuting daily, was skeptical about the rumors. Not even a newspaper account could convince him of what he did not understand.

Kasolo was an intelligent fellow indeed, who was dealing in buying ... and selling old spare parts ... there was a rumor that he used to sell people but whenever we went to buy things we never saw anybody sold, but he would just brag that people said I am selling people, but no one was missing, so it was just empty talk. [When Kasolo was arrested] I wasn't old enough so I didn't understand it.... I was working in Katwe here and during that time that newspaper [Uganda Eyogera] existed and I was old enough to read it, but I didn't understand it. [35]

Not resident in Katwe, it is possible that this man missed the local idioms of drugs, pits, and legs. A Katwe resident, born in 1935 and living there throughout the 1950s, did understand these idioms and turned them into a first person account not unlike the recollections of older Katwe residents: "I have seen one of their victims ... she was one of the five women, she was still alive when they were found at Kasolo's house but they were looking like stupid people, and that man, Kasolo, he was the one who did it!" [36]

Younger residents of Katwe, such as this man born in 1940, had revised the story of Kasolo's deeds and arrest, accessing other ideas about newspapers and respectability, the sale of bodies, and the cottage industry of transporting corpses to rural areas for customary burial: [37]

... he was taking some dead bodies to Zaire which was called Congo then. Once he was caught with some dead bodies ... and he used to dress them very well, like a live person! And he could put them in his car and he was pretending they were people on safari, and he gave them some newspapers to read and he did this several times.... [38]

Recent immigrants to Katwe told older stories of Kasolo, perhaps attaching to him rural elements of bazimamoto stories. A woman who came to Katwe in the 1970s said she heard that Kasolo "used to capture people and drop them in a certain pit." [39] Kasolo's story seems to have been different outside of Kampala; a fifty-year-old who grew up in rural Buganda told a Kasolo story without reference to newspaper accounts, arrests, or trials; it contained elements I had never heard in Kampala versions:

Kasolo, Kasolo, ... some children had survived capture which could happen especially when you had paid a visit to one of the well-known bazimamoto, because they had some pits in their houses and therefore somebody who had survived capture could tell you the story. They could tell you to be careful, and you were warned not to walk at night, and to take care passing Kasolo's homestead.... [40]

The issue here is not simply that of proximity to Katwe and Kasolo, but of how a story is told, with which conventions and recollections. Instead of asking what versions of the story are generated by oral media and what versions exist in written media, I want to suggest that we look at the formulaic elements—legs, cars, pits, food, and stupefying drugs—and how they are attached and configured in stories about Kasolo. Can we talk about the elements of storytelling that cleave, elements that appear but have divergent meanings in different media and different stories? If victims believe they have been fed "body-building food" to make them produce more blood, can we read Kasolo's complaint that his jailers have failed to feed him as the abductor's story? And did ordinary readers of Uganda Eyogera read this complaint and think of the food fed to the victims in Kasolo's house?

Kasolo, Kings, and Courtrooms

If Kasolo was well known as an agent of bazimamoto why did the police only raid his house in 1953? It seems unlikely that his conduct became worse in the months before his arrest, since there is no evidence—not even the trial—that he actually held people captive in his house. Trying to answer this question by examining Kasolo's conduct or personality may be a dead end; it focuses attention on Kasolo and not on the specific time and place of his arrest. It is possible that the raid of Kasolo's house was precipitated by the high politics of late 1953, the greatest crisis in the history of colonial Buganda. Fuelled by rumors of British plans to establish an East African Federation on the model of Central Africa, it centered around the status of self-government for the Kingdom of Buganda and became, in October and November of 1953, demands for Buganda's separation from the Protectorate. [41] After a few attempts at conciliation by—depending on whom one reads—the Kabaka, his ministers, or the Governor, the Kabaka was arrested and deported to London on December 1. [42] Kasolo's trial, with its trips to Mulago Hospital and its outbursts, stands in ironic contrast to the events that, just outside the courtroom doors, galvanized Mengo and Katwe.

So fractious were local politics in Mengo and Katwe that Paolo Kavuma recalled asking the Kabaka on November 6— the day after Kasolo's arrest—what he, the king, considered public opinion. " 'Should we,' I asked, 'regard the crowds which assembled from time to time at Katwe or Wandegeya, two of Kampala's liveliest suburbs, as representing public opinion?' " [43] Kasolo's trial may have demonstrated those crowds' ability to shape Buganda's criminal courts. Indeed, debates about how seriously to value something called "popular opinion" had long been an arena of conflict between clan elders and kingdom bureaucrats. The first serious rupture occurred when the Queen Mother, widow of Mutesa's father, was allowed to remarry in 1940: the then Katikiro, Martin Luther Nsibirwa, was forced to resign and later, three weeks after his reinstatement in 1945, was assassinated. There were riots in Kampala in 1945 and 1949, usually described as populist opposition to the Kingdom's hierarchy. [44] Buganda politics from 1940 to 1953 were hotly contested and relatively violent, both physically and verbally. For example, at Kasolo's trial, Stanley Kisitu, parish chief of Katwe, was attacked by the judge for not having searched for Kasolo in his house.

Judge: Since you were told that Kasolo was not there, did you search his bedroom to see if he was there?

Kisitu: No, I stopped in the sitting room and after the search, I collected all the women who had been found in Kasolo's house...

Judge: From the evidence you have been giving this court, it seems like you have been telling lies. A person of your nature is usually put before the law. Therefore I request the court prosecutor to open a case against you. Indeed, it would be impossible for a parish chief who was sent with a search warrant for searching a home to come back and say it was impossible. This is a real lie. [45]

It is quite possible to read this exchange and think that the purpose of the arrest and trial was to get rid of Kisitu. Kasolo was the vehicle. Kisitu's role in Kasolo's arrest seems almost reluctant. By his own account, "In September ... I was invited by Sergeant Sebirumbi to go to the Kibuye Police Station. On my arrival Sebirumbi blew a whistle and some policemen turned up. [They all went together] to Kasolo's house in my presence. The group included women and men who were not from the police." [46] It seems possible, even without knowing the specific fissures and personalities of Buganda bureaucratic politics in Kampala's suburbs in the early 1950s, that one of the reasons Kasolo's case came to trial had to do with the politics around Kisitu. It would be too glib to say that just as the angry crowd was after Kasolo, the judge was after Kisitu: the crowd had precipitated Kisitu's courtroom disgrace.

The trials of agents of the bazimamoto, however well known, did not have the same canons of evidence reserved for other offenses: the issues of the trial were little more than Kasolo's character; even the comings and the goings of the women he claimed as wives became diffuse, and were reported in Uganda Eyogera as evidence of his cruelty. The trial of Kasolo was a test not of his guilt or innocence, but of the competence of various officials. Points of law, of intent, and of behavior submitted to rules and rational evaluation had to do with officials of the state and kingdom. [47] By contrast, Kasolo's behavior was held up to ridicule. Indeed, it is possible to glean from the courtroom assertions about marriage and abduction proof of how little male control over women could be exercised in Kampala in 1953. [48] Evidence of drugging women was something else; it could not be established, but was constantly insinuated by the references to paralysis and hospitals made by all participants. In the absence of hard evidence, the trial disclosed alliances of police with crowds, reporters with magistrates, subchiefs with parish chiefs. [49] Kasolo was already well-known as an agent of bazimamoto; that particular "fact" did not require legal validation or the authority of the printed word. These new alliances, however, were something novel, something to tell newspaper readers about.

1. "In Kasolo's House, Pale Coloured Women Were Recovered," Uganda Eyogera, September 11, 1953, p. 1. All translations from the Luganda press are by Fred Bukulu and Godfrey Kigozi.

2. "Three Years for Attempt to Sell Man," Uganda Argus, February 16, 1959, p. 5.

3. Samuel Mbiru, Lubya, August 28, 1990. All translations of interviews are by Remigius Kigongo and William Wagaba.

4. See Luise White, "Bodily Fluids and Usufruct: Controlling Property in Nairobi, 1917-1939," Canadian Journal of African Studies 24, 3 (1990), pp. 418-38 and "Cars Out of Place: Vampires, Technology, and Labor in East and Central Africa," Representations 43 (1993), pp. 27-50.

5. Julia Nakibuuka Nalongo, Lubya, August 21, 1990.

6. One man, Kabangala, was the source of a number of urban legends, all involving his ability to outwit and steal from Indian merchants.

7. David Apter, The Political Kingdom in Uganda (Princeton, 1961), pp. 273-74, 337-40.

8. See Lloyd A. Fallers, Law Without Precedent. Legal Ideas in Action in the Courts of Busoga (Chicago, 1969), p. 80.

9. E. M. K. Mulira, Mengo, August 13, 1990.

10. Clay Ramsay, The Ideology of the Great Fear: The Soissonais in 1789 (Baltimore, 1992), pp. 131-40.

11. Nechumbuza Nsumba, Katwe, August 20, 1990.

12. Magarita Kalule, Masanafu, August 20, 1990.

13. Julia Nakibuuka Nalong, Lubya, August 21, 1990.

14. Testimony of Stanley Kisitu, Sabuwali parish chief of Katwe, "Kasolo's Case is Very Complicated," Uganda Eyogera, December 4, 1953, p. 1.

15. Aiden W. Southall and Peter C. W. Gutkind, Townsmen in the Making: Kampala and its Suburbs (Kampala, 1957), pp. 57-65.

16. Max Gluckman, "Gossip and Scandal," Current Anthropology 4, 3 (1963), pp. 307-16; Barbara Yngvesson, "The Reasonable Man and Unreasonable Gossip: on the Flexibility of (Legal) Concepts and the Elasticity of (Legal) Time," in P. H. Gulliver, ed., Cross-Examinations: Essays in Honor of Max Gluckman (Leiden, 1978), pp. 133-54.

17. "In Kasolo's House, Pale Coloured Women Were Recovered," Uganda Eyogera, September 11, 1953, p. 1.

18. See Jeffrey Brooks, "Literacy and Print Media in Russia, 1861-1928," Communication 11 (1988), pp. 50-51 and Misty L. Bastian, " 'Bloodhounds Who Have No Friends': Witchcraft and Locality in the Nigerian Popular Press," in Jean Comaroff and John Comaroff, eds., Modernity and its Malcontents: Ritual and Power in Postcolonial Africa (Chicago, 1993), pp. 129-66.

19. Paolo Kavuma, Crisis in Buganda, 1953-55: The Story of the Exile and the Return of the Kabaka, Mutesa II (London, 1979), pp. 24, 39.

20. "Bloodhounds Who Have No Friends," pp. 132-33.

21. "Kasolo Is Now in Prison at Njabule," Uganda Eyogera, November 6, 1953, p. 1.

22. Uganda Herald, May 7, 1949, p. 1.

23. Ahmed Kaziri, Katwe, August 20, 1990.

24. Sapiriya Kasule, Kisenyi, August 28, 1990.

25. "Kasolo Fought in Court: His Case Will Get a Ruling Today," Uganda Eyogera, November 27, 1953, p. 1.

26. "Kasolo's Case Is Very Complicated," Uganda Eyogera, December 4, 1953, p. 1.

27. Lucie E. White, "Subordination, Rhetorical Survival Skills, and Sunday Shoes: Notes on the Hearing of Mrs. G.," in Katharine T. Bartlett and Roseanne Kennedy, Feminist Legal Theory (Boulder, 1991), pp. 404-28.

28. George W. Ggingo, Kasubi, August 15, 1990.

29. Joseph Nsubuga, Kisasi, August 22, 1990; see also White, "Bodily Fluids."

30. Yonasani Kaggwa, Katwe, August 27, 1990.

31. David P. Henige, "The Problem of Feedback in Oral Tradition: Four Examples from the Fante Coastlands," Journal of African History 14, 2 (1973), pp. 223-35.

32. Bibiana Nalwanga, Bwaise, August 24, 1990.

33. Adolf Namutura, Katwe, August 24, 1990.

34. Musoke Kapliamu, Katwe, August 22, 1990; see also Christopher Kawoya, Kasubi, August 17, 1990.

35. Ssekajje Kasirye, Kisenyi, August 24, 1990.

36. Ahmed Kiziri, Katwe, 20 August 1990. I would hesitate to attribute this account solely to the story in Uganda Eyogera, since "looking like stupid people" is a common description of bazimamoto victims in southern Uganda.

37. The new, massive teaching hospital at Mulago, said to buy corpses, was under construction for years, and was finally finished in 1962. See Margaret MacPherson, They Built for the Future: A Chronicle of Makerere University College 1922-1962 (Cambridge, 1964) p. 34; David William Cohen, Burying SM: The Politics of Knowledge and the Sociology of Power in Africa (Portsmouth, 1992); Julia Nakibuuka Nalongo, Lubya, 21 August 1990.

38. Daniel Sekiraata, Katwe, August 22, 1990.

39. Beatrice Mukasa, Katwe, August 16, 1990.

40. Gregory Sselwagi, Lubya, August 28, 1990.

41. In colonial Northern Rhodesia, Federation talk generated intense vampire rumors, see Melwa C. Musambachime, "The Impact of Rumor: The Case of the Banyama (Vampire-Men) Scare in Northern Rhodesia, 1930-1964," International Journal of African Historical Studies 21, 2 (1988), pp. 201-15.

42. Three different accounts are Apter, Political Kingdom, pp. 276-86; The Kabaka of Buganda, Desecration of My Kingdom (London, 1967); Paolo Kavuma, Crisis in Buganda, 1953-55: The Story of the Exile and Return of the Kabaka, Mutesa II (London, 1979).

43. Kavuma, Crisis, p. 26; see also Apter, Political Kingdom, p. 226.

44. D. A. Low, Buganda in Modern History (Berkeley, 1971), pp. 139-50.

45. "Kasolo's Case Is Very Complicated," Uganda Eyogera, December 4, 1953, p. 1.

46. Ibid.

47. Gabor Klaniczay, The Uses of Supernatural Power: The Transformation of Popular Religion in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, translated by Susan Singerman, (Princeton, 1990), pp. 168-88.

48. Lyndal Roper, "Will and Honor: Sex, Words, and Honor in Augsburg Criminal Trials," Radical History Review 43 (1989), pp. 45-71.

49. My thinking on evidence comes from Cyprian F. Fisiy and Peter Geschiere, "Judges and Witches, or How is the State to Deal with Witchcraft?," Cahiers d'Etudes Africaines 118, 30-2 (1990), pp. 135-56.

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