On Saturday, I drove over 250km to Kagadi. Not for a wedding. Not for a political rally. But for the burial of a man who lived 100 years and shook the very ground he walked on. By the look of things, the entire district of Kagadi and Hoima closed shop. Over 5,000 people. Ranked and unranked. Big men and nobodies. They all showed up. Not for a concert. Not for money. But to bury a man. That is how powerful he was in life. And yet, he still bowed. That is the irony. Death doesn’t respect influence. It doesn’t care…