Every year at the beginning of June, there is the great trek to Namugongo in Uganda. People come from around the world to this place. Most travel hundreds of miles on foot. They come from within Uganda and from all corners of East Africa. These are mostly simple, ordinary people, most with little more than the clothes on their backs. Their most prized possession seems to be their strong conviction. They walk under the scorching sun, endure thirst and hunger, and fatigue, but keep walking. At nightfall, they find shelter wherever they can, which is often under the open sky. The next day and days that follow, they march again. Some never make it to Namugongo. They succumb to exhaustion or are run over by callous drivers. But the rest march on undeterred. The better off fly in from faraway places, or they arrive by car. Presumably, they, too, are driven by strong conviction. On June 3, they all – the lowly and the mighty - congregate at the Namugongo Martyrs Shrine. The former, nursing sore and tired limbs, blistered and swollen feet, but their spirits high as if intoxicated by some unseen substance. Maybe they are – by the spirit of the men that were killed on that spot more than a hundred years ago. The latter have not broken a sweat to get here. They have only changed the scene. Even the huge mass of people spread all around the holy site are at a safe distance. They are vaguely aware of their presence. All of them, especially the trekkers, will have stories to tell when they get back home. They will recount their experiences, the difficulties, the despair, even the times they may have questioned the wisdom of their undertaking, and at the end of it all the joy when they arrived at the end of their journey. If there are any poets among them, they might write something like T.S Eliot’s poem, Journey of the Magi, as a testament to their pilgrimage and gift to posterity. They will definitely tell and retell stories of their journey to the martyrs, but few are likely to write them. Which is a pity and loss to the rest of us who, for whatever reason, never get to make such trips. Whatever stories they choose to tell and how the whole experience is always a great spectacle. What else can you say about the huge gathering of people who have trekked incredibly long distances from across the region in this one place to pay homage to people they really do not know, but whose lives (we should say) they seem to worship, drawn to it only by the idea of what they died for? Seeing them all there, you have to admire their courage, endurance, and devotion. You are left wondering about where they get all that energy and zeal to undertake such an arduous journey. It is faith, you are likely to hear. The sort that can move mountains, calm rough seas, or enable you to walk on water. Cynics have a different view, of course, but we will not go into that now. These are pilgrims we are talking about making the annual trip to honour the Uganda Martyrs. The martyrs were men (and boys) killed between 1885 and 1887 on the orders of Mwanga II, the king of Buganda, allegedly for disobeying him and choosing to follow the new Christian faith. Twenty-two of them have since been added to the list of saints. They were first beatified by Pope Benedict XV in 1920 and then canonised by Pope Paul VI in 1964. Most of them were killed at Namugongo, most by burning. Others had been killed along the way to the execution area, bludgeoned to death mostly. Christians believe they died for their faith and that their death has watered the growth of the Christian faith in Uganda, and beyond, as the annual pilgrimage shows. African nationalists beg to differ but we will not go into their reasons here. Over the years, they and the place where most of them were killed have become world-famous religious and tourist attractions. Pilgrimages to religious or holy sites are a common practice among religious people everywhere. Here in Rwanda, we have our own site where people come on pilgrimage. They from around the world flow to Kibeho, the site of the apparition of the Virgin Mary, Mother of God, to three young girls in 1982. It is perhaps a different experience from that of Namugongo, maybe not on the same massive scale. But that is because it is spread throughout the year. The high point is August 15, the feast of the Assumption. Just like Namugongo, pilgrims trek to Kibeho from Rwanda as well as neighbouring countries. It is not only the poor that do so. I know well-to-do people in Kigali who could drive to Kibeho but choose to make regular pilgrimages there on foot. The phenomenon of pilgrimage may appear easy to understand. However, it is a lot more complex and even intriguing. What is it that drives individuals and large groups to undertake such difficult and often dangerous journeys? How are they mobilised to make the travel, and spend so much energy, time, and resources on something that will not bring them visible benefits? The obvious reason is spiritual; the desire for individual sanctification that may come from connecting with the spirit, with the sense and place of holiness and the chance that some of it will rub off on you. The hardship is part of the attraction. It is many things at once. A sense of sacrifice. Admiration of the courage of certain individuals, or the simplicity and steadfastness of others. Then also a sense of sharing and participating in their experience through the pilgrimage. But there is also a purely secular element. A sense of curiosity. Pilgrimages are interesting for other, more practical reasons. They offer lessons, especially in mobilisation, to which secular leaders should pay attention. These are people willing to do all these things without compulsion or being pushed (at least that is the assumption). Yet the same people are unlikely to make the same effort willingly in things that are directly beneficial to them, say, building schools, health facilities, or community housing. How can they be made to want to contribute to these as well? Maybe secular leaders should study the methods of mobilisation (if there are any) or motives that make it possible, and then apply them to secular causes. They should get close to religious leaders to learn about their secrets and convince them to tell their flock that whenever they participate in these secular activities, they chalk up credit in heaven and their treasure increases manifold. Or they could enlist the support of a popular saint.
