Some time ago, a consulting architect reached out to me with an unusual request. She had been commissioned to help redesign and rebuild the pavilion that once stood at Coronation Park in Lira City—a structure that had been demolished during renovations under the USMID program. Mayor Sam Atul had asked for its return, but no one on the design team could remember what it looked like.

That’s how I found myself being consulted—not as an engineer or planner—but as a kind of unofficial memory bank.

The architect asked me to recall everything:

• How many steps led up to the pavilion?

• How many pillars did it have?

• Any other details might seem trivial?

When I asked why all this mattered, she said something that changed my entire view:

This single comment opened a door. What else might be hidden in the old Indian buildings lining Obote Avenue? So I started to dig to find out. Here below are some of my findings.

The Watchful Dog

As a child in the 1970s, we scavenged around what was then called Lira Avenue, looking for empty Rex cigarette boxes to make toy cars. But there was one building we never dared approach—right opposite the old Lango Bookshop (and by oposite, I mean on the other side of the street).

Mounted above its shopfront were two sculpted dog heads, peering out like stone guardians. They’re still there today, though partly hidden behind modern signage.

To a child’s eye, they were scary. But in Hindu tradition, the dog is sacred, often associated with Bhairava, a fierce form of Lord Shiva. The dog symbolizes loyalty, vigilance, and spiritual protection—a guardian of sacred thresholds.

What we thought was merely decoration was possibly a spiritual shield.

The Pillars of Belief

Another common feature on these buildings is the use of pillars—but they’re not just structural.

In Hinduism, pillars can symbolize the cosmic axis connecting heaven and earth. In ancient myths, Lord Vishnu appears as Narasimha (half-man, half-lion) emerging from a pillar—demonstrating the divine presence within stone.

The number and design of pillars often hold numerological or religious significance. What we might call “colonial flair” may, in fact, be quiet tributes to sacred geometry and spiritual order.

The Swastika—Misunderstood

You may spot a swastika on some of these buildings—often tucked discreetly into door ornamentation. Due to its misuse by Nazi Germany, the symbol carries a dark reputation in the West.

But in Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism, the swastika is a sacred symbol of good fortune, balance, and divinity. Its appearance on buildings was meant to bless and protect the occupants and visitors alike.

Elephants and Lions: Spiritual Guardians

Some buildings bear sculptures of elephants and lions, both of which carry weighty symbolism in Indian belief:

• Elephants, associated with Lord Ganesha, represent wisdom, strength, and prosperity.

• Lions, tied to Durga and Narasimha, represent power, courage, and divine protection.

These animals were not just ornamental—they were guardians, chosen with intention.

Steps and Sacred Geometry

You’ve probably seen the stepped tops of old buildings—now commonly copied in modern commercial architecture in Lira. But these aren’t just aesthetic choices.

In ancient Indian design, steps were laid out according to sacred geometry, often to mimic spiritual journeys. Structures like stepwells in Rajasthan are examples of this cosmic alignment—each step a movement toward the divine.

Even the steps that once led to the Coronation Park pavilion may have held such meaning—forgotten now, but spiritually alive in their original purpose.

In Conclusion: Look Again

The Indian buildings on Obote Avenue are not just relics of the past. They are architectural texts—silent stories carved in brick and stone, pillars and steps, lions and dogs.

They tell of a time when architecture was prayer, and when form followed faith, not just function.

So next time you walk down Obote Avenue, don’t just look past them.
Look into them.
You might just find a piece of forgotten wisdom staring back.

Among the Lango people of Northern Uganda, tradition was never random. Everyday actions—however small—were guided by practical needs, cultural values, and deep wisdom passed quietly from one generation to the next.

One such tradition, now fading from modern memory, is the placement of the water pot just behind the inner door shutter of the hut.

If you grew up in a traditional ot (hut), you may remember this clearly: open the door, and there it was—the clay pot of water, tucked in its cool corner behind the door shutter, waiting silently. This wasn’t by accident. It was intentional. And like many aspects of Lango indigenous knowledge, it carried more meaning than meets the eye.

🛖 Practical, But Not Just Practical

The first and most obvious reason was convenience. A person returning from the garden or a traveler arriving from afar would likely be tired and thirsty. Placing the water pot near the door ensured that they could refresh themselves right away, without bothering anyone.

It was also the most shaded part of the house, helping keep the water cool in the hot tropical weather. The placement made use of a space that would otherwise go unused.

But beyond the convenience, the positioning of the pot was a quiet lesson in character.

🧒🏽 A Teacher of Responsibility and Kindness

In many Lango homes, it was understood that before you left the house, you checked the pot. Was it clean? Was it full? If not, you fetched water. This routine helped instill the values of discipline, responsibility, and consideration for others.

You didn’t leave your home without making sure the next person—visitor or family—would find water ready.

In this way, the water pot was more than just a container. It became a silent teacher, reminding you to think of someone else’s need before your own comfort.

✨ The Spiritual Dimension

In some clans, elders spoke of the spiritual significance of water and its placement near the door.

Water was seen not just as a drink, but as a cleansing force—both physically and spiritually. The pot behind the door served as a symbolic barrier against negative energy or bad spirits, a form of unspoken protection. In this light, the pot also became a kind of guardian of the threshold.

This belief is not unique to Lango. Across cultures—from Ethiopia to the Middle East—water near doorways symbolized peace, purity, and blessing.

🫗 A Quiet Ritual of Hospitality

There was also a protocol of asking. Even if the water pot was visible and inviting, you didn’t just drink from it without permission. You asked.

And when the host answered, “Pi tye, be imat pi”, it wasn't just about the water. It was a ritual—a small but powerful act of human connection and mutual respect.

🧱 A Wisdom at Risk of Disappearing

Today, with cement homes, metal doors, and bottled water, this tradition has quietly disappeared from many households. But what has also faded with it is the intentional kindness, the discipline, and the shared sense of responsibility that the water pot once represented.

In reviving these stories, we do more than remember—we reclaim a way of life that made our homes not just places to sleep, but places of character formation and communal care.

In the Lango region, nature has always provided silent but powerful remedies for everyday ailments. One such treasure is a common trailing vine known in Leblango as Anunu, botanically referred to as Cyphostemma serpens.

If you’ve ever walked through the countryside and noticed a vine curling itself over low acacia trees or draping across termite mounds, chances are you’ve seen Anunu. This wild plant produces small clusters of berries and thick green leaves. In some parts of Africa, both the berries and leaves are eaten as food. However, here in Lango, while the fruits are popularly known for their high vitamin C content, the leaves are rarely used in cooking.

Yet, unknown to many, Anunu is more than a wild snack or a fruit for the birds — it is a potent traditional medicine with several healing uses. In today’s article, I will walk you through step-by-step methods to turn this familiar but often ignored plant into remedies for sensitive teeth, boils and abscesses, and as a nutritious tonic for children.

1. For Sensitive Teeth

Do your teeth sting when you drink something cold or hot? But especially when you eat a raw sour fruit? Anunu offers a quick fix.
Here’s how:

• Pick a few fresh Anunu leaves.

• Rinse them.

• Chew the leaves raw and keep the juice around the affected area in your mouth.

Within minutes, the discomfort caused by tooth sensitivity fades away. This method is simple and especially helpful when you're far from a pharmacy.

2. For Abscesses and Boils

Anunu leaves are also powerful when it comes to treating skin infections such as boils and abscesses (painful pus-filled lumps under the skin).

Two traditional methods are used:

a) Decoction:
(A decoction is a herbal preparation made by boiling plant materials in water.)

• Take a handful of fresh Anunu leaves.

• Boil them in about one liter of water for 10 minutes.

• Let it cool slightly, then use the warm liquid to wash the affected skin area. Do this 2–3 times a day.

b) Poultice:
(A poultice is a soft, moist mass of plant material applied directly to the body to relieve pain or inflammation.)

• Pound the fresh leaves into a paste.

• Apply the paste directly on the boil or abscess.

• Cover with a clean bandage and leave it for a few hours.

These treatments help reduce swelling and draw out infection naturally.

3. Children’s Tonic

Want to give your child a natural health boost?

Here’s a traditional Anunu tonic:

• Collect fresh green Anunu berries.

• Boil them in water until they soften and become pulpy.

• Add milk to the warm pulp and serve it to children.

Alternatively, the tuberous roots of the Anunu vine can be boiled until soft and served the same way.

A tonic is a substance taken to restore or improve health and well-being. It is usually used to strengthen the body, improve appetite, or increase energy — especially useful for children recovering from illness or those needing extra nourishment.

Both the berries and roots act as nourishing tonics — especially beneficial for growing children.

Final Word

Anunu is more than just a wild creeper; it is a living pharmacy wrapped in green. As we return to natural, sustainable ways of living, let us not overlook the simple wisdom of our ancestors. The next time you walk past a termite hill or an old acacia tree, look out for Anunu — and remember the healing power hanging right above your head.

Ikare ca Oculi gin kede Ogole onwongo obedo owote atek amom twere. Gin ducu onwongo obedo otino awobe. Dang gin ducu onwongo obedo jo ame pe ru onyomo.

Nino moro acel, Oculi te kobi Ogole ni tin wan myero owot omo anyira acil me anyoma. Ento Ogole te gami Oculi ni, en kome lit pe etwero wot lalata. Two cado omake.

Oculi te gami Ogole ni, mano obedo gin ayot. En etye kede diro ame romo miyo cado Ogole jukere oko. Ogole dang te ye ni Oculi yeny diro me juko cado mere.

Oculi te wot omo odok kic te bino culu kede dud Ogole oko. Cado dang te jukere oko. Oculi gin kede Ogole ote cako wot moyo anyira acil me anyoma.

Ento ikare ame awobe ni otunu ikaka yamo, anyira te cako maro Ogole keden. Gin onwongo pe omaro Oculi. Man te wango yi Oculi atek ateka. Oculi te cako goyo pulan me ryemo anyira ikom Ogole oko.

Oculi te libere te wot puto odok idud Ogole oko. Cado te kir te dyako anyira ducu. Anyira te ngwec oko ikom Ogole. Oculi dang te ngwec oko.

Lewic te mako Ogole atek ateka. Wang yic dang te make. Cakere inino naca naka tin, Ogole pe mare gin kede Oculi. En omion Oculi ka oneno Ogole, ngweco te wot donyo oko iyi acoc.

Icina te gik kakan kun pwonyo wa ni gwokere ikom owote ni.

Icina na te gik kakan!

Ongwen Laodog

email: [email protected]

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