My father and I wrote to each other weekly. I was the one person in Namugongo PS and Namagunga who got a letter weekly. Some older girls would get curious. Father wrote to me weekly since he took me into those horrible boarding schools. In Namagunga, facing puberty, I used to walk around with the letters like it was not my father who was writing to me. Do not laugh.. it was great for my self esteem. To imagine that 7yrs ago, I was trying to put Becky in a boarding school in Canada. Some habits die hard. She attends an independent Christian School (she chose it and it fits her perfectly).
This one time when I had arrived in Victoria BC (Canada), life seemed so very difficult. You see at home, I could fall sick and mzee would come and pick me up for treatment. It suddenly occurred to me in Victoria BC that I could fall sick and dad would not come to pick me up. The first 3 months were terribly hard. I had never left Uganda for my studies at all. So completing Secondary School in Canada and so very far away from home. I know about tears. Father always said to write, write and write some more. So I took my pen and writing pad and wrote home. I destroyed a lot of my writing after my father died. But I wrote something like this.
`Papa, ingana ukhula ingo. Bulamu buli buwangafu naabi. Ingana khubona bapapa, bamayi, bakhotsa, basenje, bandayese bosi. Papa, ingana khukobola ingo. Namanya khulima. Ingalime' That man ensured that I got on that plane to return to my studies. Who would do that for their kid? I have never understood this because I was destined to be the best farmer in Bududa.
By Martha Leah Zesaguli (Nangalama)
Born and Raised in Uganda