And Then There Was Me
My name is Musika Timothy Jonathan. In my local language, the name “Musika” means “heir”. This is a name that is given to the first-born sons of the family who usually inherit the father’s estate when they come of age or when the father passes on, whichever came first. So yes, I was born to my parents on the 6th day of the month of February in a year of our Lord.
It was a routine antenatal checkup that mom had gone for that evening. When she however saw the doctor, they told her that she could not leave because the baby was ready to come out. Mom says I came out two weeks earlier than I was expected to come out. For all we know, my birthday should have been the 20th of February but alas, I decided to come out early. Ever since that day, my birthday has always been celebrated. When I went to boarding school, we had a celebration just before I went to school. To this day, my dad is the first person to remember my birthday. I recall one day a few years back when I got a call from dad at 5:00am on the morning of my birthday. My dad is my biggest fan and I am more than convinced that he wishes me the very best in life.
At the time of my birth, my dad was the headteacher of Nabumali S S. This is a school that at its inception was one of the best schools in the country. Many prominent people from the Eastern region of the country went through this school. By God’s grace, dad was given the opportunity to lead the school and around that time is when I was born.
Mom says among all my siblings, I was one who never struggled with feeding. I always galloped down my bottle of milk when I was hungry and barely cried over anything. A short while ago, a friend of mine said I took my dad’s talkativeness and my mom’s boldness.
Two other boys were born after me and then mom and dad figured they were done. Growing up at home, I had more sisters and aunties than older brothers and uncles. As a, I found it easier to hang around girls even at school or at church. I believe that is what earned me a bit of respect among my fellow boys. Okay, that’s not the only thing but among other reasons, that is one of them.
Shortly after Titus my younger brother was born, my dad started his master’s degree at Makerere University. That meant that we had to move to Kampala where the school was. Back then, the idea of long-distance learning was far from being perfect. I was just over two years when we made that move. A friend of mine calls this selective memory but for some reason, I remember certain details of that trip somewhat vividly.
I remember that when we were moving from Nabumali to Kampala, a truck was hired to move us along with our luggage to Kampala. On the way to Kampala, I recall that this truck broke down as we were approaching Jinja, the town that is home to the source of the River Nile, the longest river in the world. My mom confirms this particular detail. I don’t know how I remember this part but I do.
We started staying in a part of Kampala called Kyebando. We stayed close to a school called Wisdom Nursery & Primary School. That is the school where Linatte, my elder sister started her nursery education. Being just under 2 years younger than her, mom says I wanted to go to school with her. At 2 years, I started going to school with Linatte. I am guessing this was a way to keep me engaged as well because I recall that when I turned 3 years old, I had to start kindergarten at another nursery school, Wandegeya Nursery School. I remember a trip we once had to the zoo while I was still at Wisdom Nursery & Primary School
While at Wandegeya Nursery School, I had an experience with the kindest askari I have ever come across. Among the schools I studied at is Wandegeya Nursery School. Wandegeya Nursery is located just at the roundabout from Wandegeya towards Mulago. I am actually still shocked it still exists seeing as most of the surrounding area is occupied by garages. A new restaurant and bar actually just opened up right in front of the school.
I was in baby class at pre-school. I had just transferred from Wisdom Nursery
School. But how do I remember all these details? I was a smart young boy though. We had a fixed program every day. I would wake up and mum would drop me at school. The class would formally end just after lunch. However, the teachers would try and keep engaged the children whose parents worked and could only pick them later in the afternoon.
On what seemed like a normal day, class time ended and after lunch, we took our nap. We woke up later to play. By then, some of us had been picked up already. It reached 5:00 PM and just a handful of us was left at school. Being young and energetic, the games continued. We played on the swings, run around a bit chasing each other and made noise. By this time, most if not all the teachers had gone. The person under whose care we were left was the school security guard.
Time check: 7:00 PM: I am the only lad left on the playground and it was getting dark. When I was young, I had asthmatic tendencies so all the running around the playground for this long must have started giving me a heavy chest. The askari called me and probably asked me about my parents and why they hadn’t picked me up. He noticed that I was breathing badly and asked me to lie down in his house which was a one-roomed place at the school entrance.
I was woken up a bit later to eat supper and the meal that evening was matooke (steamed plantain) with smoked fish in groundnut paste. This is one of my favourite local Ugandan meals. I don’t know if it is this particular occasion that brought this love but well, it’s a great combination. After supper, I slept.
Now, I don’t for a second remember being worried about why I wasn’t picked up. Being a child, I was sure mum would eventually pick me up either that day, or the following day, or the day after. I wasn’t worried one bit. I was half-asleep when I heard a familiar voice. Mum was at the askari’s door asking about me.
…to be continued.
tjmusika 