Tribute to Herbert Wamala (RIP)
As we go through this life, we all meet loads of people. Some become our friends, some hate us while a few leave a long lasting legacy in our lives. To me, Herbert Wamala falls in the last category. About 12 years older than me, he became a good friend of mine in the last years of his life. I did not consider a social gathering complete without him. They are people who we like because they inspire us and those we like because they make life so much easier to live. Herbert was both to me! I joined the Kampala Hash - a drinking club with a running problem- in 2009. I knew a few people in the group before I joined and inevitably I associated with the Hash team where most of the people I knew belonged. Team Kimeeza had friends and colleagues I knew from other spheres of life like Stephen Luswata, Richard Mwami, Martin Makumbi, Alice Gitta etc. I naturally settled in and within a short time I had jelled with the entire team. Over the next few months Herbert Wamala caught my attention. He was never to be missed in a group. He was handsome, humorous and knowledgeable. Above all, he was generous and had a deep voice. So, even if you missed his looks like many of us men did, you would hear his voice or end up on the receiving end of one of his generous acts if not the friendly banter. I liked him and thankfully, I think, he liked me back. The after run Kimeeza is always a place for light conversation and humorous jibes, no one made it more interesting than Herbert. Naturally sharing a table with him became part of my routine every after run. In years to come we shared rides to far off runs and at times when I didn’t have a car he delivered me to my next destination after the run. Our bond grew and like in many situations we started sharing family history. I pleasantly learnt that he shared a clan with my mother and I would occasionally refer to him as Kojja. I also learnt that like me he was very keen on his ancestry and that our culture was as important to him as it was to me. Finally, I had found someone who made me feel normal. He was educated, sophisticated, smart, well travelled, God fearing yet still loved our culture. He exercised, ate healthy and worked hard but also loved to party responsibly. There was nothing wrong with having all those in one person, so I wasn’t an odd person after all. In short, he loved all the things I loved and he was what I wanted to be. In him I started seeing an older version of myself. He inspired me and I wanted to emulate him. When my knees started giving way, many people gave me advice from outright abandonment of running to surgery! He may not have given me the best advice but I chose to go with his ‘it’s not worth going for surgery at your age but neither do you want to have a poor heart when you are in your fifties, therefore keep running but with your knee situation in mind, you are no longer 30 years old, don’t over tax them, give them a break whenever necessary’ then he added ‘you either have bad knees or a bad heart, the choice is yours’ On the day Herbert passed on, I was not in town and was scheduled to fly out the following day. I managed to attend the funeral service but not his final send off in Nakawuka, two days later. During the service, every one spoke about Herbert the way I know him. He was not only nice to me, after all. I admired the courage of his wife and daughters and I pray that God makes them strong to cope with Herbert’s absence. Later that night aboard a flight to Nairobi, the memories we shared together in the last 9 years turned into tears that rolled down my cheeks. I will miss you Herbert. I will keep running, if not for having a healthy heart, to keep your memories going.
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