Thank you John Kabaalu
Most readers would be conversant with the saying ‘It takes a village’, which I have always erroneously attributed to Hillary Clinton because of her book that goes by the same title. A few years back, I learnt that the origin of this phrase is actually rooted in an Igbo and Yoruba proverb "It takes a village to raise a child". I did not pick up the pen to write about the origins of this famous saying but rather it’s relevancy to me. I am a typical example of a child raised by an entire village. I don’t think I can recall all the people who contributed to my nurturing and education, even if I tried. I am sure there are those who may have donated without my knowledge. However, there are also those I know who went beyond the obligatory simple care of a human being for another to ensure that I fed, was clothed and went to school. I am always grateful to my two jjajas in Kiwanga, Hajat Yusuf in Kireka and most especially Mukulu Ernest Gaster Mukasa also from Kireka. I am immensely grateful to each of those individuals because, even at that tender age, I could see that they were not just going through the motions of acts of kindness but were emotionally attached to the cause. Then there is another category of people. Those who were not regularly involved in my life but carried out just one random act of kindness that left an ineradicable mark. Those were many too, including Uncle Batte, Auntie Oliver etc.
It is difficult to comprehend the effect of one’s gesture until you take a pause later in life and realize that if it were not for that benevolent act from that person, life may have turned out totally different. Seated here this afternoon in a wet Kampala, I want to dedicate this blog to my former classmate and friend John Kabaalu. For years, I have contemplated what life would have been like, if it was not for John Kabaalu and his random act of kindness in 1983. I am almost sure that there would be no Robert Kiggundu as he is known today and here is why.
In 1983, as Primary Six pupils, we were all required to have a Nile English Course textbook by our English teacher who also happened to be our headmaster, Mr William Nsubuga (RIP). If you didn’t have one, he sent you back home, simple. There were no ifs, buts or whens. My story of scarcity while I was growing up has been told a number of times but I doubt that many know that at one moment in 1983, I almost stopped going to school for good because my mother could not find the money to buy an English text book. For some reason, 1983 was especially a difficult year for my mum and I. Things were so bad that for the first time, I decided to confront my father, something my mother had warned against. The story about that encounter has been told before and shall not be revisited. With no money from my father to buy this textbook and having seen my mother for once concede that she had hit a dead end, I retired home disappointed and downhearted. I remember thinking how everybody around me including the teacher was mean to my mother and I. Couldn’t they see that she had already suffered a lot to keep me in school up to now? How could someone send me away for just a book? Anyway, later that evening I slowly trod over to the grocery store owned by John Kabaalu’s father. He always took charge after school and offered me some goodies like pancakes and doughnuts (free or charge of course – and an apology to Salongo is now in order). We had our usual chitchat about everything like 12 year olds would. Our favorite topic was always the local football league; he supported KCC while I supported SC Villa. Most of the grown ups that congregated at the store every evening also spoke about football – probably the safest subject at the time.
As I was leaving at about 9 pm to return home, he said that he would see me at school the next day or something close to that. This is when I told him with a lump in my throat that unfortunately, I would not be returning to school soon because my mother had failed to raise the money for a Nile English Course Book 6. Without hesitation, he asked me to meet him outside and disappeared into the room at the back of the store which also had another exit. When my friend re-appeared outside the store, he had an old copy of the Nile English Course Book 6 in his hands. He told me that his older brother who was now in Namilyango had used this copy and he had been bought a new one, so he would not need this one. I could not hide my joy, I remember I hugged him and thanked him with tears rolling down my cheeks. The following day, I walked into school with swagger and relief written all over my face. This story has lived with me forever but I could not remember if I had shared with my mother how I had managed to acquire this elusive textbook. In 2015, when my mother was celebrating her 70thbirthday, I looked for and tracked down John Kabaalu. I requested for his company at the event to mark this milestone and use the opportunity to re-tell this story in the presence of the two of them.
John Kabaalu, was and still is a very simple man. Despite the fact that he came from a better-resourced family, he was not flamboyant or showy. His random act of kindness to a fellow 12 year has always lived with me. To this day, I keep asking that same question, what if Kabaalu had not done what he did? I see many former old school mates who dropped out of school for the lack of tuition and/or requirements. For us children from under priviledged families, you were never sure of the source for the next tuition, notebooks or pens. Coupled with all the temptations around a bustling suburban place like Kireka, failure to obtain simple scholastic materials was enough to derail you. Many of my friends fell by the way side like that. It could easily have been my turn to get off the bus, if not for John Kabaalu. He helped me to stay on the journey so that many more others could join in later to see me up to the finishing line. God bless you John and may he reward you with what you desire always.
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