We were not Simply Close, we were Knit Together
In the small hours of Friday 29thNovember 2019, one of my closest friends, a friend that I had known and been close to for over 30 years passed away suddenly and shockingly. In the past few years, I have lost friends and relatives and as a very emotional person, I usually write about the departed souls instantaneously. For Fred, I chose to grieve first and write later. As the person who was generally in-charge of all the ceremonies that saw off my friend, I never had a chance to eulogize my friend. This is my opportunity. I started writing this the night a week after interment, and have been refining it ever since.
After losing a number of good friends in the last two years, I thought I was now quite experienced when it comes to dealing with emotions and being strong. I always lock myself away grieve privately and put down the things I can quickly remember about them. While I managed to lock my self away and cry for about an hour that Friday morning, deep down in my heart I have never stopped grieving. As an emotional person, I tend to express myself in writing. I write when I am angry, happy or sad. The only other way, I know how to deal with my emotions is to exercise especially running long distances or burying myself in a book. I have done all in the case of Fred, but I still find it hard to believe and have a handle on.
I think of Fredrick Kagingo Sentomero all the time, not a single day goes by since his passing that I have not thought about him. I started writing this and gave up a number of times. Unfortunately, unless you are part of it, you may not know when death really hits hard. All you can do is share the memories and lessons so that people can understand what that loss means to you. I owe it to Fred to honour his memory by writing down if not for him for our children who may not have known how strong our bond was.
We grieve because we had the opportunity of connecting deeply with another human. This is essentially the most bittersweet of human experiences - author unknown.
Fred was a great person. He was real, bold, hardworking and fun loving. Like me, Fred was self-made. I always admired his ability to stay calm in the face of trouble and what looked like insurmountable challenges. Kijja kuggwawere his famous words. I’m sure all of us can attest to how loyal, helpful and wise Fred was. He was the group pro-bono attorney or legal representative; always helping us to manouvre out of self inflicted legal conundrums without charging us a coin. Many years ago, when I was a young man without experience about how the world works, I ended up before magistrate charged by an officer for jumping a light - my real crime was refusing to pay a bribe. As I was lead from the holding cell to the dock, I saw Fred and he whispered to me just plead guilty. When that question was put to me, I responded as he had suggested. He took it from there and pleaded with the magistrate that I was a first time offender and asked the magistrate to set me free – which he did, with a warning. Just before his death, he had worked behind the scenes to get bail for another friend of ours who had been incarcerated without charge for longer than he should have been. That was Fred, it did not matter that he was not in the country when this happened he still pulled all the strings from thousands of miles away and made sure that his friend regained his freedom. ‘We shall look at the case later when I return, but for now we must ensure that he leaves jail’ those were his words when I spoke to him.
He had great style and taste. He was immaculate whenever he stepped out for work or function – not a hair out of place. He was very focused and had clear goals in life. In fact, the perfectionist he was he had spoken to me so many times about where his body should be buried and how his funeral should run – something that momentarily became a point of contention as he probably had expected. He always talked to us about how we could improve ourselves.
Fred and I met at Makerere College School in May 1989 to commence our A Level studies. We made friends easily although I cannot remember what made us become good friends straight away. There could be two very possible explanations. First and foremost, Fred and I came from very poor backgrounds - little known schools and non-entity families - as he used to refer to them. Fred joined Makerere College School from Bishop’s High School, Mukono, while I joined from Kyambogo College School – not in the big league of schools. Secondly, while each of us joined separately, and on their own we both hit it off with a group of former Makerere College School students who had returned for A level. They were called ‘survivors’ – and most alumni of our time have confused us to be ‘survivors’ too. Unknown to us, this group of six led a celebrity kind of life in the school and as a result we also got cast into the limelight immediately. We became part of the group and got associated with whatever any member of the group did. Apart from Fred, the rest of us (seven) decided to run for positions on the Prefect’s Council. Fred enjoyed politics without participating in politics. He plotted the campaigns of the entire group. We all won our positions apart from one who was ruled ineligible by the staff – simply because they did not want him in that position. This group of eight has been together since those first months of our A level education in 1989.
Fred and I shared and did a lot of things together. From the younger days of petty arguments, sarcastic comments, countless house parties, non-mentionable errands, failed and successful matchmaking sessions, operating a failed ‘bank’ at the university, to eventually growing up into adults with real responsibilities, navigating our careers with endless conversations about adulthood and all the random political gossips, family secrets and impulsive hangouts. We were there for each other's darkest and brightest moments. Joined by another friend from the group- Louis Mukiibi, the three of us grew up and transitioned into responsible adults in a pleasurable and fun-filled way. We would arrange to meet up spontaneously just to catch up or meet a new potential girl friend being considered by one of us. We had some of the best moments of our late 20s and early 30s together. We knew each other’s weaknesses and strengths. He was the go to guy on matters of investment and law and I was the master when it came to matters to do with culture, people sensitivities and construction related matters. The very first meetings of our kwanjulasand weddings were convened in our houses not in bars or restaurants. As a person who grew up in the home alone (without sisters and brothers) both Fred and Louis became my brothers. They became part of my identity; my girl friends had to accept them and theirs did the same of me. We understood each other on a deep level and always had each other’s back covered. We went on a number of foreign trips together especially for the Rotary conventions and meetings. He was a relatively guarded person, even shy at times. So, it was not really easy to find him having a blast freely like I would do. But at these meetings he would really let his hair down. Our last such convention was in Hamburg, Germany in June 2019 and I do remember him in his joyful ways making teasing comments about the different restaurants & bars that we checked out as we tried to decide which one of them would be best for us.
As we grew older, we started to think about the realities of old age. How do we equip our children with life skills, how do we ensure we continue to have glorious days in our retirement or how do we ensure our families continue to live the same lives, God forbid should we depart earlier. We had always thought of doing something as a group of eight but always slow (and lazy) to do anything about it. By the end of 2012, all of us had turned 40 and Fred insisted that we should come up with an investment club. Much as he always had the ideas, his weakness was following them up to become a reality. So this talk continued until 2014 when we finally resolved at our end of the year gathering that this must take off and each of us was assigned specific responsibilities. In January 2015, 7Ms Investment Clubwas born with each of us contributing Ush. 50,000 per month. By the time of Fred’s death we had raised over Ush. 100m and we were considering of doing some mega investment with Fred as our core advisor. The other thing that Fred kept drumming on about is a will. He argued that since most of us had well-established careers and families, it would be utter idiocy if we died intestate. In fact, just before his death he had promised to talk to us about ‘irrecoverable trust’ as one way of ensuring that our immediate families benefit from our sweat on our demise. I had provided the venue and all that was being awaited was to decide which one of the days during the long end of year holiday would be used for this.
We shared and consulted on a lot of matters to with the wider family expectations and disappointments. When my father passed away intestate in 2013 and my sisters unanimously chose me to become the heir, Fred told me that if it were him, he would not have accepted such responsibility. He confided in me that this was because he intended to start a new family burial ground and break the sacred baganda culture of being buried with your ancestors. He added that he had already bought a piece of land for this and that he would take me to that place one day. This later turned out such big point of contention as we met with the Fred’s relatives to agree on the funeral arrangements. I have no apologies for laying Fred to rest where he is but I can apologise to his relatives on his behalf - I am sorry that he did not tell you as relatives in time – but may there was no time.
The Day Fred Passed on
Thursday 28thNovember was like any other Thursday in our lives. Fred had twice tried to call me and I had twice tried to call him back. On each of those occasions we missed each other. I remember that it crossed my mind later in the night and promised myself to call him first thing on Friday morning – there was only one problem – the Friday morning came but there was no Fred to call. Instead I spent the first 2 hours of daylight on Friday morning witnessing an autopsy of my friend’s lifeless body on a table in Mulago Hospital. Much as this may sound unreal, this procedure was also observed by Louis, in a way helped me to have closure. I will never know what Fred wanted to share with me on that Thursday afternoon.
On Friday morning, I woke up at 6.30 am like I usually do on weekdays and picked up my phone. While I was still staring at ’17 missed calls’ I received a call on my other line. The voice on the other end was not mistakable but the words did not sound correct ‘Ebya ssentomero obiwulidde, mbu afudde’- those words feel like a dagger into my heart, to this day. I didn’t believe what Louis had told me and decided to check with another person who I had been told knew the full story. All she said to me was ‘Tuli Mulago ku mortuary’and hang up. I picked up the nearest pair of trousers and shirt and pulled them over my pajamas and drove to Mulago Hospital. Barbara’s first words on seeing me were ‘Please make sure Fred gets a decent send off’ – I therefore have no apologies to make to those who thought I had no business being in-charge of the ceremonies to send off Fred. The only apology I can make if any is to Barbara and the children – to forgive me for anything that may have gone wrong.
Although I feel like no one will ever truly replace Fred, I have to stay strong and celebrate his spirit, support his family in the best way I can and within my means. I always called Fred’s sons my uncles and his daughter my mummy because my mother is fromNjovuclan like Fred. The one thing I know Fred would have wanted very much is to ensure that his children complete their education and I together with other friends will try our best to support Barbara whenever possible.
I am shattered that we had to lose him at such a young age. We won’t be able to share secrets, grow older and wiser together, have deep conversations, or reminisce about our younger lives, dating adventures and mischievous university plots. I still want to believe this is a bad dream but know that it is real. If I pause for a bit, I can feel his presence around us, guiding us on how to be street smart and how to watch out for crooks and bad deals.
Till we meet again Fred, Rest in Peace my friend, brother and partner in crime.
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