Another legend of the day has it that it was a rainy morning, moments after 6:00 AM. A heavy downpour was letting down throughout the morning; the sound of falling rains welcomed me to my new place. I guess this explains a few things about my personality.
We had two or three mud-and-grass thatch houses on the Rwendahi farm of my father, by the time I was born on 25th January 1984. My father, Samuel Mugyenyi, had moved here when he got his share of family land, which was an 6-mile ranch of Rubanonzya, as was starting out his life here. His father, James Kanyorozi, was one of two son of Karayegire/Karagire Rubanonzya. Rubanonzya was the son of Baranga. Thats four generations of history. These men wrote their names in history, and are remembered as legends of their time.
My mother's name was Margaret Nyakato (Maaga) [1962 - Feb 23, 2020]. She was born a twin with a brother called Ninsiima Ephraim. They are from the Bene Ishemurari Clan. More on my mom's family background later.
I was raised by my dad, because my mom separated with my dad when I was about 4 or 6. No one seems to keep track of the exact times of events. She came to visit once in while where we lived in Bwera at that time, and in long whiles, when we moved from there after. I spent my teen years between living our family farm, in the town home and school. I joined boarding school, officially from primary seven (P7), through senior one to six (1998 -2004). My early twenties were spent in university, having joined Makerere University campus for my Bachelors degree in 2005.
I can comfortably say I grew up on the farm. As children we took cows to graze and to water, and saw lots of little wild animals -and not so little ones; we learnt how to milk cows, and to help them during delivering a new born calf; we took young calves to grass in the morning hours between 9 and noon and played in the valleys while trees swung to the winds and birds sang. This is the default introduction of every young boy who comes from a culture where cattle keeping is a way of life. We removed the dung from Kraals, and if the cows crossed from their kraals into the house compound during the night, we cleaned after them. I will write specifics of my cultural upbringing as I remember them.
The story of my parents is a little bit complex; my mother separated from my dad when i was about 4 years old. I will try to delve into it in various posts on this blog, as I discover it myself. I'm doing some kind of research into the history of my families, my dad's family and my mom's. I intend to aggregate my findings into a volume, which will pretty much be a birthday gift to my first child making 18; Now that is some forward thinking, given that I haven't even met my future wife yet.
Life has been full of lessons. But mostly, it has been kind. I couldn't ask for more. I have a glorious past to admire in my father's line of men. They were all self sustaining men, hugely successful at cattle farming, which was in line with their cultural norm. They have been transforming into modern mini ranchers over the years, my dad and the late uncle George are examples. Growing up on our farm(s) has taught me more about life than all the teachers I've met. Most of the experiences that have shaped my personality the most happened during these young years. In many ways my life was fixed in stone at the moment of my birth.
