Hear My True Story

Childhood village life in Uganda, East Africa

April 12, 2022 Otako Season 2 Episode 4
Hear My True Story
Childhood village life in Uganda, East Africa
Hear My True Story
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Show Notes Transcript

In this episode, we share a true story from Katongole Henry Nathan, one of Hear My True Story Project Kampala's true storytellers. He shares his personal stories from his childhood village life in Uganda, East Africa.



Hear My True Story Project in Kampala:
Hear My True Story Kampala is a collaborative project between the Hear My True Story podcast and Omuti Kreativ, an organization in Uganda. As part of the Hear My True Story Kampala project, we feature True Stories and Conversations about Real Life Experiences with Non-storytellers and Storytellers from Uganda. 

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  1. Email: hear@hearmytruestory.com
  2. Twitter: https://twitter.com/HearmyTrue
  3. YouTube : https://www.youtube.com/c/HearMyTrueStory

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Thanks for listening to Hear My True Story!

Otako  0:01  
In this episode, we share a true story from Henry. Nathan. Katanga , one of the true storytellers at the hear my true story, Project Kampala. I hope you enjoy his boss on story

HEAR MY TRUE STORY  0:36  
Welcome to hear my true story Kampala season one where we tell true stories and have conversations about real life experiences with non storytellers and storytellers from Uganda.

Hear My True Story Kampala is a joint project between hear my true story podcast and Omuti Kreativ an organization in Uganda.

Omuti Kreativis an arts organization that provides safe and free learning spaces for creative arts, educational support, and cultural exchange opportunities to children and youth in Uganda

Nathan  1:23  

Being in school has and will always be an experience of its own, waking up to that long pressed siren at a very early hour of the morning. The daily evening prayers and the very unavoidable evening preps. The bully students from the higher classes who kept taking away our own books and grab plus fining us for not being "loyal and complaint" as they defined it. My school St. Charles Lwanga Kasasa was a single sex school (boys) and is a christian founded school under the Brothers of Christian Instruction and later turned into a mixed school currently goverment aided. Goegraphically located a few metres off the kampala-masaka highway in bukulula subcounty kalungu district. With the cool breeze and surrounding of the trees all over the place, Ntwatwa a man made lake made and named after brother Ntwatwa one of the oldest brothers in the practice  and the tiny routes that lead you through the village to the closest trading centre masaba made my school fun but hard. The morning without money to buy you an accompaniment to the hot porridge (emboocha) with less or no sugar at all, personally i was very good at eating up grab loans at the school canteen because i had established a trustable friend zone with the attendant who i could give about 50k at the begining of the term and chew it off the way i want that with which ever bill exceeded i would clear it on vistation day or end of term. Getting to class with that teacher who never cares about you but claims to be helping shape and modify you, fires you out of his class with or without reasons. The uncalled for tests that come with criticisms and demand to pull up my socks or else am going to repeat a class. The school environment was nolonger an option but rather a nightmare. The last week to breakoff for a term was always a life rebirth, no preps, choosing when to wake up and and not too and escaping at anytime of your wish became a routine. Kiro more (the last night to the term breakoff)was always the day. My name is Katongole Henry Nathan and Its this super amazing day we are breaking off for holidays for second term 2009 and am in senior two. It has always been my mum picking me from school and she always shows up really early before you even think of early bird sounds someone is right next to your bed waking you up that your being called. No showering , not even brushing the driver is carrying your suit case and matress to the car already. My mum is a short brown woman and was always easily identified at school as "muzungu". And this particular round its not the usual routine of mummy always picking me from school....this time round it's dad coming through. My mum and my dad separated in 2007 just after my primary seven and its now a year and about 7months since their divorce. My dad considered it disrespectful my mum being in position to work and provide for family in one way or the other and the fact that he felt like all the support went back to my mother's family left him discontented . And on alot of occasions my mother would come for my vistation earlier before my dad comes or shortly after my dad has left and yes this affected me alot but still worked for me because at the end of the day i was gaining from both sides. Like any other excited child i couldnt stop thinking of getting home after all this hustle and bassle i have been through the entire term, i packed up all i could within the night anticipating dad would do what mummy has always done...picking me from school like really early morning. Wondering how this time identification of who is picking me is going to be its already very early in the morning on the breakoff day i am ready and prepared.

With the morning noise in the dormitory and traffic of everyone moving up and down. Metallic beddings running almost empty and the care frees still all covered up deep asleep i run so fast to the class teacher at around 8am to pick my report card and all the other neccesities which i get because my teacher knew my protocal for the day, all set am waiting for my dad and leave for home. Time goes by and everyone is almost out of school and closing in to among the last kids around compound, everyone asking me what am waiting for being this wasnt a time my face ever appeared anywhere at school. Around the dining area was a wall that had MTN call boxes where you slipped in a card or drop a coin from 200 shillings to make a call or beep and be called back. Kept beeping mummy with my mtn card that had some beeping power and updating her about dad's no where abouts.

Its about 11something AM and a car am familiar with drives in and with my spot where i was all clearly seeing whatever comes in and out, its my dad. Very excited i jump up and follow the car to where it parked and greeted muzeeyi(old man) and he asks me if i have got all that i need already which i confirm with a yes,  he tells me to go pick up my stuff we leave. On existing school to the highway just a few metres is masaba trading centre set with a couple of activities, a taxi stage by the road, couple of rolex stands positioned in different branch  coners, a (kibanda) video hall with pool table where you pay to play. A football pitch just right behind the video hall and alot of other businesses set making the trading centre really a busy one and within was a muram road that shortcuts to our village on my dad's side  (kalungu)and its the exact route they are taking, uhmmm....it catches my attention but fast foward it a conclusion am seeing my grand parents because it was quite a while since i last saw them so i  dont mind at all i know that at the end of the day i will be home. With my metal suite case painted blue and grey and matress with other belongings we arrive at home in the village and everyone is excited to see me all dressed in my school uniform which was navy blue trouser and white short sleeved shirt with a neck tie so smart. I run to greet grand mother and father and all my other uncles and siblings. It already was an adventure for me going back home, the village stop over wrapped it up for me. My wish to be home came with extra fun.

We move around with two of my siblings, do all sorts of stuff and i even change my clothes so i dont get my uniform wasted. Within no time its almost evening and we have to leave so we dont move late night, i immediately run first to the car so i can take my seat and to my surprise when dad gets to the car with my two siblings tells them to carry off all my stuff to the house and he calls me out saying "ogenda kusigala nja kukima", that am staying he will come pick me up. This really got me confused so bad wondering what trick was really going on, unnotified, unpreapred and totally uncalled for i thought. So i calmly but teary ask him to help me with his phone so i can make just one  call to my mum (ogenda mugamba kki) he asks what i am going to tell her which left me silent,with all the discomfort i had with my father's side especially the village i felt soo bad and looked at my dad so angry. Waves off to everyone else and says good bye to me, he gets in the car and they drive off. I sit down crying my eyes out and yelling at everyone that i want to go be with my mum. This catches my late grand father's attention. My grand father was a very humble old man at about 70years old and he was a kind that would handle things and issues at his own pace, down to earth and a low toned speaker. He comes right next to me and tries to comfort me and assures me that in just a few days i will be with my mum. This felt really good and uplifting, it all seemed like grand father knew even the exact dates i will be taken home. He takes me away counselling me that everything will be fine. In my pockets i have 7000 shillings a balance i had after paying off my canteen debt at school,  an idea sparks in my mind immediately. Grand father had his small nokia phone and saw this as a chance to reach out to my mother. She really  needed to know about this after all she was all expecting me home at the end of the day which seemed very impossible for me already.

So i reach out to grand father to help me with his phone,  he notifies me about how he had no credit which i already had a solution for with my 7k. I cool down abit now that i know i have a phone to use, i call up my siblings with excitment to take them for a snack and booom we go buy grab and eat and the exictment comes for a moment. On return i come back with scratch airtime and load it. In uganda back then around the 2000's we only used to load airtime by buying scratch cards that had about 11 numbers onto them that amounted to 500 or 1000-5000 shillings worth of credit. And voice bundles were really cheap that you would load 1000 and get about 60mins talk time or even 24hrs on airtel especially which then hard not merged. It was warid then and zain. So i load credit on my grand father's warid line and call up my mum. Immediately i notify her about how my dad had "thrown me in a forest" i dont like the place and i want to go back home tearing and crying to death little did i know that grand ma was just behind me listening to all my conversation with mummy which she reserves and continues with her business. Because of the too much anger and treat that my dad left me with....i looked for a word that would best fit my disappointment and rounded up calling my father's parental home a "forest". Mummy shocks on this and promises to do something about it.

Afew days past on a nice afternoon my mum drives in with my aunt and my aunt's husband who works with the police force under intelligence department. The excitment lined up on my face with the broadest smile. Finally this misery is coming to an end. All i want is us to drive out of this place. They are welcomed and settled in to the sitting room. Me already seated in the car so that an incident that happened before doesnot happen again and if it does this time round no one can move me out of the car. In the car assured that my mum cannot leave the place without me. They have the a talk and from the outside i hear my grand ma reporting, "omwana nalyoka adda ku ssimu nayita awaka ekibira.......haaaa!!! Kwegamba ffe ababera wano tuli nkima....omwana atuyise ensolo....yiiii.....mutwale,  mutwale omwana wamwe mutwale. Omwana kitaawe yamuleeta wano ayongere okumanya baane abereeko ne ba jaaja bbe naye nalyoka ayogera atyo. Sikirabanga yamala akiraba." My mum wasnt against anything but not agreeing with the way my dad handled the issue of spending a holiday in the village. She kept on apologising. "Maama otusonyiwe omwana byeyayogedde yabyogeza buuto naye ne kitaawe kyeyakoze kibi. Teyangambako nti omwana agenda mujja kusomero amuleeta awaka wano direct. Mubutufu yabadde atleast ayina okuwooza wooza omwana mpaka nga akiriza okusigala ate bweyamusaba essimu ankubire yadda mu kumubuuza agenda kungamba kki. Tonny naye yakoze buubi. She goes ahead and calls dad amdist everyone to prove the innocence and my father doesnt pick up. All this drama happening the officer is amidst seeing every moment and playing a witness to either sides. My grand father sided with my mum and accepted to let me go in good faith and when i am ready i will come back and spend time with them. They come to a conclusion and am called to come and say good bye to my people and with guilt in my face i couldnt face my grand mother who was also seeing me in her own way. Officially sent me off to go back home in peace.  For me that in my life was a thing that just kept me wondering how on earth do  fathers come up to conclusion.



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