COFFEE- My Stream of Life

I am not a coffee drinker, but I can say boldly coffee has been a getaway for an ocean of abundance throughout my life!

You see both my mum and dad worked in the coffee industry, then known as the Coffee Marketing Board of Uganda. So when you think about it all life's basics that came my way like food and clothing came through the hands that give through coffee.

When it was time for me to join primary school there was a lot of disarray amongst the powers within, mum and dad disagreed on the perfect school for me. My traditional mum had gone ahead and registered me at a catholic boarding school and oblivious to what this meant I was ready for the journey. My forward thinking dad wouldn't have any of this and I have to say the best thing that he ever did for me then was set his foot down and say his 6 year old daughter was not going to a boarding school.

To the rescue was my maternal grandfather, a coffee exporter the late Cyprian Matte Kaddu. He proclaimed he had the best solution for my foundational years, and this was none other than Kampala Parents School a selective independent school which had a very progressive curriculum that contributed immensely to the person I am today. I can say with confidence my grandfather's many years and dedication in the coffee export trade was the pathway to many meaningful relationships one of which led to his knowledge and connection to this illustrious school. For the first two years in this school I spent many an afternoon in my grandfather's office and  it is here that  after getting  bored  playing with the coffee beans that I  got into  my newspaper reading habit that I believe birthed this occasional writing flair. I saw first-hand then, the daily tasks around the coffee trade that led to the realization, albeit hazy that the coffee bean was a great absolute for  my family as many of my uncles and aunts worked here and it is from this trade that the extended family received their daily bread.  

Over the years coffee became a vibrant part of me, in many ways even without drinking it, it was like the warmth of the sun and its aroma  is always refreshing to me. My dad did go  into retirement while I was still very young, so instead I got to see my mum work on in the coffee industry. Because of her great work, I was able to see 1st hand the difference between Arabica and Robusta coffee that helped me ace my social studies in school as it was a big part of the curriculum back then.  My first vacation job was at a coffee plant, which led to many new experiences and in school for many of my assignments while doing my undergraduate I would run to many examples of the coffee industry and coffee continues to be an active ingredient in my life.

So this year as my mum celebrated another year of gracing earth, being miles away as I thought of a meaningful way to celebrate her and with her, a coffee cake broke it down. Through her work in the coffee industry that she continues to do today, all joy, all health, all good things have continued to flow to me, my siblings and extended family. This beautiful plant represents the full bloom that is my life. 

A Tale of Brotherly Love

I grew up hearing about 2 grandfathers, whereas for the average person one will probably be your mother's dad and dad's father, my 2 grand fathers were both my father's fathers.

Of course I did ask him several times who his father was and he always gave me the standard answer both of them were his fathers.

When I was 10 an opportunity came where I thought no doubt he would finally name which of these 2 brothers was his father. A new girl joined our school that year and as fate would have it she had both my given names; Josephine Nakimuli. To solve this big mess the teachers asked us to both add our father’s names as last names. I went home explained the situation to my dad and obviously to him there was nothing to discuss. However my elementary school being an all-round school had gone further than teach us the basic history of our Kiganda origin but dug deeper into names, clans and so on. So with that kind of rich education, there was a problem there for me, you see my dad's name, Muwanga i had been taught didn't belong to any clan but was a name for one of the small gods. Even then I knew I didn't  want to be named after a small god and then of course there was also the issue that whenever I was asked who my dad was, more questions popped about whether he was a relation of Paul Muwanga, Uganda's one time president . In my so opinionated mind, this was another no no, I mean this Muwanga with all his great attributes as freedom fighter had only been president for less than 25 days in May 1980, he was no relation of mine and it didn’t sit right with me that he had not been president for longer.

So ,this  was the perfect opportunity  for me to get the answer  I had always wanted to know who of the 2 grandfathers was my actual grandfather. I presented my proposal to my dad explaining the reasons why I was not in favor of using his given name and asked if instead I could use his dad's name. Ever the  very open minded  guy , he didn’t refute my suggestion but instead laughed some and asked me to choose which one of the two brothers names I wanted to use , my persistence for him to  just  give me the name of who his dad was yielded nothing.

After much thought I went with the name that in my young mind had a better ring, convincing myself that if it was the wrong one he would make a suggestion for the other name. Surprise, surprise the guy didn’t butt an eye lid and instead signed the school documents that gave me the new acquired identity of Josephine Nakimuli Kigozi.

My thinking then was I had squared away the great mystery and guessed who his dad was, not that it mattered to him as he went through his life profusely always saying my fathers or our fathers depending on the context.

The 2 brothers, Serwano Bulungu Kigozi and Asanasiyo Sempala Lubwama with their mom

Fast forward as an adult living in the diaspora, I met a friend's dad who coming from the same clan as me was very interested in knowing about my heritage. At the mention of my 2 grandfathers names (see they are always mentioned indistinguishable as one part of the other), he beamed with pride, also calling them his fathers and sharing so many stories of love that made it seem like they had been joined at the hip. The image he painted made me wish I had seen them in action; see I have no living memory of these 2 great men. What I lack in memory has been substituted with stories and pictures over the years. It  has always been a joy  listening and reminiscing  on what their life was and am so inspired by their love for each other and keep looking out amongst my big family for their legacy of love above self. #StillSearching😉😆

Ps

In 2015 through a cousin who was working on our family tree, I actually found out, that of the 2 brother's, my dad's father   was actually Lubwama, not that it made any difference to me as even after that revelation I still am a Kigozi, especially as the 2 were one and the same person that no wonder my father never had reason to clearly call out who of these 2 brothers was his biological father.