Ibanda

 Perspective. That is why I initiated this process. I hoped that seeing something new might rearrange the boxes in my head in a more meaningful way. Perspective is what this particular trip was all about. So, full disclosure – there are three of us on the road now. Yiyi is now a veteran traveller and is introducing his sister Aleru [a. k. a. Leritu] to the wandering ways of his mother.

Ibanda is my mother’s birth place. Given that we made the trip with my mother and two of her sisters, we, of course, did the rounds with the usual relatives; my eldest uncle - the clan leader, my various cousins and their children. This particular trip, however, was about my grandmother.

the Aunts and the Children

You see, my mother is writing a book about my grandfather, who was a great preacher, priest and reverend of the Anglican Church. He was particularly active during the great revival of the 1930s. Stories are told of him on his bicycle weaving his way through the hills of Ankole, Toro, Bunyoro and Eastern Congo. Like most Bible teachers at the time [and, to some extent, today] he was very charismatic, bold, loud and distinct.

In comparison, until this trip, I knew little of my grandmother. In the midst of the tales, the trait that struck me was her quiet fortitude. She agreed to marry my grandfather, the great Amos Rwabihaiga, without ever meeting him. In typical Kinyankole fashion, at her wedding, her head was covered and she was only allowed to look at the feet of her guests. She had determined that if he had all ten toes and a clean pair of shoes, he was worth the risk. Apparently, he passed the test – I am a testament of that risk.

By marrying the Anglican evangelist, she agreed to manage his household, knowing that he would be absent a lot and that the majority of the responsibility of running that household fell on her shoulders. She had several children. Anything over five would overwhelm me. She had much more [her own as well as several who she adopted and raised as her own]. She stayed by this stranger’s side. She planted herself into his family until her death at the age of [approx.] 98.

She isn’t celebrated as much as the great reverend. However, I gleaned from the lack of noise, that there is a place for silent strength. So often my grandfather is portrayed as the icon of my mother’s family, the standard by which we should live. I have struggled with the knowledge that I may not have lived a life as loud and as meaningful as his was. Grandma’s soundless song showed me that there is a place for me too in the midst of this noise. I am not wrong.

In a related matter, Ayiko decided he will be selective in his interactions. His learnt a habit of feigning sleep when approached by strangers – which irritated and worried many of the Ibanda crew. Perhaps he too, inherited the quiet nature. Aleru on the other hand, was the belle of the ball, giggling and gushing in everyone’s arms.

Thankfully, we were able to squeeze into the tight visiting schedule, a quick morning climb up one of the nearby grassy mounts. The view of the town was stunning, sparking a discussion with my cousin about creating a hiking and cable car touristic exploit. 

One of the relatives we visited lived at the top of another mount – the children slept and I had to lug a dead-weight Ayiko up the steepest incline in my life. I want to own a house on a hill. The view is A. M. A. Z. I. N. G!