My mother has taught me the meaning of commitment to a dream , a vision. She, among other colleagues of hers who dreamt of a better future for their children realised that we would need exposure beyond our small villages and the hills that surrounded us. I was trying to do my best in class but my mother felt I was falling many points short of my true potential. However , she had heard of a Catholic primary boarding school for girls some 200miles or so beyond our village. She had promised me: “If you can be the best in your class at primary level, you’ll go to a school of your choosing for high school.”
With the pace I was moving at, I was about to go to a school that would be available. I was in a public primary school with so many kids. There was a small chance really of excelling for me because I wasn’t that super intellectual kid who would emerge from that mud without serious attention. She was right. When I got to this boarding school, I realised that town kids are given a lot of attention. Teachers are careful how they teach, what they teach. They expect nothing less than the best from their students. They are preparing the kids for the future. Majority of the kids in my village school were going to take the path that fate leads them to. My mother believed that fate wasn’t enough. I can not emphasise enough how little she earned then and how little she reserved for herself. With time as we advanced in our studies on many occasions she was left with nothing but debt for all of the kids who depended on her to get to and through school.
I remember the day I first went to this distant land. If I had not been to the city as a child, I would have thought this was a city. The town was big. The school was set on a hill, like most church schools. It was in a nicely secluded area with all the nice breezes and beautiful environment. I was astounded by how decent most of the children looked. There was a good number of kids from humble families with parents who carried their dreams and planted everything in us. Then there were some kids who had packed milk and processed juice, cakes, all kinds of fruits. Some kids spoke of places they had visited, families they knew. They took confident strides around the compound and clearly exuded confidence and pride like they belonged here. In this school I was made to rebound the second last year of primary level (primary six) so I could finish primary level at the same place with everyone. My mother and I were counselled by this kind gentleman saying I was very young and had all the time to learn and grow in this class. I agreed to that. After all, I was in a better school now and I knew I wasn’t dense. It was merely a necessary adjustment for me to become better.
This decision my mother made changed the trajectory of my life. I know many parents have done things like this and made have made even bigger sacrifices. I write these things because I know that I can not take for granted anything that this queen has done for me because life could have turned out differently. Every step she made was the break that I needed to break free from certain obvious paths for many other girls that didn’t choose the situations in which they later found themselves. Some parents had more money but it met other personal and family needs. My mother decided that the best gift she would give me in this life was education (eventhough she did shower me with an abundance of love).
On the first day I cried so much when my mother left and I looked around at a strange land hundreds of miles away from home and from everything familiar. I was going to stay in this place for three months before returning home. I found some very few familiar faces and some new faces of kids who had also come from my place to gain exposure in the same classrooms where the big town kids sipped from the wells of knowledge and gained a bright future (one would day the Ugandan dream but I think we haven’t defined the dream clearly yet).
I started to make friends slowly, making good progress in class and finding my place and voice in this crowd of 800+ kids from ages 5 to maybe 13 or 14 years. I also found my confidence and individuality in this time and carefully kept my inadequacy, insufficiency and timidness in a secure place deep inside. I must have been so good at this because I managed to convince the kids to vote me as a minister for environmental affairs towards the end of that year and in the next year, Primary seven as head girl / head prefect making me the top manager of all student leadership. I smile with my face and laugh in my heart with the village girl as I write this. By the end of my first ear in this school, I was indeed among the best three kids in my entire class. It was during this time spending my last two years of primary school in this place that I subconsciously decided I would never be a village teenage wife or a school droupout. I was meant to be more. I was going to search for a greater meaning to life. I was going to be successful. When I saw those rich kids eat posho and beans from these same metallic plates and take porridge from the plastic cups, sit on the same little wooden desks, I decided I would try my best and give a shot at the same dreams they were having and later on of course as I became more confident in myself, to dream my own dreams.
Thank you mummy.
Mother dear. 