Fare-thee-well, Mumbejja Nassuna Mariam

I’ve had bad days, terrible days, days that I wish could be wiped away from my memory, but Wednesday, November 3, 2021, will forever be the worst of them all. This is the day that my grandma, Mumbejja Nassuna Mariam passed on, after less than two weeks of sickness. My grandma was a great woman in my life, the strongest pillar in our family.

It is hard to find someone whose love towards you never fades away, but we had found Mumbejja. She has been there for us from the day we started understanding anything in life, until the day she breathed her last.

She dedicated her life to caring for us from the day we wear born, and she never got tired. From feeding us when we were little kids running around her big compound in Luweero, to calling us regularly on the phone after moving out asking us if we had eaten something, anything.

We are welcoming because of her for the way she welcomed everyone that came into our home with genuine smiles. We know love because of the way she loved us that loved her so dearly and those that didn’t love her that much. We are generous because of the way she was so selfless with her possessions, giving a hand to whoever needed it in any form possible. We don’t know hate because of how we never saw her explicitly hate anyone, and we are forgiving because of how we saw her forgive us whenever we crossed her, and anybody else that hurt her. 

Mumbejja taught us life skills not by sitting us down and narrating to us what needs to be done, but by the way she carried herself. Kindness for the weak and helpless, generosity for the needy, religion, humility, and the nobility that came from being a “Mumbejja.”

In absence of our fathers and mothers, Mumbejja gladly stepped into both roles and executed them in a way that made us never miss a thing. She was the first person to come on my VD in a school that was over 80km away. When my cousins needed her to attend those termly parents-teachers’ meetings, she was there. When my aunties got sick and needed someone to take care of them at the hospital, she was there. When they had kids and wanted them to stay with someone for a while as they set themselves up, she welcomed them with open arms. When Kampala or elsewhere got hot, we knew we could go to Luweero, in a place called home, because Mumbejja was there.

With her we felt safe, even though she was too old to throw a jab at our attackers, we knew we could not be touched by anyone with her around. When life got tough for us, we would tell her to pray for us, and we were 100% sure she definitely would.  

As we grew older and got some jingle in our pockets, we dedicated our lives to making sure she never lacked anything. Although we provided for her every need, we knew we could never fully repay her for all she did for us, all the sacrifices she made for us, all the prayers she sent us, all the warm hugs she gave us in times of despair, all the food she fed us with and the clothes she clothed us with, the laughter she shared with us, she pure, unconditional love she gave us, the kind of love we have struggled to find from someone else.

I say “us” because although most of my friends think I had the deepest connection with Mumbejja because of how regularly I posted about her on social media, the connection was equally the same with everyone in our family. A few days before she passed, the weaker ones had started crying because of her condition, and although I silently shed a few tears myself, I had to be the stronger person telling them that we were doing everything for her to get better, and indeed we did. On the morning of the day she passed, she told the carers that she was indeed grateful for all we have done for her not just in the hospital, but in her life as a whole. These words were painful to hear, because we knew we had done so little in the context of what she had done for us.

Now that she is gone, we are left with great of memories of her life that she shared with us, some of which we captured in photos, but most of them are ingrained in our hearts where they will live forever. These are bittersweet memories because we know we will never have these moments again, and we cry every now and then at the thought! She was our most prized jewel, our one and only! I have cried so much these past few days. You tell yourself to be strong and look for things that distract you but every now and then the thoughts come back and you find yourself sad all over again for a loss so big, of someone so irreplaceable!

We believe Allah will judge her with a mercy that far exceeds what she showed to us, and forgive all her sins the way she forgave all those that transgressed against her.

I have written so many things in my life, but even after spending 10 days writing this tribute, I still feel it is not enough, and that I cannot truly, fully, express how I feel right now after her passing.

Till we meet again, 

Love, 💓🌹

Norman Isaac Mwambazi and family.