Daniel Bwerukya Musisi Kyanda

Today I attempt to put a few words on paper to represent what you mean to me and how I have handled your departure. Our rich language has a word for death that sounds like a violent drum beat. The word is, "afudde". I do not like that word because it denotes a kind of finality an end an inevitable completion. So I deliberately use the word "agenze" which describes a kind of departure...a long journey. The Baganda also have an expression regarding death that speaks of a transition where you become one with the winds that dry the clothes. It is better for me to think of you as having travelled and transitioned to a different reality. 

The news of your departure hit hard. I felt as though I had been immersed in a pool of very cold water. Everything from that point onwards was like a dream. How quickly you moved from being a person to being a body. From "omuntu" to "omulambo". How swiftly the crowds gathered and how news of our loss moved through the city and across the world. 

I described you as a colossus because of the depth and breadth of the life you lived and what my sister calls your impact. I had worked with you on several occasions in the past and had seen the content of your curriculum vitae which I was working on to see if I could come up with a book...a record of some kind regarding your life. 

Every so often someone comes up with a record, a video a picture of you and a memory of the life that you lived and the effect that you had on them. These are now fascinating and also frightening reminders of how close and also how far and fleeting life can be. The last time we spoke we were at the hospital getting you checked in. I did not know that that would be the last time we would have a conversation. What I am grateful for was that at least I got to see you and possibly come to terms with the eventuality of your passing. 

Because of your work I now often refer to myself as an ICT Consultant. We wrote many proposals and shared ideas for projects from all over the place. I got the opportunity to work for you during your time at Ndejje University as well as for the All Africa Conference of Churches. Later on I helped you with the writing projects that attempted to capture fragments of the work that you had created covering all sorts of topics. 

Many are comforted by the fact that you have at least left them with 'reminders' or children that bear a resemblance to you and that you can continue to live through us. 

I am saddened that I can no longer hear you clear your throat or shuffle through the corridor. That I cannot hear your voice as you harmonize with mother to the tune of your favorite songs. The yard you planned for and took care of is now an empty space. You loved to walk around taking photos of your favorite flowers as they bloomed. Sad that I can no longer share with you some of the cakes that I bake or any other sweet treasures. You knew the yard so well you often warned me what parts I needed to avoid as we walked. I am fighting not to have any regrets but it is hard. The numerous photos you took and others that you asked me to take are some of what I ow have left and will cherish. 

They called you Daniel Bwerukya Musisi Kyanda. Bwerukya means sunrise...what we see though, is a time when the sun has set on our household. We are confident by faith that you have moved on to a better place and that our Eternal Father has us safely in his hands. I hope that your entrance into the next world was peaceful. Rest well Dad!