By Arthur M. Katabalwa
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| Mummy with some of her grand children April 2015 |
On February 5, 2017 I sat down to have a
downgraded English breakfast. I made some brown toast, baked beans and sausages. I
don’t eat eggs these days but I had a fresh glass of orange juice. It was one
of those Sundays which I thought was going to be routine; have a lie in, no
church. I had planned to go and see my mother, Mrs Alice Bombo later in the
day. We had had a phone call the previous Thursday. Mother was impatient with
me. You see, I procrastinate a lot. Don’t we all? In the phone call, she had asked said
to me that “I would look for her…” Prophetic wasn’t it?
Then a phone call came in from my brother Yosam
Semugoma. He hesitated to tell me directly what the problem was. He sounded breathless
but I brushed it off. So I continued with my breakfast, watching TV. Then my
mothers’ house keeper called. She said that my mother could not be aroused from
her sleep. I thought "What kind of nonsense is that? They could pour cold water on her or shake her violently. She would wake up." So I continued with my breakfast. But
then I decided to notify my other brother Philip Miiro (we always talk). I
called him and he told me that he was rushing to Nsangi as he had also heard of
the problems at home. It was at that moment when I thought there must be a
problem with mother. Mummy couldn't be woken up. She was locked up in her room. And they could not get to her however hard they tried.
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| Sharing a joke with a friend Mrs Iga. |
Still calm, I threw on some tattered clothes, a
pair of battered shoes and I sauntered out of the house still clutching my piece
of brown toast. On my way to get into a taxi back home, with the heat from the sun beating
relentlessly on my back, I thought I was probably going in for bad news. I kept
calling home and while I was in Nateete, my brother told me in a very calm
voice “Mwenky, mummy afudde. Jaangu.”
Mrs Alice Elizabeth Namwanje Bombo was born in
a wealthy family in Kyebando, Wakiso district on December 13 1939. Her father, our grandfather
Jjjaja Serwano Mwanje was as well connected as he was generous. My mother was
the first born of 11 children. Her family was very close. Her mother died when
she was only four. So she hardly remembered her. Our grandfather married later
on in life and his wife, my mothers’ step mother took on the role of mother
without any reservations. To us, she has always been "Jjaja" and for that we are thankful.
Alice Namwanje was a very conscientious girl.
Quite Christian from an early start. Even with the trappings of her upbringing
(she mixed with Buganda royalty and upper classes) her feet remained firmly on
the ground. She went to Gayaza Primary School and later to Makerere College
School. After she went to Teacher training college where she first clapped her
eyes on a rather suave, dapper well suited, equally Christian Laban Bombo. They
were to later get married in 1965.
It is difficult to write about my mother in
isolation of my father. For a long time, my father dominated the family. My
mother dutifully remained in the background. I think on occasion she was quite
irritated by the way society treated Vicars’ wives in the Anglican Church. To
this day they are still taken for granted. But she kept those thoughts to herself. For
all my life, I was glad to witness a truly live and current love story. Up to
the day our father passed away in 2009, he would literally shake with delight
when he saw her-which to a worldly person like me; found quite embarrassing.
But then I suppose put my own relationship issues in the shade.
When our father died, our mother found herself
in a position she didn’t want. Here she was the widow of Rev Laban Bombo! She
was happy remaining in his shadow but now she had to keep his memory alive. I
think she struggled a bit with it. She spent some time travelling in The UK in 2010 thinking about things soon after his passing. And when she came back she was
ready to take on the mantle of being Mrs Alice Bombo, the widow of Rev Laban Bombo.
My mother was always fascinated by how she
seemed to be able to benefit from my father’s name. She called herself "Mukyaala
Bombo" with pride. What we all didn’t realize then was that she was “Mukyaala Bombo” not
for being his widow; but because she was "Mukyaala Bombo."
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| One the last photos taken of her. |
Mukyaala Bombo was very simple in her ways. She
was very meticulous. She knew where all her money was. She kept time almost in
a fanatical way. She loved kids a lot! She adored her family; her grand-kids. But to me, her youngest child, she was
mummy. All other things pale into insignificance when I think of the way she
was a mother to me.
In the years after my fathers’ passing, I faced
a huge crisis in confidence. I made loads of mistakes in my personal life. I
take all the blame. But rather than judge me as a Christian mother, she sat me
down and we had an in depth chat on why I was off the rails. And then after all
was said and done, she made me realize that it is never too late to atone for
my sins and start life again. And that is what I did. I am glad that she
witnessed my last three years where I have made such great strides in my life.
The last call she made to me we were supposed to be sitting down to talk about
a new exciting phase in my life which she has been witness to.
Mummy enjoyed life. She enjoyed it to the fullest. Being financially independent she was able to do what she wanted. My father was the adventurous kind and when he passed away, Mummy had thankfully got the bug. She also spent a lot of time with friends both old a new. On the village in Nsangi she seemed to be attending all sorts of functions. Until she died, she worked a full working week commuting to Kings College Budo to look after kids. She held several businesses and she was very active in the real estate business, owning a number of rentals.
Mrs Alice Bombo died from a massive heart
attack on February 5, 2017. She passed away in her sleep. The hope is that she didn’t
suffer. In death she looked asleep. Many people thronged our family estate in
Nsangi to accompany her on her final journey lying next to our father, The Late
Rev Laban Bombo. I looked at the multitudes of people; the high and mighty, the
great and not so great all sat in the gardens without pretense to class or
might of office. One member of government in silent contemplation summed up
what everyone thought that day. She said; “This Lady truly loved me”. Alice
Bombo truly loved each and every one of us.
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| Watching the rides (Center) at Alton Towers in England |
