LET ME TELL YOU!

LET ME TELL YOU.

“Let me tell you” was a phrase very synonymous with my mother. She always started her stories with that sentence, especially after a night out with her friends. You expect that this was going to be the best story, ever right? Well you would be wrong. Our mother was the King of cliffhangers, by that I mean she would leave you hanging waiting for more information. So, let’s say one of her friends died that morning, that evening be sure she is going to come in late and her first statement would be, “Kekimuri, let me tell you. My friend died.” Of course, as Kekimuri you would want to know more, right? Then she would sit in silence for a while and I used to think she was composing her thoughts on how best to continue the story, that wasn’t it. She would get up, walk towards her room and say, “let me go and sleep.”  That was my mother, she said more in silence than in words. I mistook her silence for not caring but as I grow older, I realise that there are situations that words can’t express fully the emotions going on, let alone for one to understand or comprehend them fully and express them. My mother did this a lot, let me tell you, became our signal for this story is going to end half way, you have to draw your own conclusions or hope that the next day she completes the story for you. Otherwise, we all learnt to abide in her cliffhangers.

My favorite story is how her and my dad met.Accor to my dad, he said that he heard her before he saw her (no, she wasn’t as loud as me) My dad was attending a recital, Beethoven Violin Concerto in D major,) p 61 and my mother was the violin soloist (https://youtu.be/ZQVs4MhX3xo) he said that she played so beautifully especially the second movement. He said that she was so unhurried, seamless like she had been playing the violin all her life. What he didn’t know is that she was practicing every moment she got. My cousin who grew up in Kamwezi (my mother’s village in Kabale) recently told us how my mother would tirelessly play her violin for the villagers’ day in, day out. Being the soloist meant that all eyes are on you at different intervals of the concerto so perfection is what you are aiming for and boy, was my mum a perfectionist!

Let me tell you about my mum, she was a giver. If she could, she would have given the clothes off her back. The thing about givers I have learnt they are not very good at receiving anything. They literally take that verse “it is better to give than to receive” seriously. Upon her death, we discovered in her wardrobe perfumes, bags, dresses, shoes, scarves etc all in their wrappings, tags still attached from different people whose lives she had touched during her lifetime. We were dumbfounded, some of these goodies had gone out of fashion and made a comeback, yet she had not touched them. My thought was that she would re-gift them at a certain point in time, sadly that time never came to, so we the girls of the house re-gifted them amongst ourselves. What I learnt was to embrace the now, the today no keeping for a later date. Appreciate people now because no one knows how long they will be here for.https://youtu.be/ox1r0OzIwoo

Let me tell you about my mum, the lover of music. We were blessed to raised in a home full of music. My dad is always blaring music upto now, if you passby his house on weekends, there’s music blasting depending on his mood, could be country, classical, choral hymns or oldies like Jim Reeves, Judy Boucher, Elvis Presley etc. The oldies were our road trips soundtracks.  I remember when my mum was admitted in Nakasero Hospital, he used to play for her music. My sister who worked in the hospital at the time said that  patients would compliment them on the music. Hahahaha. Our mum was always humming a tune or singing some Kikiga hymn, the one she taught me was ‘baryayaka(loosely translated they will shine bright like angels)’ I used to go around the house screaming baryayaka baryayaka, I didn’t even know what it meant but I would hear her sing it and I would just shout. Another of her favourite hymns is Through All changing scenes of life, (she knew the number in the Ancient and Modern Hymn book) that’s how much she loved music, she knew the numbers. That’s like knowing the track numbers of your favourite artist album without looking at the back of the CD case.  Her love for music has transcended time, most of her grandchildren have an ear for music. I have a nephew who would hum back a tone at the age of 3 years and maintain the key, the parents picked on this early enough he plays the piano. His baby brother is ever singing to himself in key. My nieces and nephews have musical bones either they play guitar, drums, piano or sing.  It’s in their DNA, they got it from their Kaaka (grandmother). Not to mention their grandfather who played the organ.  Through all the changing scenes is derived from Psalm 34 the title is God’s goodness. King David composed this after escaping from the King when he pretended to be insane (1 Samuel 21). This hymn was her go to hymn, upon closer look at the lyrics one can understand why.  The times are always changing what is, will not always be the only thing that remains a constant is God. His love. His Grace. His presence. His protection. His provision. For those who would like to give a listen here is the linkhttps://youtu.be/ox1r0OzIwoo

Through all the changing scenes of life, God is GOD! It’s been 6 years since I last heard her hum or sing a hymn but I hold onto something better, something more assured yesterday, today and tomorrow; God’s goodness.

Rest In Peace Keishemeza.