Mayombo gave his all
NEWS of Mayombo’s death came like an arrow, as if someone had just hit you hard in the stomach, leaving you momentarily breathless. Later, I recalled an old poem: The steed bit his master; How came this to pass? He heard the good pastor cry, “All flesh is grass.†So you stifle the pain, and st
NEWS of Mayombo’s death came like an arrow, as if someone had just hit you hard in the stomach, leaving you momentarily breathless. Later, I recalled an old poem: The steed bit his master; How came this to pass? He heard the good pastor cry, “All flesh is grass.†So you stifle the pain, and start looking for words. Ages ago, one poet put it simply:
The voice of the last cricket
Across the first frost Is one kind of good-bye, It is so thin a splinter of singing.
So I attempt a splinter of a song. There lived a man, a rare man, for he was of noble heart, noble mind and noble deeds. His name was Noble Mayombo.
Although I knew Mayombo from 1986, we became friends when he was deployed to State House as Aide-de-Camp to H.E. the President. Many times when the President was busy in a meeting, Noble and I would sit nearby chatting. We chatted about many things: the Movement, the youth, some development programme or policy, a funny story, our experiences.
We became good friends. Often, I would chance on him, head buried in some papers, reading and scribbling. “Oh, no, not again!†I would say, and we’d laugh. We would argue, and in the middle of a heated argument, he would throw in some humourous remark or recall some funny incident, lightening the moment.
Noble combined those most valuable qualities of a truly educated person: knowledge, humour, down-to-earthiness, confidence, excellent communication skills and total commitment to any work he was assigned. He was also brilliant. I think this was a gift from his Creator. And he used it well.
Because he was so easy to talk to, I would share with him the tricky problems connected with my work. I was always amazed at how quickly he could analyse a situation and come up with a solution, often spicing it with his humour.
I recall once ringing him when I had to quickly drive to Gulu and wanted to know if the road was secure. He assured me there was no problem. I hesitated and asked what I should do if a lone rebel happened to be lurking around and tried to ambush me. “Don’t you know how to duck?†he quipped, then proceeded to arrange for two armed soldiers to escort me.
Noble would often talk about his first class session at Makerere University when he was admitted for Law studies. The lecturer walked in, took stock of the students and turned to Noble, who was the shortest and smallest. “Young man, did you read your admission letter? Are you sure it said Makerere University and not Makerere Kindergarten?â€
He sometimes talked of the time in Fort Portal when he brought his mother to meet the First Lady at a public rally. After the greetings, his mother turned to Mrs. Museveni and said: “Madam, I am giving you my son. Please look after him.†Noble always became emotional when he talked about this. I think he loved his mother deeply.
After he left State House and moved on to CMI, we kept talking: about the challenges facing the Movement and our place in the struggle. If we met at some meeting, he would insist that we should form an association of children of clergymen, and he would suggest some names to start off with, insisting that I be the chairperson. Every time we met, he wanted to know when I was calling the first meeting.
I am dwelling on this lighter side of Mayombo because, given his enormous accomplishments, his huge stature in security and political circles, and the seriousness with which he treated national issues, there was this very humane and endearing side to him.
He was always quick to help those in need. We were once seated outside when someone approached him and said he had a problem to solve but didn’t have even a shilling. Noble dug into his pocket, found some money, and said: “Now, this is what I have. So why don’t you take half and I keep half?’ The young man said: “Afande, that’s fair,†before grabbing his half.
Mayombo’s public record is known to most Ugandans. Without doubt, his contribution to this nation during so short a life has been remarkable. Someone once said that if you spend your entire life working only for yourself, your achievements go with you and your memory is soon erased. But when you spend your life working for others, your deeds remain behind and become testimony that ‘here was once someone called so-and-so’.
Noble was committed to the Movement. One would say the Movement was virtually his life. It is difficult, in fact impossible, to think of Noble Mayombo separate from the NRM, to which he dedicated his entire adult life.
Not only did he take part in the armed struggle to remove dictatorship, he became even more intimately involved in the struggle afterwards to resist evils such as ignorance, sectarian divisions, terror against civilians, political subversion and global economic exploitation.
He played his role admirably up to his last days. How else should I end this personal tribute but with our old NRA tune, another splinter of a song:
Mayombo alikufa kwa mapambano
Ushindi wetu ni wa lazima.
Wazalendo! Pamoja.
Wazalendo! Pamoja.
Wazalendo, Ushindi wetu ni wa lazima.
Kweli, Ushindi wetu ni wa lazima.
Hope Kivengere
Former Pree Secretary to the President
The voice of the last cricket
Across the first frost Is one kind of good-bye, It is so thin a splinter of singing.
So I attempt a splinter of a song. There lived a man, a rare man, for he was of noble heart, noble mind and noble deeds. His name was Noble Mayombo.
Although I knew Mayombo from 1986, we became friends when he was deployed to State House as Aide-de-Camp to H.E. the President. Many times when the President was busy in a meeting, Noble and I would sit nearby chatting. We chatted about many things: the Movement, the youth, some development programme or policy, a funny story, our experiences.
We became good friends. Often, I would chance on him, head buried in some papers, reading and scribbling. “Oh, no, not again!†I would say, and we’d laugh. We would argue, and in the middle of a heated argument, he would throw in some humourous remark or recall some funny incident, lightening the moment.
Noble combined those most valuable qualities of a truly educated person: knowledge, humour, down-to-earthiness, confidence, excellent communication skills and total commitment to any work he was assigned. He was also brilliant. I think this was a gift from his Creator. And he used it well.
Because he was so easy to talk to, I would share with him the tricky problems connected with my work. I was always amazed at how quickly he could analyse a situation and come up with a solution, often spicing it with his humour.
I recall once ringing him when I had to quickly drive to Gulu and wanted to know if the road was secure. He assured me there was no problem. I hesitated and asked what I should do if a lone rebel happened to be lurking around and tried to ambush me. “Don’t you know how to duck?†he quipped, then proceeded to arrange for two armed soldiers to escort me.
Noble would often talk about his first class session at Makerere University when he was admitted for Law studies. The lecturer walked in, took stock of the students and turned to Noble, who was the shortest and smallest. “Young man, did you read your admission letter? Are you sure it said Makerere University and not Makerere Kindergarten?â€
He sometimes talked of the time in Fort Portal when he brought his mother to meet the First Lady at a public rally. After the greetings, his mother turned to Mrs. Museveni and said: “Madam, I am giving you my son. Please look after him.†Noble always became emotional when he talked about this. I think he loved his mother deeply.
After he left State House and moved on to CMI, we kept talking: about the challenges facing the Movement and our place in the struggle. If we met at some meeting, he would insist that we should form an association of children of clergymen, and he would suggest some names to start off with, insisting that I be the chairperson. Every time we met, he wanted to know when I was calling the first meeting.
I am dwelling on this lighter side of Mayombo because, given his enormous accomplishments, his huge stature in security and political circles, and the seriousness with which he treated national issues, there was this very humane and endearing side to him.
He was always quick to help those in need. We were once seated outside when someone approached him and said he had a problem to solve but didn’t have even a shilling. Noble dug into his pocket, found some money, and said: “Now, this is what I have. So why don’t you take half and I keep half?’ The young man said: “Afande, that’s fair,†before grabbing his half.
Mayombo’s public record is known to most Ugandans. Without doubt, his contribution to this nation during so short a life has been remarkable. Someone once said that if you spend your entire life working only for yourself, your achievements go with you and your memory is soon erased. But when you spend your life working for others, your deeds remain behind and become testimony that ‘here was once someone called so-and-so’.
Noble was committed to the Movement. One would say the Movement was virtually his life. It is difficult, in fact impossible, to think of Noble Mayombo separate from the NRM, to which he dedicated his entire adult life.
Not only did he take part in the armed struggle to remove dictatorship, he became even more intimately involved in the struggle afterwards to resist evils such as ignorance, sectarian divisions, terror against civilians, political subversion and global economic exploitation.
He played his role admirably up to his last days. How else should I end this personal tribute but with our old NRA tune, another splinter of a song:
Mayombo alikufa kwa mapambano
Ushindi wetu ni wa lazima.
Wazalendo! Pamoja.
Wazalendo! Pamoja.
Wazalendo, Ushindi wetu ni wa lazima.
Kweli, Ushindi wetu ni wa lazima.
Hope Kivengere
Former Pree Secretary to the President