‘Christmas will never be the same without dad’
Jan 11, 2009
LAST year’s Christmas was very different. It was exactly seven months since our family head, Mr. Perrens Elishama Lubwama, passed on. Though we hardly had Christmas lunch together as a family because most of us were married, he ensured that Christmas wa
Christmas and the New Year is a time to celebrate the family. The New Vision would like to celebrate the readers’ most cherished family heroes. Below, Evelyn Lubwama writes about her hero — her father
LAST year’s Christmas was very different. It was exactly seven months since our family head, Mr. Perrens Elishama Lubwama, passed on. Though we hardly had Christmas lunch together as a family because most of us were married, he ensured that Christmas was special in each of our families.
Ordinarily, it is the children who rush to their parents’ homes with Christmas goodies, but our father broke this trend. Being a very systematic and organised person, he did not have to wait for Christmas to shop and deliver his Christmas blessings.
As early as December 22, the driver would deliver foodstuffs, cards and presents to our various homes. We knew he never expected anything in return for his good turn, but even then the family home ended up overflowing with goodies from all of us.
My father loved God and the Anglican Church to which he belonged. The passion with which he loved the two increased when he accepted Jesus Christ as his saviour.
He was completely transformed and often regretted why he had taken long to make this decision.
His last years on earth were a testimony of a person yielding to the Spirit of God and wanting others to know about the treasure he had discovered.
I do not think I knew or know anybody else who loved to work as Mzee (as we called him) did. At 77, he was still agile and made his hands dirty with one thing or another.
When he began on a project, he never rested until he saw it through.
We, his children, sometimes thought he overworked himself and that he was too much of a perfectionist.
We often recommended that he rests, but to him, work was the natural way to live his life. He said he did not want to depend on his children for his upkeep.
It is no surprise that the Lord called him while at work, as he supervised what he hoped was going to be his last project. Indeed it turned out to be his very last.
Although daddy was a primary school teacher, he tried his hand at everything he thougwould be profitable. He ventured into farming, real estate, schools and retail trade without being intimidated by lack of technical knowledge in the different fields.
He got round this lacking by research, asking around and getting into joint ventures with technical people who could help him. And all the time, this paid off.
The greatest memory we (his children) hold of him is his love and the ability to make each of us feel special. He had a big heart (I think literally); he treasured his 10 biological children, his many adopted children and even the students in the schools he owned.
I cannot forget the many nights, as we grew up, when he checked on us in our bedrooms to ensure that we were well tucked in.
And when any of us was unwell, even with a slight flu or cough, it was he who got up in the night to give us medication; put a sweater around our necks, make raw egg and lemon mixtures for us and rub kyapa mbalasi ointment on our foreheads to soothe headaches and colds.
Little wonder, our spouses think that my siblings and I fuss a lot over our children. He practically taught us to do so.
The boys sometimes felt marginalised because daddy seemed to give us girls top priority. We all went to a good primary school, then on to expensive secondary schools, but our school dues were paid first.
Our shopping lists were also almost always honoured without query, yet the boys had to explain why they needed the things on their lists.
His explanation was simple: girls are more vulnerable, and he did not want any of us to be tempted to depend on anybody else but him, for sustainance.
Luckily, all his four ‘mothers’ — as he called us the girls — turned out right.
Am I trying to say my hero was perfect? No, he was not.
He made mistakes. He had weaknesses and failings, but this did not stop me from feeling lucky to have him for a father. I learnt many lifeskills from my hero.
First, I learnt never to expect quick, easy returns. He stressed the fact that wealth was worked for and never just got. He taught me to value work and to have a
healthy respect for wealth.
In fact, wealth was never one of the things we girls looked for in our spouses.
Daddy taught my siblings and I to always live within our means. His philosophy was: It is not how much money you have but what you do with it that matters, which is why though it is fashionable nowadays for people to get loans to finance their projects, my hero did not leave behind a debt for us to clear, when he passed on.
He had taken no loan. What he had worked for was all his. This made us proud of him.
Daddy taught us girls to respect and support our spouses and their families, and always emphasised to the boys that it was their role to provide for their families.
When we married, he made conscious efforts to draw our spouses into the closeknit family circle and even encouraged us to form a network of communication and support, to keep informed of what was happening in our lives.
When we got our own children, he taught us to love and be there for them, but to also discipline them, because we are just stewards. The children belong to God and the nation.
Lastly, my father’s love for God rubbed off on us. He was a liberal and open-minded parent. He let us get saved, even before he did, and even let us join the Pentecostal churches, which were despised and scoffed at in the 1980s. His words in the will he left behind say it all.
They reflect his core values and everyday I pray that God helps us to maintain his legacy. He told us to fear God, to avoid alcohol and witchcraft because there was no good in them; to love our nation, Buganda kingdom and to work hard since this would determine how much each of us would attain. He also taught us to love and support each other.
Like Scripture urges a man to leave an inheritance for his children and his children’s children, daddy did that; we each have a start in life. I surely missed him last Christmas.
It is a big challenge as the oldest girl in the family, to keep tabs on my siblings and make them feel special without Daddy. One thing is for certain: He imparted himself into each one of us, and so he will live on.
Please send in your hero/heroine of the family stories. The article should be between 800-1,200 words, accompanied with a family picture or of the person you are writing about. If you have an interesting story, but do not know how to present it, you can request for a reporter by calling 0414 337 127 or SMS Vision (leave a space) your request and send to 8198. Your hero/heroine could be still living or one who has already passed on. You can also listen to Vision Voice from Monday to Friday for stories. The winning story will earn that family a dinner for 20 family members
LAST year’s Christmas was very different. It was exactly seven months since our family head, Mr. Perrens Elishama Lubwama, passed on. Though we hardly had Christmas lunch together as a family because most of us were married, he ensured that Christmas was special in each of our families.
Ordinarily, it is the children who rush to their parents’ homes with Christmas goodies, but our father broke this trend. Being a very systematic and organised person, he did not have to wait for Christmas to shop and deliver his Christmas blessings.
As early as December 22, the driver would deliver foodstuffs, cards and presents to our various homes. We knew he never expected anything in return for his good turn, but even then the family home ended up overflowing with goodies from all of us.
My father loved God and the Anglican Church to which he belonged. The passion with which he loved the two increased when he accepted Jesus Christ as his saviour.
He was completely transformed and often regretted why he had taken long to make this decision.
His last years on earth were a testimony of a person yielding to the Spirit of God and wanting others to know about the treasure he had discovered.
I do not think I knew or know anybody else who loved to work as Mzee (as we called him) did. At 77, he was still agile and made his hands dirty with one thing or another.
When he began on a project, he never rested until he saw it through.
We, his children, sometimes thought he overworked himself and that he was too much of a perfectionist.
We often recommended that he rests, but to him, work was the natural way to live his life. He said he did not want to depend on his children for his upkeep.
It is no surprise that the Lord called him while at work, as he supervised what he hoped was going to be his last project. Indeed it turned out to be his very last.
Although daddy was a primary school teacher, he tried his hand at everything he thougwould be profitable. He ventured into farming, real estate, schools and retail trade without being intimidated by lack of technical knowledge in the different fields.
He got round this lacking by research, asking around and getting into joint ventures with technical people who could help him. And all the time, this paid off.
The greatest memory we (his children) hold of him is his love and the ability to make each of us feel special. He had a big heart (I think literally); he treasured his 10 biological children, his many adopted children and even the students in the schools he owned.
I cannot forget the many nights, as we grew up, when he checked on us in our bedrooms to ensure that we were well tucked in.
And when any of us was unwell, even with a slight flu or cough, it was he who got up in the night to give us medication; put a sweater around our necks, make raw egg and lemon mixtures for us and rub kyapa mbalasi ointment on our foreheads to soothe headaches and colds.
Little wonder, our spouses think that my siblings and I fuss a lot over our children. He practically taught us to do so.
The boys sometimes felt marginalised because daddy seemed to give us girls top priority. We all went to a good primary school, then on to expensive secondary schools, but our school dues were paid first.
Our shopping lists were also almost always honoured without query, yet the boys had to explain why they needed the things on their lists.
His explanation was simple: girls are more vulnerable, and he did not want any of us to be tempted to depend on anybody else but him, for sustainance.
Luckily, all his four ‘mothers’ — as he called us the girls — turned out right.
Am I trying to say my hero was perfect? No, he was not.
He made mistakes. He had weaknesses and failings, but this did not stop me from feeling lucky to have him for a father. I learnt many lifeskills from my hero.
First, I learnt never to expect quick, easy returns. He stressed the fact that wealth was worked for and never just got. He taught me to value work and to have a
healthy respect for wealth.
In fact, wealth was never one of the things we girls looked for in our spouses.
Daddy taught my siblings and I to always live within our means. His philosophy was: It is not how much money you have but what you do with it that matters, which is why though it is fashionable nowadays for people to get loans to finance their projects, my hero did not leave behind a debt for us to clear, when he passed on.
He had taken no loan. What he had worked for was all his. This made us proud of him.
Daddy taught us girls to respect and support our spouses and their families, and always emphasised to the boys that it was their role to provide for their families.
When we married, he made conscious efforts to draw our spouses into the closeknit family circle and even encouraged us to form a network of communication and support, to keep informed of what was happening in our lives.
When we got our own children, he taught us to love and be there for them, but to also discipline them, because we are just stewards. The children belong to God and the nation.
Lastly, my father’s love for God rubbed off on us. He was a liberal and open-minded parent. He let us get saved, even before he did, and even let us join the Pentecostal churches, which were despised and scoffed at in the 1980s. His words in the will he left behind say it all.
They reflect his core values and everyday I pray that God helps us to maintain his legacy. He told us to fear God, to avoid alcohol and witchcraft because there was no good in them; to love our nation, Buganda kingdom and to work hard since this would determine how much each of us would attain. He also taught us to love and support each other.
Like Scripture urges a man to leave an inheritance for his children and his children’s children, daddy did that; we each have a start in life. I surely missed him last Christmas.
It is a big challenge as the oldest girl in the family, to keep tabs on my siblings and make them feel special without Daddy. One thing is for certain: He imparted himself into each one of us, and so he will live on.
Please send in your hero/heroine of the family stories. The article should be between 800-1,200 words, accompanied with a family picture or of the person you are writing about. If you have an interesting story, but do not know how to present it, you can request for a reporter by calling 0414 337 127 or SMS Vision (leave a space) your request and send to 8198. Your hero/heroine could be still living or one who has already passed on. You can also listen to Vision Voice from Monday to Friday for stories. The winning story will earn that family a dinner for 20 family members