My dad was the superman of my childhood.
He knew everything...could do anything...could lift anything...could fix anything.
He was the full package,complete with a bullet scar on his back (and a tale to go with it)!
In my adult life, I’ve found myself thinking about my father’s very present influence on my life to date!
Here are seven lessons I learnt from my father…in no particular order of importance.
That was my dad’s one liner for every time his teenage boys (me) were being difficult to convince. I call it the “all argument ender”.
He always told the story of some older guy in his younger days (a teacher i think) who would do the same...and every time he told story he got into character, and said out loud (in a Gandalf voice)...
“They will learn the hard way!!”
I have constantly found this proverb holds true almost every time.
Whenever you get a good opportunity in life, don’t fight it...you may not want to live with the alternative.
I’m the youngest of eleven. Six girls and five boys. Naturally, when I was growing up, I had questions.
One of those days after watching fairy tales like Cinderella I walked up to my dad and asked “So are my sisters my step-sisters, or half-sisters?”
That was the last I heard of that. I was told in a very stern way “They are your sisters!”That was the end of that for me. The all-knowing guy had spoken, and everything he spoke was truth!
In our Ugandan/native cultures, the word for cousins, half-siblings, and step cousins is actually BROTHER or SISTER.
The whole village raises the child.
There’s a deep lesson in that.
Everywhere we lived while growing up, our neighbours thought my dad was one of two things: a photographer or a night club deejay… (They probably thought his day job was just a cover).
Let’s talk about the latter.
There were random days (Saturdays mostly) when he would turn on his AIWA music system, and blare music loudly. For no apparent reason actually. He owned a collection; a treasure trove of cassette tapes, and LPs of all kinds of music…and he just kept collecting more!
I listened to kwaito music…old country music…reggae…rap....just music for the sake of music.
I listened so much, I just woke up one day and I just loved music for the sake of music.
I met someone who asked me to close my eyes and imagine a world without music one day.
I saw a dark rock floating in space.
To this day I shudder when the thought crosses my mind.
My father travelled across a whole country to see me at school.
It was the first visitation day of my first year in secondary school. He showed up dressed up. Neck tie and waist coat, carrying some sort of camera rig.
That day was interesting. I had to answer so many questions when he left. My peers thought I had spent the day with some journalist…or photographer covering my story or something. Apart from playing very loud music, his other hobby was taking pictures.
In the collection of albums of his developed photos were very elaborate memoirs. He was extremely meticulous with something that was just a hobby. Just like that, my mother, my brother and I picked up photography as a hobby. Okay, of the three of us, my big brother could be the guy who pursued this photography thing furthest.
Pictures are not like videos.
Therein lies the power of photography; being able to hit pause on time and space…forever.
Two things amuse me on Ugandan downtown restaurant menus. Beef stew is simply referred to as “meat”, and gravy is called “soup”!
And it’s not cooked if there’s no cooking oil involved in the recipe. My dad had one of those no_cooking_oil_ involved recipes. We had one of those nights where it was just my dad and I at home, and he was on supper cooking duty. We had bought all the ingredients (meat, tomatoes, onions and other spices) apart from cooking oil. The actual recipe involved a pressure cooker, and many other cooking acrobatics that I think deserve to have their story told in another article. Just know, at the end of the day we had matooke, meat and soup!
In a nut-shell, work with what you have been gifted with!
When I was about four-ish or five-ish and I had to see my dad at work, I was taught to always go through the secretary. I would peer over the tower of a reception desk say something like “Good morning. I’m here to see Mr.Kasumba.”
Then Mr.Kasumba would have me introduce myself to everyone in his office. Half the time I was there because when I asked my mum some days ago if we could buy a certain toy she had brushed it off with “You’ll ask your father”. Looking back, I had no sense humour!
Growing up if you wanted something, or wanted to go somewhere, or had done something, you had to be able to stand up for it before my dad. You had to express yourself, and show cause.
I had a ball in art school many years later. A couple of our assignments relied on students being able to create works of art based on a hypothesis they can defend.
When I joined Uganda’s work force as a graphics designer, no one asked for an application letter or a CV.Countless times I found myself sitting across a desk from a possible employer speaking for myself.
Each of the four times that happened, I got the job!
One of the last/most vivid memories I have of my father was in hospital. I had travelled from school to see him. I sat at his bedside. He lay there, frail, with drips and tubes strung into his body. That was the weakest I had ever seen him all my life. He looked up at me, interrogated me if I got permission or just escaped from school…then he smiled…and said;
“All this…don’t let all this fool you… All this is going to be over soon.
We are going to be fine. Do not worry!”
And my heart sank!
Alas. It was not to be!
I have since run into some difficult corners in life. I have been homeless for like week…I have almost been strangled to death by random assailants. I have hit rock bottom many times.
But every time I have found myself. I find a mirror (or anywhere I can see my reflection) and tell myself “Fortunate. This will be over soon. This is the last time you cry these tears.”
“Trouble don’t last always”
I am thankful for my father.
He knew everything...could do anything...could lift anything...could fix anything.
He was the full package,complete with a bullet scar on his back (and a tale to go with it)!
In my adult life, I’ve found myself thinking about my father’s very present influence on my life to date!
Here are seven lessons I learnt from my father…in no particular order of importance.
LESSON 1: “They will learn the hard way!”
That was my dad’s one liner for every time his teenage boys (me) were being difficult to convince. I call it the “all argument ender”.
He always told the story of some older guy in his younger days (a teacher i think) who would do the same...and every time he told story he got into character, and said out loud (in a Gandalf voice)...
“They will learn the hard way!!”
I have constantly found this proverb holds true almost every time.
Whenever you get a good opportunity in life, don’t fight it...you may not want to live with the alternative.
 |
| "Whenever you get a good opportunity in life, don’t fight it." source: unsplash.com |
LESSON 2: Sisters Not “Step sisters”
I’m the youngest of eleven. Six girls and five boys. Naturally, when I was growing up, I had questions.
One of those days after watching fairy tales like Cinderella I walked up to my dad and asked “So are my sisters my step-sisters, or half-sisters?”
That was the last I heard of that. I was told in a very stern way “They are your sisters!”That was the end of that for me. The all-knowing guy had spoken, and everything he spoke was truth!
In our Ugandan/native cultures, the word for cousins, half-siblings, and step cousins is actually BROTHER or SISTER.
The whole village raises the child.
There’s a deep lesson in that.
 |
| Photo Cred: Franklin Kasumba |
LESSON 3: There will be no world without music
Everywhere we lived while growing up, our neighbours thought my dad was one of two things: a photographer or a night club deejay… (They probably thought his day job was just a cover).
Let’s talk about the latter.
There were random days (Saturdays mostly) when he would turn on his AIWA music system, and blare music loudly. For no apparent reason actually. He owned a collection; a treasure trove of cassette tapes, and LPs of all kinds of music…and he just kept collecting more!
I listened to kwaito music…old country music…reggae…rap....just music for the sake of music.
I listened so much, I just woke up one day and I just loved music for the sake of music.
I met someone who asked me to close my eyes and imagine a world without music one day.
I saw a dark rock floating in space.
To this day I shudder when the thought crosses my mind.
 |
| "I just woke up one day and I just loved music" Source: unsplash.com |
LESSON 4: A picture speaks more than a thousand words
My father travelled across a whole country to see me at school.
It was the first visitation day of my first year in secondary school. He showed up dressed up. Neck tie and waist coat, carrying some sort of camera rig.
That day was interesting. I had to answer so many questions when he left. My peers thought I had spent the day with some journalist…or photographer covering my story or something. Apart from playing very loud music, his other hobby was taking pictures.
In the collection of albums of his developed photos were very elaborate memoirs. He was extremely meticulous with something that was just a hobby. Just like that, my mother, my brother and I picked up photography as a hobby. Okay, of the three of us, my big brother could be the guy who pursued this photography thing furthest.
Pictures are not like videos.
Therein lies the power of photography; being able to hit pause on time and space…forever.
 |
| "...carrying some sort of camera rig".This was the actual camera in the rig. Photo cred:Franklin Kasumba |
 |
| "Therein lies the power of photography; being able to hit pause on time and space…forever." Photo cred:Franklin Kasumba |
LESSON 5: “Un-fried Fried Meat”
Two things amuse me on Ugandan downtown restaurant menus. Beef stew is simply referred to as “meat”, and gravy is called “soup”!
And it’s not cooked if there’s no cooking oil involved in the recipe. My dad had one of those no_cooking_oil_ involved recipes. We had one of those nights where it was just my dad and I at home, and he was on supper cooking duty. We had bought all the ingredients (meat, tomatoes, onions and other spices) apart from cooking oil. The actual recipe involved a pressure cooker, and many other cooking acrobatics that I think deserve to have their story told in another article. Just know, at the end of the day we had matooke, meat and soup!
In a nut-shell, work with what you have been gifted with!
 |
| "work with what you have been gifted with!" Source: unsplash.com |
LESSON 6: Show cause.
When I was about four-ish or five-ish and I had to see my dad at work, I was taught to always go through the secretary. I would peer over the tower of a reception desk say something like “Good morning. I’m here to see Mr.Kasumba.”
Then Mr.Kasumba would have me introduce myself to everyone in his office. Half the time I was there because when I asked my mum some days ago if we could buy a certain toy she had brushed it off with “You’ll ask your father”. Looking back, I had no sense humour!
Growing up if you wanted something, or wanted to go somewhere, or had done something, you had to be able to stand up for it before my dad. You had to express yourself, and show cause.
I had a ball in art school many years later. A couple of our assignments relied on students being able to create works of art based on a hypothesis they can defend.
When I joined Uganda’s work force as a graphics designer, no one asked for an application letter or a CV.Countless times I found myself sitting across a desk from a possible employer speaking for myself.
Each of the four times that happened, I got the job!
 |
| "Show cause" Source:unsplash.com |
LESSON 7: This will all be over soon.
One of the last/most vivid memories I have of my father was in hospital. I had travelled from school to see him. I sat at his bedside. He lay there, frail, with drips and tubes strung into his body. That was the weakest I had ever seen him all my life. He looked up at me, interrogated me if I got permission or just escaped from school…then he smiled…and said;
“All this…don’t let all this fool you… All this is going to be over soon.
We are going to be fine. Do not worry!”
And my heart sank!
Alas. It was not to be!
I have since run into some difficult corners in life. I have been homeless for like week…I have almost been strangled to death by random assailants. I have hit rock bottom many times.
But every time I have found myself. I find a mirror (or anywhere I can see my reflection) and tell myself “Fortunate. This will be over soon. This is the last time you cry these tears.”
“Trouble don’t last always”
 |
| "This will be over soon." Source: unsplash.com |
I am thankful for my father.
