Losing My Cousin Brother on Easter | From Modest Beginnings to Financial Freedom

My time at the missionary school changed my life, not just in what I learned but in the dreams I held. I was set on attending well-regarded schools, the kind that could open doors to a better future. I studied diligently, aiming to transfer to either a respected private missionary school or a prominent public school managed by the government. Both were among the finest in the country, and to me, they represented a way to rise above my humble roots. After a year of secondary school, I applied to transfer to both. The competition was intense, with hundreds of students from across the country vying for a few openings. I was called to take entrance exams, and a few weeks later, a letter arrived that shifted my path: I was accepted to Masaka Secondary School, located in the center of Masaka city.

I was excited but scared at the age of thirteen. After relocating to the city and managing on my own, it was both thrilling and daunting. My dad and mom were reluctant. I was still young, not prepared to navigate everything alone, they believed. They preferred I stay closer to home, safe from the unknowns of the city. After days of honest discussions, I persuaded them. They arranged for me to live with my cousin, who worked at an insurance company in Masaka, along with his wife and their two children. Their home became my haven for a year, where I settled into a routine of school and family, unaware of the sorrow that would soon strike.

It all changed on Easter night. My cousin left around midnight on his motorcycle to pick up his wife from her brother’s house. I stayed back, expecting him to return shortly. An hour later, his wife arrived in her brother-in-law’s car, asking where he was. They had waited, but he never arrived. When she mentioned a motorcycle accident in the town center, fear gripped me. We hurried to the scene, and there was his bike, broken beyond repair. The sight hit me hard. I could barely think. I walked to my cousin Theopista’s house nearby to share the terrible news, my voice unsteady. His body was on the road, and this is something that I will never forget. The coroner came, and he was taken to the mortuary. He remained there one whole week and got transferred to the burial ground belonging to our family.

After the burial, the days blurred with grief and uncertainty. My parents had me stay with his widow to continue school, but I knew it wasn’t a long-term solution. It didn’t feel right for her or for me. I had three other cousins in Masaka, each married to accomplished men: a district doctor, an education officer, and a businessman with agricultural plants. But their husbands, for their reasons, weren’t willing to take me in. At a young age, I faced being on my own, a heavy reality to grasp. I had to grow up quickly to keep pursuing my education.

I was planning my future actions at that period. I rented out a small room and told my parents about the idea. My living alone at that young age was a matter of concern to them. I assured them that my elder cousin who attended the same school as I did (Masaka secondary) was close and would be of assistance in case of emergency. They agreed after a lot of talks. It was the first time I had rented out my place, and I was much too early into this independence.

As a young boy, I would bring out my report card at the end of every term to show my parents that I am coping to assure them and even me. The city was distractive, but I kept to the goal.

The city offered distractions, but I stayed on track. My three married cousins helped when they could, and their kindness meant a lot. Their husbands were often busy, but their small gestures left a mark. Another cousin, who worked in downtown Masaka but lived in our family’s village, sometimes brought me bananas from my parents. Those deliveries helped me get through the week.

Experience of those days taught me how important family and support could be. My family and cousins got me through the most difficult period, and I would have it to my heart to repay them one day. When I was economically stable years later, I did not hesitate to be of assistance to my family, bearing in mind they had assisted me. The death of my cousin happened that Easter night, and everything changed. It made me realize how much life is vulnerable and compelled me to take control of the future. It also taught me that nobody makes it on his/her own, and I had to grow up quicker than expected. Out of these wordings of loss and struggle, I constructed my road and, ultimately, got a state of financial stability, which is all written in my book From Modest Beginnings to Financial Freedom. My achievements did not start when I was at Masaka Secondary School earning my Ordinary Level School Certificate, but when I found myself and used the people around me to get to where I am today.