The Kifuuta Oracle Speaks From His Shrine in Kyotera
TAATA, I AM A LIVING EXAMPLE
Nze Taata wamwe, I am a living example and a person who tells you the truth. I am not speaking from a book. I am speaking from a wound that healed, but the scar is still there.
Listen to me before you laugh at me. I married on a Saturday at 1000 hours, and I separated at the reception, which I did not even attend. Yes, you heard me well. The wedding happened, the reception happened, but the marriage had already died before the plates were served.
It took me 20 years to divorce in family court in Kampala. Thirty-seven years of pain, twenty years of papers, twenty years of explaining to people what had already ended on day one. My 1990 wedding was at Christ the King Church, a big church, a beautiful church, full of people clapping. But the reception flopped at Design Center, Kyambogo University. The food was there, the people were there, but the love was not there. Kyova olabba, I don't receive Holy Communion. Sisembela.
And the bulldogs that pulled me for the photos at Afro Studio on Bombo Road saw it in my eyes. They were pulling a man who was already tired. Ask Joanita Kawalya how they turned Jim's song into Ben wange. The music changed because the heart had changed. The song was no longer sweet because I had not married my friend.
I went for the wealthy Gayaza family. I went for the name. I went for the money. I went for the beauty. I did not go for friendship. And I paid for it with 37 years of my life.
My children, do not make my mistakes. I am telling you now so that you do not cry later like I cried.
My Children of the Oracle, and you who intend to marry or get married, come close. This one is for you.
Do not rush. Sit down first. Before you buy the suit, before you sew the gomesi, before you book the hall and call the MC, ask yourself one small question that will save your whole life. Is this person truly my friend?
Kasekende, Muguluma and Misagga, look at your woman. Is she your friend? Yintana, look at your man. Is he your friend? Not your landlord. Not your prisoner. Not your decoration. Not your ATM. Your friend. Your mukwano. Your person.
Because things have changed, my people. We have turned marriage into a market. We have turned love into a shop. We have turned the heart into a stall where we buy and sell.
You meet someone, and you do no research about their character. No homework. No questions. You see a woman with a beautiful body, and you fall at once. Yintana, you see a man driving a Mudidi Mpekoni, and you fall at once. My dear, you have not loved the man. You have loved the Mudidi Mpekoni. You have married the steering wheel. You have married the noise of the engine. Now, when the car starts coughing in the morning, your love also starts coughing.
That is how you find some women in wealthy homes, yet their husbands are as thin as Olumuli. Thin in body, thin in peace, thin in happiness. They share a bed, but they do not share a heart. They share children, but they do not share laughter. They share a roof, but they do not share a life. The house is big, but the heart inside is small and lonely.
Then you hear someone whisper, "I am only staying in this marriage because of the children." My child, you have become a prisoner of your own children. You forged the chains yourself. Research is cheaper than divorce. Research is cheaper than tears. Research is cheaper than sleeping with a stranger for twenty years.
Kasekende, Muguluma and Misagga, marry your friend. Do not marry a woman simply because she has a beautiful face and an attractive body. Beauty fades. The face wrinkles. The body changes after children, after sickness, after years, after hard life. What will remain when beauty goes? If there was no friendship, there will be nothing left. You will be left with a stranger in your house, eating your food and stealing your peace.
Yintana, marry your friend. Not his money, but love must remain. The Mudidi Mpekoni becomes scrap. The bank account becomes empty. The land can be sold. The job can end. The business can collapse. What will remain when money goes? If there was no friendship, there will be nothing left. You will be left with a stranger in your bed, snoring on your dreams.
You will enjoy life when you are with someone you love and who also loves you. You will laugh on an empty stomach. You will dance in a small house. You will eat little sugar and little food and still be happy because happiness is not in the plate; it is in the person sitting next to you. Happiness is not in the house. Happiness is in the heart.
A woman who is not your friend can make your life very difficult. When you make a small mistake, she threatens to kunobba. She packs her bag like a soldier packing for war. She uses kunobba as a weapon. And some men, when they get angry, start insulting and threatening their wives. They shout, "Get out of my house! Leave and let us see whether I cannot find another woman." Don't end at Nakyeyombekedde.
Abana bange, I thought I had already told you that this woman was not in your league. Then you push and you beat her. You raise your hand because you have failed to raise your love. Listen, a hand that beats you cannot be the hand that holds you. A mouth that insults you cannot be the mouth that kisses you. If love has become boxing, leave the ring.
There is a man who pursues a woman, but she rejects him. He does not go back to work on his character. He does not learn patience, respect or love. He goes back to work on his wallet. He gives her large sums of money and keeps increasing the amount until she finally agrees, seemingly with a smile. My friend, that is not genuine love. You did not win her heart. You bought her signature. You rented her smile. And rent must always be paid. The day you stop paying, she will stop smiling. The day the money stops, the love stops. You will be shocked, but the Oracle warned you.
You find such women when their husbands die. This part is painful, but I must say it openly. While one eye is still shedding tears, the other eye is already asking, "Where is the land title of Zirobwe, and where are Wali Kifuuta ebyapa?" Before the mourning is even over, before the body is cold, she is asking, "Where are the logbooks? Count the cattle in Zirobwe, Kyampisi and Nakasongola! Where is the key to the safe in Kifuuta? Where is the will?" Such women are like obukolwa nga buzanyila musili ogwateganya banyinigwo. They did not marry the man. They married the title. They married the land. They married the bank. When the man dies, the marriage dies with him because the marriage was never alive. It was a business that has closed.
But a home built on love is a beautiful place, believe me. Even when you have only a little sugar and a small amount of food to share, you can still be happy. You can share one egg and laugh like kings. You can sleep on one mattress and dream like rich men. Love makes little become much. Love makes a hut become a palace. Love makes water taste like milk.
When your partner upsets you, they apologise, and you forgive them quickly. That is what has kept my marriage going: the fact that my partner is truly my friend. We quarrel, yes. We disagree, yes. But we do not go to sleep as enemies. We go to sleep as friends. A friend says, "Mukwano, I was wrong." A stranger keeps pride and says, "I will never forgive you." Pride has broken more homes than poverty.
Homes founded on genuine love are the ones where you find peace. Not big houses. Not big cars. Peace. You come home, and your chest rests. You come home, and your heart rests. You come home, and you smile before you even open the door. That is wealth. That is true wealth. Learn from Maama Apophia Rebecca and Mummy Agatha Nnanungi.
Namaata, Namayanja, Nakyajja, Namazzi, Nakuya, if a man desires you only because of your body, do not trust him. The body is a flower. It blooms, then it fades. If he only loves the flower, he will leave when winter comes. He will leave when the flower bends. He will leave when another flower blooms in the next garden. And if a man loves you only because of the car you drive, do not trust him either. He will love the car, and when the car breaks, his love will break too. He will love the money, and when the money goes, he will go with it.
You find some people who disappear as soon as the money runs out. When the pockets are empty, their love is empty. When the account is dry, their eyes are dry. They vanish like smoke when the fire dies. They vanish like dew when the sun rises.
But someone who truly loves you will not stop loving you even when you become poor. Even if you have many children together, that person will not grow tired of you. Even if your hair turns grey, even if your stomach grows big, even if your business falls, even if your body changes, that person will still sit with you. That person will still call you Mukwano Gwange Namaata.
When the money runs out, you sit down together and find a way forward. You do not sit and blame each other. You sit and plan together. You say, "Mukwano, what do we do now?" And together, you rise again. That is friendship. That is marriage. That is love with legs.
The Kifuuta Oracle tells you that, even when you die, that person will willingly accept the title of widow and honour the marriage you shared because your relationship was built on genuine love, not material benefits. She will not run to the land title. She will run to your grave with flowers. She will keep your name clean. She will raise your children with pride. She will say, "That was my friend. That was Mukwano gwange Karolinska."
So, Children of the Oracle, I ask you one last time. Look at the person beside you. Look at the person you want to marry. Is that your friend? If yes, hold them tight. Pray for them. Protect them. Ask the Kifuuta gods to hold both of you. If no, do not lie to yourself. Do not lie to your heart. It is better to wait for a friend than to marry a stranger and cry for fifty years.
As the Oracle settles in Kifuuta, he says, "Fumbilwa Mukwano gwo." Marry your friend.
