I’m about to tell you three lessons that slapped me awake harder than any 8 AM lecture ever could.
And no, I didn’t get them from a textbook. I got them from two mothers who barely finished high school, and an oracle in Kifuuta who probably knows more about life than Google.
Grab a chair. This one’s got laughter, tears, and stuff you’ll actually use.
1. Your Name Is Not Just Noise – It’s a Blueprint
Let’s be honest: none of us got a say in our first name.
You didn’t walk into the delivery room and say, “Hi, I’d like ‘Champion,’ please, with extra confidence.”
I ended up with three names, thanks to three women who loved me too much to be boring about it.
Maama Rebecca named me Immanuel because I showed up on Christmas, right at lunchtime. When I asked her why, she laughed and said, “Immanuel means God is with us. If God is with you, who can be against you?”
Maama had jokes and theology in one sentence. Respect.
Maama Agatha Nanungi called me Joseph. “Your father is Joseph,” she said. “Joseph means a just man. Be righteous, even when nobody’s watching.”
Maama Agatha was a nurse from Nsambya. She didn’t raise boys who cut corners.
Senga Julian, may her soul rest well, named me Benedicto after my uncle Benedicto Kasekende. “Benedicto means someone with luck,” she said. “And that boy was a great teacher. May some of that stick to you.”
Later, when I sat with the clan oracle in Kifuuta, Kyotera Buddu, he looked at me and said:
“The names you give children are not decoration. They are directions. A bad-omen name is like giving your child a flat tire before the journey starts.”
So here’s the lesson:
Before you name a child, Google the meaning. Ask the elders. Don’t just pick a name because it sounds nice in a TikTok video.
Your name predicts the story people will tell about you before you even open your mouth. Give them a good story to start with.
And yes, with God with me, a just man, and luck in the mix… how could I not try to shine? That’s unfair advantage right there.
2. Your First Salary Is Not for Bottles – It’s for Blessing
Maama Rebecca studied stenography in Nairobi.
Maama Agatha studied nursing at Nsambya.
Two different careers, one identical rule:
“When we got our first salary, 75% went straight to our parents.”
They said it like it was obvious. Like breathing.
They called it “the beginning of luck.”
Nowadays? A kid gets a first salary, and the first move is to book a table, stand on crates, and start buying rounds of lager and tequila like they own the brewery.
Bro, that’s not celebrating. That’s laying your foundation on sand.
The elders knew something we forgot:
When you honor the people who raised you first, doors open.
Not because it’s magic, but because gratitude keeps you humble, and humble people get taught, trusted, and promoted.
Try it. Next time money lands in your hands, send something home before you send anything to the bar.
Watch how your life stops feeling stuck.
Laughter here: If your first salary disappears into alcohol, don’t be surprised when your future disappears too.
3. Admire Yourself, Humps Will Come Anyway
Both Maamas taught me this:
“Admire yourself. Wish yourself the best. The road will have humps, but humps don’t stop the car. They just slow you down.”
We spend so much time waiting for permission to feel good about ourselves.
Meanwhile, life is out here throwing potholes, traffic jams, and random drama.
If you don’t admire yourself on the slow days, you’ll quit before the fast days arrive.
Learn to say, “I’m learning. I’m growing. I’m not there yet, but I’m not where I was.”
That’s not pride. That’s fuel.
The Point?
Knowledge kept locked away is like fire under a basket.
It looks safe, but it’s useless until you let it out.
Maama Rebecca, Maama Agatha, and the oracle in Kifuuta didn’t give me degrees. They gave me direction.
Now I’m passing it to you, because maybe your parents never told you this stuff either.
So here’s your homework:
- Find out what your name means. If it’s a bad omen, start building a new story with it.
- When your first salary comes, bless your parents first. Luck follows gratitude.
- Laugh at the humps. They’re proof you’re moving.
Life is too short to learn everything the hard way.
Some lessons are cheaper when you learn them from someone who already fell in the ditch and climbed out.
Now go on. Shine. Your name expects it.
What’s the meaning of your name? If you don’t know, ask your elders today. You might be surprised by what’s been waiting in your own name all along.
