Spoken like drama, sung like a dirge

Alex Mukulu

Alex Mukulu,
Icon of drama and grammar,
The architect who taught Uganda how to speak, how to pause, how to feel.
Your candle has blown out.
But your profile refuses to fall into darkness.
Because legends do not die when the sun sets.
They become the road.
And you, Mzee Mukulu, now walk the Kampala Road of Lords,
Where every actor, every writer, every dreamer must pass.

Who can explain death?
No philosopher, no priest, no poet.
But we can explain love.
And our love keeps you alive
In every line, in every pause, in every stage light.
Kampala Road of Lords, tugenda nebyewawandika, just as Kampala mukooti of Prince Paul Kafero and Baana Kampala ngamwogela.
From Jinja Road to the National Theatre,
Your melodies are still calling us home.
I was one of your great addicts, Mzee Mukulu,
Drunk on your language accuracy.
Intoxicated by The 30 Years of Banana.
We kept our live ears in Bana Kampala nga bogela,
Listening to how you made ordinary talk sound like scripture.
And we danced to Ojjodemu Onkwane.
The melodies you formed that still sit on Jinja Road to the National Theatre,
Waiting for the next curtain to rise.
You taught us that words can build nations,
And silence can also speak louder than drums.

Death has no explanation.
But art has a memory.
And your memory is drunk into us,
Your children of the stage.
Your students of grammar.
Your people of the theatre.

So we do not say goodbye.
We say: Rest in Peace, not in darkness.
Let your spirit rest in light.
And when the curtain rises in the world after this,
We shall meet again.
You with the script in hand.
Me in the audience, listening.
And we will speak together, once more,
Line by line. Word by word.
On the stage of eternity.

Kitaro Kitaro dala, Master, The Oracles of Kifuuta Kyotera Buddu says: “The play is not over. Kampala Road of Lords, your footsteps are still leading us as you narrate the Passover to Jjaajja Petero Wakula'enume Kidza and Jjaajja Muguluma Mbaaga Mbuuku.”