The Kifuuta Oracle Who Saw It in Lusaka: For Mwanyinaze Nantongo, For All of Us Who Thought the Clock Was Not Ticking
Life is not easy if you carry a solitary life.
It makes you idle. Not busy-idle. SOUL-IDLE.
You wake up, you do the same holy things, you think you are disciplined, you think you are focused, you think you are spiritual, but slowly, unknowingly, you are accumulating years like dust on a shelf. The calendar is moving. Your age-mates are marrying, burying, building, carrying grandchildren. You are still in the same room, with the same inner voice, thinking the clock is not ticking.
Until one day, BAM! It hits you: You have lost your feelings. You have lost love. You have lost the Bolt speed of life.
When Solitude Becomes Your Own Enemy
God did not make man a solitary animal. And as long as social life survives, self-realization can never be the supreme privilege or principle of ethics.
At one point in life, you have to decide: Do you want to be a SACHEM, a chief among people, loved, challenged, insulted, corrected, celebrated, or do you want to be solitary, a king of an empty hut?
When you choose the solitary path for too long, your inner voice stops guiding you. It becomes your ENEMY. It stops you from doing anything. It becomes the police that never sleeps. You start questioning everything that once gave you confidence, everything that gave you expectations, company, erection of dreams.
Can I love someone and still think? Still fly?
My son, LOVE IS FLYING. Love is being sawn, floating, beating wings together. Without it, thoughts become solitary flights, beating wings in a closed bottle.
Mwanyinaze Nantongo, Naye Mwanagwe, We Told You
We told you when you commanded beauty.
Vehicles would park at Magwa Secondary School gate to pick you up. From home to school, boys fought to carry your books. You were a flag. You were a drum.
When you joined Makerere at Mary Stuart Hall, the whole of Buddu clapped. When you entered St. Augustine Chapel, you decided to bury that beauty in prayer. Holy, yes. But ALONE.
When you got the job at Bauman, you decided again to be solitary. No man. No noise. No risk. "I am independent." Driving a Range Rover.
Now you are 55. You have come back to disturb Mummy in our clan house. Why can't you stay in Mutundwe at Jjajja Seruma's house? Because the solitary house is now too loud. The walls are now shouting back at you. The silence you loved is now a punishment.
Mwanyinaze Nantongo, the beauty we praised is still there, but where is the company that should have grown with it? Where are the children who should be calling you Maama?
The Oracle in Zambia: Green Park Along Kafue Road
The Oracle saw this in Lusaka, Zambia.
I stayed alone in Green Park Houses along Kafue Road. My routine was perfect for a Bishop: morning Mass at Jesuit Chapel every day, work, gym, home. No woman. No noise. Just me and God and discipline.
After 3 years, I lost feelings. After 5 years, I lost love. I would come back from Mass, open the fridge, and eat silence, drink Mosi lager and Cognac, Rémy Martin, Xavier OX bottle, alone. I would speak, and only my own echo answered.
By the time I came back to Uganda after 12 years, everything was opposite and loner. I did not know how to hug. I did not know how to laugh in a group. I had become a stranger in my own clan. City girls took my hand in Abdul Mulasi swimming pool.
If I was not a man of character and strong backbone, that solitary poison would have dragged me, like many, into homosexuality, masturbation, and weird habits lonely men hide in dark rooms. I have seen many elite ladies who end up with their drivers, shamba boys, housemaids, or security guards as husbands. Not because those men are bad, but because loneliness breaks standards.
I asked priests, "How do you do it?" They told me the truth: For them, it is a spiritual CALLING. And it is not just a calling; it is 30 years of strict monk training, community life, rules, supervision, and brotherhood. They are never alone, even in solitude. They have a monastery.
We are not monks. We are human.
LISTEN TO THE GODS OF KIFUUTA: GODS NEVER CREATED ONE
Being spiritual is NOT the gate to heaven. Fighting God's comfort of a PAIR is running against God Himself.
Go back to Kifuuta, Kyotera, Buddu: the gods our grandfathers sent us are TWO. Always two. Kalanzi and Nalubula. Kibuuka and Nanziri Sita. There is no god who sits alone. They are pairs.
God would have left Adam alone in solitude. He had everything; Eden was perfect, with fruits, rivers, and gold. But God said, "It is not good for man to be alone." He sent Kawa. Not another man. Not a dog. A pair.
When the world was washed by floods and God was angry, Noa (Noah) did not enter the Ark alone. He entered two by two, every living thing. Male and female. Cock and hen. Lion and lioness. Even the ants entered as pairs. That was God's law: LIFE SURVIVES BY PAIRS.
So who are you to fight that law? Who are you to say, "I am better alone"?
The Oracle of Kifuuta Katooke said, "Solitary life is running against our God." And when you run against God, He excommunicates you.
