I have usually joked with people that a school and a prison are similar institutions because in both one is locked down for what seems like ages with people that are not of their choosing forcing them to have a common history. In this case I would like to clearly detract from this perception of school. I met a good boy and later man in Bryan Bukenya while I attended school. Even though I had some bad memories of school (and don't we all), my friendship with Bryan was one of those that kept me looking up and going the whole time. I'm proud and thankful to God that he made our paths cross. I will forever cherish those memories of our time together.
Meeting Bryan
Taking breakfast cereal as a midnight snack would never raise an eyebrow where we lived. If it were unlawful, I think we would all have been culprits at the time. When we were all done with 'snacking' as we called it then, someone would out the lights and then we would either continue our talking under our monochrome bed-covers or if we were too tired, simply wander off to dreamland, one by one. A few days into our established 'culture', along came this boy that preferred to dilute the culture after the midnight snack, baring down to his usually bright red or black designer underwear, to do 3 or 4 sets of 20 press-ups. Because he took his time while going at it and also did them with so much pomp and brilliant fanfare, this also meant the lights stayed on longer through the night -or morning since it would be past midnight anyway. It's these antics that sparked off a verbal fighting match between Bryan and the bigger boys who preferred to have the lights out as soon as the 'snacking' was done with. That's how I first became aware of Bryan Bukenya. For our lighting, we had long fluorescent tube-lamps that were activated by a starter switch conveniently placed right under the lamp holder and above the lamp itself. When there was no starter switch inserted, the lamps wouldn't light up however hard one tried. Someone tired of Bryan's early ante meridian antics seemed to take advantage of our lighting system and took the starter switches out of the lamps on our side of the accommodation hall so that once the lights were switched off the first time, they couldn't be switched back on without a starter switch. The following night, Bryan seemed disappointed but nonetheless, went ahead with doing his press-ups. I think he must have done only about 20 then because he made sure to count out rather loudly while he was at them. From my bunk, I could hear him through heavy breaths count 16-17-18-19… and then a loud bang at 20 as he collapsed on the floor, an exhausted mound of bone and muscle. That was Bryan for you. Even without lighting, he persevered with his exercises. About a week later, we had our first one-on-one talk together when one afternoon after classes, he brought me a starter switch that I think he must have ‘nicked’ from somewhere, to keep for him to use to start up the light lamps later that night. I enjoyed reading the Asterix-Obelix comics selection late into the night and my bunk was also located directly below the fluorescent lamp holder so I wouldn’t have a problem with the lights on a bit longer anyway. And that's how our relationship developed, from tackling a common light problem to sharing many other experiences together both in and outside of school.
The Bryan I knew
I was never one for football but when the English premiership football craze hit our lot, I remember cheering Manchester United's Fabien Barthez along with Bryan and some others. "The greatest team of all time", we all sang out then. Along the way, Bryan being an ardent football player as well picked up the trade name 'Blanc' after French footballer Laurent Blanc. I think it must have been Arsenal that took the day that season. The next football season, Bryan amazed us all that had supported Manchester United when he professed his love and undying support for Arsenal football club. I say ‘amazed us’ because it was virtually unheard of for one to switch allegiances so easily and especially with such seemingly determined passion. Unpredictable. That was Bryan. And yet even in his unpredictability, he maintained a rare sense of loyalty to his new-found cause; whether it was a football team, an idea, a friend or even simply a design brand. It's this quality in him that I think had many clamouring for Bryan not to be on the opposing side of their arguments. When Bryan believed in something, it was usually to the death. I only learnt later in life when we were out of school that his position on something actually softened if you sat down with him and had a one-on-one conversation, slowly and carefully laying your facts and figures down for him. If they weighed out against his, you'd succeed in having him on your side.
Political education had been one of the newly introduced teachable subjects for our school syllabus and the administration had brought on a new teacher to kick-start the process. Maybe it was the man or perhaps his teaching style, but in retrospect, I cannot remember a single soul back then that wanted the political education teacher gone even after the bell signalling the end of his lesson had gone. Bryan was one of those that literally pulled the teacher, tugging at his clothes to keep him in the class, every time the bell went. With political education, it was for us usually an insatiable hunger to learn. Bryan would take those political debates back with him to his accommodation hall, drawing up ever more controversy when he differed in opinion with others (or vice versa) on a particular issue. Another time, when one of our teachers had given birth, Bryan had led the entire class to raise funds towards the purchase of a 'congratulations' gift package and in small groups of ten had marched us to the teacher's home, a few kilometres outside the school campus. On our way back, Bryan took me on a detour for a small treat: to have a hair-cut in a real salon. Back then, that was a lot better than the single school barber who came in only once a week and sometimes even less frequently, to serve a population of 500+. He also offered little choice for variety anyway. Bryan got his hair-cut too – a trademark crew cut – but then I realised later that he would be visiting a girls' school the next day, hence the convenient detour. Bryan loved smart. He was one of the few boys in my class that kept his tie on for the most part of the day. Once, when Sylvia Owori was the 'new thing' in town, Bryan had gone by the newly opened ‘Sylvie's boutique’ and picked up a pair of classic shoes for school. That was the first time I ever heard of a shoe design called 'IKON'. Our whole class and maybe a couple more below us heard of it too then. Bryan certainly made sure of that. I could almost swear Bryan's 'IKON' became the most famous non-living member of our class. Bryan was a smart dresser and he certainly had style!
Once, for a whole year, I was paired with Bryan in class. That meant we sat together and formed our study groups together too. It was during that time that our bond as friends grew stronger and we each learnt a great deal about the other's life. One day, going back to our accommodation halls after classes, Bryan looked at me and said he was tired of having a skinny friend for a neighbour and that I had to start working out so I could add some muscle mass to my frame. 'Kabawo' (as flat as a log), is the term he'd actually used to describe what he thought my torso looked like. Well, Bryan and another friend had this private gym thing going and this was more or less like my invitation to the club. So at sweet sixteen I was introduced to the world of weight-training in an improvised local school 'private gym'. We would work out for an hour or more after classes for 4-5 days a week doing the same range of exercises everyday! When I progressed to a real gym and a professional trainer later, I learnt that we'd been doing a lot of things the wrong way but at that time, Bryan and the other friend were my personal trainers. I did whatever they did or told me to do. It was like family how we worked out; fluctuating between 48 and 50 Kgs at the time, I was the lightest and I think weakest too, of our posse trio, so I needed a 'spot' most of the times especially when I would get to the last 5 reps of my set of exercises; these were either bench presses, shoulder presses or the bicep curls -we never veered far from those three with the weights. Bryan would usually 'spot' the two of us, cheering us on, encouraging us to complete the sets. Bryan never gave up on you! Once, tired of the monotony, I had abandoned the 'gym' to go play some basketball and when I had just made team, I saw Bryan coming out to the basketball court as he pointed at me. "Man, I can't leave you here. You know where you have to be," he shouted out at me. You couldn't just say no to Bryan back then. He pulled me by the arm and walked me back to the 'gym' as he lectured me about 'collective responsibility'. Apparently, I should have let him or the other friend know first, before I wandered off like that, and then that 'gym day' would have been cancelled for all of us, allowing everyone to go for the field sports. "Besides" he said, "You have all the weekend for basketball". Bryan was caring like that. We would later exchange notes on the correct technique of weight-training and dieting when I landed a new professional personal trainer some few years down the road. I remember Bryan waking me up at 1.00am in the morning with cold water over my face and literally dragging me out of bed to go and study. We would do that for about a couple of hours at the most and then he’d pull out his stash of letters from girls and have me edit his replies. Once I had been replying a letter of my own and Bryan had asked to see it but I told him I didn’t think it was his business. He had pulled it away from me anyway and read it amidst loud guffaws that some people said we actually shared (the laughter I mean). When he was done, he told me everything about me was his business because I was his friend. That was Bryan.
And then outside of school, there were the parties and the girls. One thing I'll say about Bryan first is that I think he was one really focused lad. For all the time that I was with him and even when we went to new places after school, Bryan was usually this lad in a committed relationship. Whenever I asked, I never heard him say, "Oh, I am single now" or whatever, he was usually seeing someone and I think that saved him a lot of trouble in the long run. Bryan loved and knew how to have a good time with friends. If he wasn't hosting one, he was calling you to go with him to a party. Not being one for loud parties myself, I usually had to decline his party offers. I remember him distinctly telling me how he would be happy to stop by in the Emirate city of Duba'i where I lived at the time, if only I could get a good party thing going. Miles apart, we’d kept our friendship alive chatting everyday on messenger and it's during that time that I also introduced Bryan to blogging and then a few days after opening his own blog at: www.bbukenya.blogspot.com, he'd IM'd me and asked, "but Zack, who ever reads that stuff?" I told him in reply, "Bryan, what can I say back? It's simply a blog... whoever wants can read." Blogging seemed to lose its appeal to him so he quit but I asked him not to delete the blog as I hoped it would serve some purpose in retracing his history once he had ‘made it up there’. In retrospect, I’m glad he acquiesced to my request now because it’s perhaps the only unadulterated cached memory of Bryan that we still have online. A few months later came the social networking hi5 revolution, and then Facebook following closely on its heels. Bryan wasn't one to be left behind. You could see him active at each site.
The other side of Bryan
Now this is my obituary to someone that I think I totally knew for more than 10 years of my life, someone I also called a close friend and shared many personal experiences with and so I don't care how or what some people may think of some of the things that I'm writing here. I believe I am entitled to an opinion and so I'm simply exercising that entitlement and the right to my free expression of speech.
To some people, it may seem that Bryan was a boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth but I wouldn't say that. In fact, I think that in many ways, Bryan went through the toughest circumstances and just made his own luck. Yes, self-made Bryan Bukenya. Of all the friends I've had, it's only Bryan that I know of who had to work so hard to get his father's attention in his life. I've seen some others in a similar situation simply give up and settle with eking out a living on their own. But Bryan was different. To someone seeing him from a distance Bryan carried himself erect and might have seemed to even exude power and solidity. Bryan did his utmost best to conceal his inner struggles, passing off as the kind of person who wouldn't be easily hurt, who rode all the blows that life dealt him, but closer inspection would reveal that beneath the mask he wore was great pain, there was a boy struggling to be accepted, to be called 'beloved' or even simply, 'son'. I remember once accompanying Bryan to this building where his father worked and we were made to sit for at least 3 hours before Bryan was eventually told that his father would not see him. Just like that. I could see the tears well up in his eyes and before he shed any, I quickly made to leave because I felt that then he needed some personal space at the time and my presence there while he portrayed his weak side not only invaded his privacy but also detracted from the macho-image that he'd worked so hard to build of himself in the public domain. But Bryan didn't give up. I later learnt that a few weeks later he had gone back and once again had gotten the same result. He kept on doing it until he got that appointment... with his father. Now I have heard some people say how one couldn't tell who Bryan's father was from talking to him but I hold a different opinion. Bryan loved his father dearly and he was almost the only one person that featured consistently in most of his conversations. More than anything, Bryan longed to be recognised by his father as a beloved son. To earn his father's love, Bryan humbled himself to do every chore at his father’s beck and call. Now, I don't mean to critic a father's style of bringing up his child and I think Bryan's humility to his father was quite exemplary but I think that at some point, it was a little too harsh for him. During his university years, Bryan would later became his father's closest confidant. What saddens me most is the fact that Bryan had only just started to enjoy this close relationship when his life was taken from him. And as he lay deprived of life in a green metallic casket, most of what he had been longing for the most part of his 26 years... love, public show of affection, suddenly came in plenty! I know that I hurt as a friend but I just cannot imagine the pain and sorrow of losing both a son and a friend that 'GB' (as Bryan referred to his father) and Bryan's mother must be in at this time. My heart goes out to them.
Fare thee well my good friend
The first time that I heard Bryan was gone, it all seemed so surreal. It's only now that typing out this obituary I am suddenly realising that there's not gonna be another Bryan on the other end of the line anymore. There's no more 'How are you, Boss?' or 'Chief, watagwan?' or 'Obulamu bugamba ki, dirham ne dollar ziriwa?' from him. No more of that!!! And it’s painful. Utterly painful. The pain starts as a thick lump in my throat as I wonder in amazement at why he had to be taken away from us so early. The pain gradually finds its way to my eyes, welling up tears that I didn't know I could still shed. The tears cloud my vision and then I have to take off my glasses and clear my eyes with the back of my hand to finish this. Only God knows if I will be able to read it again while holding myself together because it's in loving memory of someone I won't be seeing again. Oh, rest in peace Bryan. I miss you. We all miss you. Bryan Bukenya. 1983 - 2009. In loving memory.


























