Photo: Jessica Kembabazi Babihuga Nkuuhe (May 25, 1951-April 27, 2025)
© Muniini K. Mulera
Another childhood friend buried last week. She died on Sunday April 27th, a month shy of turning 74. Her name is Jessica Kembabazi wa Babihuga muka Nkuuhe. I see her smile, a most energetic gait, and a vivacious persona. I hear her sing, her voice undecided between tenor and bass, with a mischievous imitation of the great East African Christian Revival Movement singers of yore.
Yes, her legendary voice with which, my wife tells me, Jessica mesmerized audiences at Gayaza High School, whether as Shylock in William Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice, or Okwonko in Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart; whether as a member of the Gayaza Singers or a public speaker.
I hear Jessica’s story of her latest travel to a distant land, peppered with tales of misplaced possessions, malfunctioning something, and missed flights because she faithfully kept African time. Hope Bagyendera Chigudu tells the story that when Jessica lived in Zimbabwe, her husband flew ahead of her to Uganda. Jessica missed her scheduled flight. She booked a second flight. Missed that one too. Her husband expressed his displeasure, to which she responded: “Is the world coming to an end just because I have missed my flight twice?” Case closed.
After a visit with the family of Dr. James Kikira Mugisha in Vancouver, Canada, the latter drove the Nkuuhes to the airport for the next leg of their holiday. “Your flight left twenty-four hours ago,” the check-in counter staff informed them. The world did not come to an end.
They eventually flew to Toronto to visit us. Soon it was time to return to Zimbabwe. Departure time was 8:00 p.m. Even Jessica thought it a bit much when her husband returned home from a shopping outing at 6 p.m. When we got to the airport, we learnt that their flight had departed on time, at 6:00 pm. The Nkuuhes checked their tickets and confirmed that they had misread their departure time.
In the decades that followed, Jessica’s missed flights, missing luggage, overweight carry-on luggage, and other mishaps never fazed her enthusiasm for travel. When Jessica lost her carry-on luggage at Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam, Holland, she informed us that the missing bag had two combs, two mirrors, two perfumes, two toothbrushes, two pens, two of everything, with one exception. She had three books in that bag. Why? “I take two books in case I get bored with the first,” Jessica explained. “I carry the third book in case I get bored with the second.” She was not kidding.
So, Jessica has taken with her lots of unwritten stories. For her, life was not something to live in half measure. That is how I found her when we first met in 1965. Jessica was at Kabale Girl’s School, the junior secondary division of Hornby High School. I was next door at Kigezi High School Junior. It was a time when girls did not engage in street debates with boys, but Jessica made her voice heard with confidence and clarity.
After Gayaza High School, Jessica joined Makerere University to read English literature, history and education. We reconnected in the Makerere University Christian Union in 1975, where she had already established herself as a leader. She was a free person, pushing against a patriarchal cultural prison that was often dressed in misunderstood scriptures. Her sense of humour remained intact, liberally dispensed with her trademark smile.
As she looked forward to getting married, Jessica helpfully advised her father not to think about charging bride price for her. He did not. Jessica married Johnson Nkuuhe in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada in 1979.
When I relocated to Canada in 1981, it was at their home in Saskatoon that I first stayed. Of course there was a hitch. Notwithstanding my clear letters stating my exact date and time of arrival, Jessica and Johnson decided that I was arriving the day after my planned arrival. With no response to my phone calls from the airport, I spent the night at a hotel. When I called the next morning, Jessica was genuinely surprised that I had arrived the day before, until she checked my letters and laughed uncontrollably.
She and her husband accorded me great hospitality that fast-tracked my acclimatization to this vast and culturally different country. Of course, she insisted that they escort me to my new home in Calgary, Alberta, “a mere 610 km” away. Jessica gave me a sleeping bag, which served as my first bed for two months in this country.
We were at her home in Saskatoon when she delivered her first child in May1982, a lovely daughter that she named Koko. We did not know that beautiful Koko would live for only five years. She died in a car accident in Botswana in December 1987. She is buried in Harare, Zimbabwe, but her memory is alive in our hearts. Jessica, her husband and her son Tendo survived the accident. She also survived the unimaginable emotional trauma of losing our beloved Koko.
The Lord blessed Jessica with three more children -Tendo, Agaba, and Naamara - and a stepson that had been born to her husband before they met. Jessica combined motherhood with work outside her home. Her passion was gender and women’s human rights, and election observation in democratizing countries. She monitored elections in Liberia, Senegal, Sierra Leone, and Solomon Islands. She worked with UN women in Sierra Leone, Sudan, South Sudan, and Malawi. She worked as Programme Coordinator for Compassion International, Kampala; Exchange Programme Coordinator, Isis-WICCE, Kampala; Deputy Director, Femmes Africa Solidarité, Dakar, Senegal; and Executive Director, Urgent Action Fund, Nairobi, Kenya.
Her faults and weaknesses affirmed her humanity. They were part of our complete friendship. I savour the memories, but I cannot live them again. Yesterday is gone, and we cannot reclaim it. Indeed, it does not exist. Illness rendered her completely silent for five years, a reminder that the future is not guaranteed.
All we have is the present, a fleeting moment in which we must find joy as we serve humanity. In which we must love and laugh, serve and sing, give and guide, protect and provide. Above all, we must praise and pray to the Lord who has granted us our very brief sojourn on this pale blue dot we call Earth. This infinitesimal speck in God’s magnificent Universe that is our home for a tiny moment.
Jessica Kembabazi wa Babihuga has had good innings in her own fleeting moment. We are left with memories of this vibrant, life-loving sister who gave us tons of laughter in our half-century of friendship.
© Muniini K. Mulera