The death of Professor Okello Oculi in Abuja, Nigeria on Saturday July 26, caused a dark chill that blistered the souls of those who knew him and those who were nourished by his prolific writing and his outstanding scholarship. 

Dr. Samm Bbuye-Musoke, my friend who shared time and personal friendship with Okello Oculi when both served as faculty at Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, Nigeria from 1983 to 1987, eased my sadness by sharing beautiful memories of this intellectual giant.  

Bbuye-Musoke, our friend Dr. George Bhima, and me gathered for a video cyber-conversation on August 1 to reminisce about Okello Oculi. It was our small but profound way of honouring this bright Ugandan brother that our country surrendered to Nigeria where he taught, excelled, married, parented, lived, and died after 48 years of residence. 

Born in Abakuli Village, Dokolo County, Lango District of the British Uganda Protectorate on January 1, 1942, Okello Oculi became a national figure and an intellectual influencer at a very young age. Within a year of graduating from Makerere University College in 1967, Okello Oculi completed and published, Prostitute, a novel, and Orphan, a book-long poem, that immediately elevated him to the select group of African writers whose work became required reading for young bibliophiles of our generation. 

Okello Oculi, who returned to teach political science at Makerere in 1969 after reading for his Master of Arts degree in the United Kingdom, became a voice among the young intellectuals at Makerere whose discourses were strong magnets that attracted many of us to dream of careers as political scientists, lawyers and writers. 

Makerere, and Uganda in general, appeared to be accelerating towards a rich and glorious destiny shaped by its illustrious sons and daughters whose elevation in society was, and would be, earned through a natural meritocracy. That had been the dream of the founders and builders of our country, among them Sir Andrew Cohen, the Governor that had believed in educated Ugandans’ capacity to exploit their country’s infinite possibilities.   

Then 1971 happened. Maj. Gen. Idi Amin Dada overthrew the civilian government. Darkness descended upon the land. Many, including the finest brains, were killed. A list of the victims would fill volumes. A small sample suffices to illustrate the depth and breadth of the tragedy that was destined to set the pace of brutality and wastage of national talent that became the trademark of successive regimes. 

Among those murdered in the early years of the military regime were George W. Ebine, a Mulago Hospital gynaecologist; Professor Vincent Pim Emiru, an ophthalmologist at Makerere Medical School; Michael Hamilton Kawalya-Kaggwa, the 43-year-old President of the Industrial Court and Registrar of the High Court; William Wilberforce Kalema, the 45-year-old husband of Rhoda Nakibuka Nsibirwa Kalema, who had had a distinguished career as an educator, legislator, and cabinet minister;  Benedicto Mugumba Kiwanuka, our 50-year-old chief justice and Uganda’s first prime minister; Frank Kalimuzo, the 47-year-old first vice-chancellor of Makerere University, Kampala; and John Kakonge, a 39-year-old former cabinet minister, and first secretary general of the Uganda People’s Congress, who was one of the finest orators that had enjoyed reverence among the politically conscious young Ugandans.

Okello Oculi narrowly escaped death. Arrested by the military, he was subsequently released, then spirited out of Uganda, to begin a journey with no return, an exile from his motherland, whose loss Uganda is yet to comprehend. 

As Samm, George and I reflected on how Uganda had lost Okello Oculi, and many people like him, even after the end of the Amin regime, I began to jot down notes with a view to telling his story to his fellow countrymen, most of whom I was certain had not heard of him. Those who had heard of him had probably forgotten him, an understandable fate after more than half a century of absence from his homeland. 

I planned to tell Okello Oculi’s story to generations not yet born, to give them the basics of the puzzling circumstance of a brilliant intellectual that was let go by his country, and never wooed back, as though Uganda had a surplus of gifted people like him. 

Okello Oculi was eulogized and honoured by newspapers and organizations in Nigeria, but there was not a single mention of his death in any of the East African papers. There was a particularly depressing silence in the Ugandan news media, likely a reflection of lack of awareness of this great man. 

As I sat down to write about Okello Oculi, I received the devastating and paralyzing news that Rhoda Nakibuka Kalema, my revered friend, one of the finest among the finest people I have known, had just died at the Nairobi Hospital in the wee hours of Sunday August 3. Her death at 96 cast an oppressive chill and ripped something out of me that paralyzed my writing and mental clarity.  

My attempts to write what I feel about this great woman of superb intellect and courage have been repeatedly overshadowed all day by memories of her husband William Wilberforce Kalema who perished in that darkness that engulfed our land less that ten years after our flag independence. Some unknown people kidnapped Mr. Kalema at about 6:30 pm on January 20, 1972, turning his 42-year-old wife into a young widow, and their young children into orphans. 

That horrifying event would have destroyed many women and their children. Rhoda Kalema triumphed and thrived by God’s grace. Whereas she and her children went through unimaginable hardship and more suffering, including the premature deaths of her oldest daughter and two sons, theirs is a testimony of courage and survival against great odds.

Mrs. Kalema told her story in “My Life is But a Weaving,” an excellent autobiography that should be required reading for all who care to know our country’s history and those who seek inspiration on their own journeys. Happily, she completed a biography of her husband a few months ago, a remarkable achievement that capped a long life of intellectual pursuit, public service, and outstanding motherhood. 

She honoured me with the privileged of reading the manuscript of her husband’s biography. Titled “It’s the Life in Our Years,” it is a masterful account of the life of a man she loved, knew and adored during their twenty-two years of friendship and marriage. It is her gift to us and to posterity, one which, together with her autobiography, should hopefully keep the names of that wonderful couple alive in the annals of our country.

The Lord willing, I will share my personal reflections about Rhoda Kalema, and the remarkable story of Okello Oculi once some rays of light have shone through the darkness in which I find myself now. I grieve with Debrah Ogazuma, Okello Oculi’s widow, and their children. I grieve with William Samson Kalema, Veronica Nakibule Kalema, and Gladys Kalema-Zikusoka, the Nsibirwas and their extended family. 

Uganda has lost two of its remarkable children. Nigeria grieves the loss of its distinguished adopted son. Africa is poorer without them. 

© Muniini K. Mulera