Father’s day found me nostalgic. I am privileged to have a father that had been there for me from the day I arrived. He saw me through the darkest times and spoke light into my life. It wasn’t always easy. He likes to use the adage, “tough minded and tender hearted” to describe his M.O. in disciplining and encouraging me to become all I could be. He found a place for me in what would soon be the crucible for my formative years.
His certain charge and his sure gaze that remarkable day in March of 1999 set me off for an adventure I never would have imagined in a million years.

Those formative years in Budo were riddled with heightened insecurities, amplified fears, and an uncomfortable awareness of my physiological change. Everything seemed out of balance. You see I was like sheep among wolves sent to be a wolf somehow. I was among the best and the brightest minds and bodies of the time. Budo took the cream and had charitable room for the likes of us that slipped in by providence alone.
At that time , everybody was great at something. They were all superior and their distinctions somehow enhanced the insecurities and flaws we couldn’t hide.

You had those great with the girls( the social lites), you had those great with sports (the all rounders) and you had those great with books(those with a future) at the top of the budonian food chain. You then had the regular folk( the average students), the geeks, the insignificant and the low-lifes as the bottom feeders. Then you had me and my kin. Those that had no place to fit in and found consolation in Jesus our sympathiser.
I remember vividly coming into the school and taking a good look at an HSC students with awe and wonder . How so collected they were! So sure of themselves. So aware of their place in the world . So contented with their contribution to society as I knew it then. I wondered if I’d ever be like that. If I’d ever arrive.
In those moments ,I recalled my father’s charge and gaze… I remember the indelible sentiment they left me with.
I came to Budo at the unfortunate tail end, I believe, of an error. One that should have never gone. To be a Budonian was more than a prestigious title or an affiliation with braggadocios lore. It was more than the red budge or the heritage of glories past. To be a budonian was an inculcation of an idea far beyond reach in the moment. It was both an inspiration and a challenge. A tall order to be more than the total sum of one’s faculties.
Countless times, assembly after another, Mr Busuulwa the head teacher then emphasised a decorum and propriety that a budonian embodied. My first Founder’s day was a breath taking display of what seemed like accomplished world changers. The emphasis the Headmaster proclaimed was demystified right before my eyes. The old budonians came in the hundreds and each looking like they had conquers their field of expertise and were on top of the world. And they were. At least on top of my world. I wanted that..
Then my father’s charge and gaze rippled on in this moment too. Not to burst my bubble but remind me of things far beyond the glam I beheld.
A one Dr Chrystosom Muyingo, the state minister for higher education (2013) in his article “Our youth need vocational skills, not misplaced pomp” while defending both his position and budonians on Education brought to light the image of a true Budonian. He said
“So, when you see Budonians walking with their heads high, it’s not because they are snobbish or arrogant; it is a combination of the attributes.. and of course the thrust inspired by the school vision, “To be the hub of globally enlightened and dignified men and women, rooted in Christian values.” https://www.observer.ug/component/content/article?id=24661:-our-youth-need-vocational-skills-not-misplaced-pomp-
A True Budonian, while the vision faded with time, was one with integrity of Character, who carried themselves with dignity and revelled in human decency. This was the image sold to us. To be a Budonian was far beyond political leanings, religious inclination or gender specifications. One was just that .A Budonian. It was a culture. A way of life steeped in years of a deeply spiritual and religious heritage. The discipline, the devotion, and the dedication was demanded of them all for what they were privileged to have.
Six pain staking years of feeling like a failure, a looser and a no body were nearing an end and so did the vision of the Budonian . I purposed to be the best version of who I could be so I latched on to the only hope I ever had because of the father’s charge and gaze. The pressure to remain afloat amid the tempestuous winds of change that had come along in my time made me thrust my hope on the only being I knew would carry me through. GOD.
You see, something changed.
I do not think Budo as an institute changed. It couldn’t. With its roots deeply grounded in the long standing tradition of Church founded schools , its structures rigid as steel and its PTA running the show, the institute didn’t change much. And maybe that is the challenge. Everything else changed.
I posit that long before the internet and technology replaced human connection in homes, there was an expectation of a child that came to Budo. The system simply elevated that which was instilled from childhood and bred in the cradle. From royalty to civil savant, every child was raised to look beyond themselves and their ambitions. They were tasked to not make not just a mark in history but a difference there in. They were taught to treat people with dignity and decency regardless of class or gender. At least those that went to Budo in those days( I stand to be corrected).

When technology replaced human connection and performance superseded character (first in the homes and then in every meaning making institution), integrity was lost, dignity was violated, and decency contravened.
Virulent and toxic world views, life styles and life choices promoted violent and self-centered expressions of a version of Budoninas we have seen in the last two decades that is now being exposed. Damaged individuals from broken homes , with heightened insecurities, daddy issues and grotesque masks of pride, indifference and callousness to hide their wounded hearts.
In my hope to make a difference, I still believe as I did then, in the Budonian that seems like a myth amid the myriad of social media “she-budonian” outcries.
I believe they can still be redeemed and restored to the glory that once was. A reflection and image bearer of the maker of greatness beyond academic performance, social status and physical appearance.

I challenge the powers that be to step into the light and begin the healing . Take responsibility and change the status quo.

I challenge the young men riddled with adolescent burdens to find faith. Thrust your hope on the giver of rest. CHRIST.  That he may change you from within.
My father’s charge and gaze continue to inspire me to be more than just a statistic. They point me ,a Budonian, back to integrity , dignity and decency.
I pray I inspire those that come after me to look to the same.