My parents were born in Kigezi, SW Uganda, then newly British, immediately across the border from Rwanda, a Belgian colony. Unlike central Uganda, which had been under the growing influence of Britain since 1862 with the discovery of the source of the Nile by John Hanning Speke, SW Uganda had remained a No-Man’s-Land. In 1911, Britain, Belgium and Germany agreed to change that and incorporate it in their colonies. The years later, two British Cambridge-educated medical missionaries arrived in Kigezi en route to Rwanda. On being denied work permits, the doctors were compelled to set up temporary camps in Kigezi. They did not know then that the camps would change from tents to houses and become a permanent base for the “Ruanda Inland Mission,” now a misnomer under the circumstances.

In Kigezi, the British men built a church, a hospital and schools for boys and girls. In their first few weeks in Kigezi, they met my maternal grandfather, who was fortunate to receive instruction in reading and, later, to join their missionary work. On a remote hill, my grandfather built a missionary station. He did not know then that the primary school he built would teach a future son-in-law. Meanwhile, his daughter gained her own education and distinguished herself academically, coming first in a national exam. Her performance, therefore, confounded the intransigence of male-dominated African and British systems. In 1930, the British men finally obtained work permits for Rwanda and, there, they replicated their work in Kigezi with my grandfather serving as Headman for their mission.

In this employment my grandfather received an informal but thorough education and a new career that he forged from his new way of thinking. Christianity was, for him, the only way out of the mire of witchcraft and superstition. As he travelled the length and breadth of Kigezi and Rwanda, he urged his brothers and sister to forsake the old traditions and embrace the new faith. There was no turning back for him. When my parents’ generation arrived on the scene, the new Christian faith had already stamped out the old customs and beliefs and with many witchdoctors converted into Christians. For many of those who were intransigent and did not believe in the new faith, the old practices had been demystified.

It was in this new environment that my parents’ generation was born and educated. Whether the young men and women of that generation were to become Christians or not, they absorbed ethical conduct and responsibility so that by the time Uganda became independent the country had one of the most trusted Civil Services in the British Commonwealth. The progress ushered in during that generation, however, was not adequate protection against alcoholism for my father. This, too, my parents turned into an opportunity after he stopped drinking.