Priest’s legacy lives on 127 years later

Nansio. She had only come over to attend her regular choir practice sessions, at the St Maria Tumainijema Catholic Church, in Kagunguli, Ukerewe Island.

She dressed simply - a light blue gown checked with leafy designs, and a white kanga with blue leaves dotted all over it, wrapped around her from the waist, downwards. A head scarf was tightly knotted around her head, to complete a typical female African fashion look.

And it was while here at the practice session, that she picked word of a Ugandan team that was doing rounds in search of descendants of Matia Mulumba.

By then, we had been going around in circles in the village, for a little over an hour. Having run into stonewalls and with hardly a thing to show for it; we were just about to call off that leg of the journey as another frustrating cold dead end.

Then she rose up to her feet, stood and told her choir master, who had broken the news to her, that her mother may know a thing or two about what we were seeking. The choir leader led her over to us, as we prepared to leave.

And just like that we finally landed on the first direct descendant from the line of St Matia Mulumba, the martyr.

54-year-old Restituta Gregory, a calm woman who chose to sift through her words before she spoke, looked at us for quite some time before uttering a word.

“My mother knows something about him,” she said. “What would you want with them?” she added after we read names of Matia Mulumba’s children, wondering whether she recognised any. It was clear from the onset that Ms Gregory was exercising caution in her discourse with us. She knew more than she was telling, and for a while, you sensed that she was not sure whether she should trust us.

A Tanzanian journalist, Melard Karoza, who was part of the team and in charge of translation decided to activate our cnversation with Ms Gregory by telling jokes and little sweet nothings to tease her up.

Slowly, her questioning gaze started giving way to smiles and short bursts of laughter. She lightened up, probably realising that we were not after any mischief after all.

She told us about herself, that she had no husband but had six children, two sons and four daughters. She did not explain further. She proceeded to lead us to her mother who she said knew all about Matia Mulumba. And it was here that it all came together like a jigsaw.

Devita Bazalaki Stephano, aged 89 years old, sat in the yard behind her house on a brown papyrus mat.

Signs of old age wore down on her like a mask. She shivered as she tried to move her muscles up to speak even when there was no breeze from the lake and the afternoon tropical sun was in full force.

She tried to show her best smile, and yes, her eyes welled as she beamed with joy on learning that Ugandans had come all the way to Tanzania to look for her. She is one of a few Matia Mulumba’s descendants that have gone on to carry a Ugandan name, Bazalaki.

And her grandmother, Julia Namukadde, the only known surviving child of Matia Mulumba had taught her a few Luganda words. In her efforts to greet us, therefore, a webale nyo here, a nsanyuse nyo there and a ssebo.

The conversation was kept short because she could not speak much. She directed us to her younger brother, Venasio John Ruhutta, who she said had documented the entire history of the Matia Mulumba family.

She, however, summoned enough strength to tell us how she descended from the saint. “Julia (Namukadde) gave birth to my father, John Museso Malima,” she said. She spoke of Julia with fondness. “She took very good care of me since I was a child. She died after I had got one child,” Ms Stephano said of Julia.

“She was very firm as a parent, but not very harsh. She used to tell us to be disciplined and advised her grandchildren to behave well. If you did something wrong, she would ask, “Why don’t you behave well?”

Ms Stephano gave birth to 12 children, two of who have since died.

When it was time to say goodbye a few children were dispatched off into the gardens to get presents for the visitors. Yes, in this home we were not treated as prying vultures as journalists are known to be, but as visitors.

Ukerewe could as well be the cradle of all things orange and tangerine. And from the family’s gardens they gave us a bag of oranges to their hospitality that seemed to say, please, do come back again. We, however, did not receive this same level of hospitality at the home of Venansio John Ruhuta, Ms Stephano’s young brother.

He, the knowledgeable source of the history of the Matia Mulumba family, treated our visit with suspicion. “Who directed you here?” he asked as he began a long line of inquiry, which simply seemed to say that we were not trustworthy enough to be given any information.

He mistrusted our intentions. “What you are doing has no spiritual value,” he said. “I will only talk to the priest who directed you here because he is doing God’s work; you are only interested in printing and making money,” he added. He barred us from taking any photos.

Mr Ruhuta is a 79-year-old man who runs a guesthouse, just outside Nansio Port, the main gateway to Ukerewe Island. He is a dark, stocky man, about 5ft 8’, with grey hair neatly combed backwards. His house speaks of a possession belonging to a staunch believer in his faith. Portraits of the Virgin Mary are every where in the living room.

Images of yester-year popes also make the line up on the wall of fame. On the far right hand corner of the living room, stood a small plastic Christmas tree - about three feet tall – with white tissue decorations still running all over it in mid-May.

These features, given such prominence in his house, showed a man who placed his faith on a very high level in his life, or at least, the connection that his faith has with his family.

He said he was a polygamist, with more children than he could remember. He said two of his sons were working as Brothers in Mwanza and two of his daughters were nuns also working at a Convent in Mwanza.

He refused to provide their contact details. Mr Ruhutta’s obstinacy held on to the very end. As we walked out his door, he offered to carry one of our bags for us, probably as is the custom.

He wished us a good journey back and then bid us farewell. It showed that he did not really have bad intentions by refusing to be interviewed and that he had probably just done so as a matter of principle.

If his descendants had forsaken his faith for the world, not only would it have saddened Matia Mulumba, but it would also have made it nearly impossible for us to find the family.

But they have not. They may not all be nuns and priests overseeing flocks in parishes, but their connection with the Church is alive and well.

And although we could not have an interview with John Ruhutta, it enabled us to to find that Matia Mulumba’s faith is very much still alive in his great grandchildren, 127 years after he died.