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UGANDA: Joy of reading and writing is taught at home – @RugyendoQuotes @UG_Edge @LokomoPeter @NadaAndersen

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This is a true story.

Last year when Natasha was in Grade 12 (S6 equivalent) at Moncton High School, one of her teachers assigned the kids a project.

In 2 pages (500 words), write about Literacy and who taught you how to read and write.

Natasha pulls into the driveway driving a bit fast and I am thinking “oh my God, she had another bad day at school?”

Hops into the house and announces how she is gonna write the best 500 words about Literacy.

When she was done, she gave me her essay to proof and edit it.

WHY LITERACY? “Because you do not want to go through life not knowing how to write properly. That would totally suck”.


My older sister Rebecca used to read to me daily. She taught me how to write. She used to get me to write short stories. She would read them and correct them. My sister taught me how to read and write even before I went to Shediac Cape School (it is our local English Primary / Elementary school).

When I read what Natasha had written, it took me back to my young days.

I went to a village Primary School in Bududa District in Uganda. It was called Nanyere Primary School (now known as Bududa Primary School).

One day, after a very bad day, I ran straight home. I was crying like only I can cry. You do not know how easily I can cry when hurt.

I was huffing and puffing and in between tears, I was telling my sister what had happened at school that day.

I speak about 250 words per minute. I type about 125 words per minute. I hand write about 20 words per minute.

Now this woman (Bad Mommie) is looking at me not moved by my cry crying and says “Here is a pencil and paper, write down what happened”.  I stare at her with tears rolling down my face “but I want to tell you. I want to talk to you. It was a bad day”.

My sister looks at me “Leah, write it down. If it is important, write it down. If it hurts so bad that you cry, write it down. WRITE”.

I sat down and started to write while crying like the Mutuwa that I am. I wrote my heart out.

<<Yaya, you see, today, Makuma lifted up my dress during PE and all the boys came to see if I was wearing knickers. I complained to Mrs. Masette but she told me to beat them in academics instead of cry crying”. Then in the class, Musa pinched me for not giving him my answers. Then when we were coming home, at the river, we went to swim and the boys drowned me. But Papa Kutosi came and saved me and beat the hell out of those boys. Now I am hungry and angry.>>

My older sister taught me how to read and write way before I went to Primary 1 (Grade 1). Not only did she insist that I write daily about what had transpired at school, but she used to read to me the Bible every chance we would get. And she would do this by the Tadoba. I would go to bed saying a Prayer “I hope my sister lives forever”. Amen. And I do hope she will live for a very long time.

The joy of reading and writing is the best gift you can give any child.

Thank you Natasha for reminding me of my childhood. Thank you Rebecca for being the bestest older sister in the world. Thank you Bad Mommie for giving me the gift of DRAMA such that now I can replay all the things you did to me when I was very young. You were not much older either but you are the best sister anyone in the world can ever hope to have. I got you though. The rest is history.

*** Passionate about education: reading and writing. READ TO YOUR KIDS. ONE DAY THEY WILL READ TO YOU.


Papa Kutosi was bad news. Every time I would cry even tiny tiny, he would say “Leah, who is making you cry?’ I would point out the bully. Papa Kutosi would pound that kid onto the ground then say “okay, now tell me your side of the story”.  He is a legend on our village actually. He never took no bull and if he found a boy trying to bully a girl, that boy was like so totally finished it was not even a joke. I miss you my dear Pap Kutosi.

—— AUTO – GENERATED; Published (Halifax Canada Time AST) on: February 09, 2020 at 05:57PM

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