Lessons from Maama Rebecca, Maama Agatha, my Jaajja, and the Oracle in Kifuuta
I didn’t learn these in class. No teacher wrote them on a blackboard, and you won’t find them in a textbook.
I got them from two mothers who only finished high school certificates, a grandmother who loved secrets, and a clan oracle in Kifuuta, Kyotera Buddu, who speaks like he already read your future.
Sit down. This one’s got laughter, truth, and lessons that’ll save you years of pain.
1. Your Name Is Not Noise – It’s a Blueprint
None of us got to choose our first name.
You didn’t pop out of the womb and say, “Hi, I’d like ‘Champion’ please, with extra confidence.”
I ended up with a blessing pack, whether I liked it or not.
Maama Rebecca named me (Immanuel- because I showed up on Christmas, right at lunchtime. When I asked why, she laughed and said, “Immanuel means God is with us. If God is with you, who can be against you?”
Maama had jokes and theology in one sentence. Respect.
Maama Agatha Nanungi called me - -Joseph.“Your father is Joseph,” she said. “Joseph means a just man_. Be righteous, even when nobody’s watching.”
Maama Agatha was a nurse from Nsambya. She didn’t raise boys who cut corners.
Senga Julian, may her soul rest well, named me Benedicto-after my uncle Benedicto Kasekende. “Benedicto means - someone with luck_,” she said. “And that boy was a great teacher. May some of that stick to you.”
Later, when I sat with the chief oracle in Kifuuta, he looked at me and said: “The names you give children are not decoration. They are directions. A bad omen name is like giving your child a flat tire before the journey starts.”
So before you name a child because it sounds nice on TikTok, ask: What does it mean? What does it command?
Your name predicts the story people will tell about you before you even open your mouth. Give them a good story to start with.
And with _God with me, _a just man, and _luck in the mix… how could I not try to shine? That’s unfair advantage right there.
2. Your Clan Names Are Not for Vibes – They’re for Battle
When I got older, I went to my Jaajja through Taata and said, “What about my Luganda names?”
Jaajja smiled like someone who’d been holding secrets for 30 years. She took me to the chief oracle in Kifuuta. That man didn’t just give meanings. He dropped prophecy with a side of laughter.
Muguluma– A strong, assertive sound that moves unnoticed.
Translation: You’re the type who walks into a room quietly, but when you speak, people stop chewing.
The oracle laughed: “Muguluma doesn’t shout. But when Muguluma speaks, even the walls listen.”
Quiet doesn’t mean weak. Thunder starts as a whisper.
Mbazzi – An axe that never fails to put down a whole forest. This isn’t a name. It’s a warning.
“Mbazzi doesn’t cut grass. Mbazzi cuts destiny,” the oracle said.
When you set your mind to something, don’t play small. Cut the whole problem down.
Sometimes you need to axe out procrastination, bad friends, and excuses. No mercy.
Misagga – Someone who doesn’t play in jokes. This one hit me because I love cracking jokes.
“Misagga is serious when it matters,” the oracle said. “Life will joke with you, but you don’t joke back with your future.”
Laugh all you want. But know when to put the jokes down and handle business.
Put it together and you get: Muguluma Mbazzi Misagga – A quiet force, an unstoppable axe, who doesn’t play when it’s serious.
If that’s not a destiny statement, I don’t know what is.
The oracle’s final line stuck: “Your names follow you. Speak them right, live them right, and they will carry you.”
3. Your First Salary Is Not For Bottles – It’s For Blessing
Maama Rebecca studied stenography in Nairobi.
Maama Agatha studied nursing at Nsambya.
Two different careers, one identical rule:
“When we got our first salary, 75% went straight to our parents.”
They said it like it was obvious. Like breathing. They called it “the beginning of luck.”
Nowadays? Kid gets a first salary and the first move is to book a table, stand on crates, and buy rounds of lager and tequila like they own the brewery.
Bro, that’s not celebrating. That’s laying your foundation on sand.
When you honor the people who raised you first, doors open.
Not magic. Gratitude keeps you humble, and humble people get taught, trusted, and promoted.
Try it. Send something home before you send anything to the bar. Watch how your life stops feeling stuck.
And if your first salary disappears into alcohol, don’t be surprised when your future disappears too. The bar will always be open. Your parents won’t be.
4. Admire Yourself. Humps Slow You Down, But They Don’t Stop You
Both Maamas said the same thing: “Admire yourself. Wish yourself the best. Humps slow you down, but they don’t stop you.”
We wait for people to clap for us before we feel good.
Meanwhile life is throwing potholes, traffic, and random drama.
Learn to say: “I’m not there yet, but I’m not where I was.”
That’s not arrogance. That’s fuel.
Laugh at the humps.
If the road was smooth, everyone would be ahead of you. Humps are proof you’re moving.
The Fire I’m Passing You
Knowledge kept locked is like fire under a basket. It looks safe, but it’s useless until you let it out.
Maama Rebecca, Maama Agatha, my Jaajja, and the oracle in Kifuuta didn’t give me degrees.
They gave me direction.
Now I’m passing it to you because maybe your elders never sat you down like this.
Your homework tonight:
- Find out what your name means. All of them. English, Luganda, clan name, the whole package. If it’s a bad omen, start writing a new story with it.
- Bless your parents first when money comes.Luck follows gratitude.
- Laugh at the humps.They mean you’re moving.
And if your name is heavy like mine, don’t complain.
Be grateful.
God with you, just, lucky, quiet force, unstoppable axe, no jokes when it matters… Bro, with that combination, how can you fail?
Now go on. Shine.
Your names are expecting it.
What do your clan names mean? If you don’t know, call your Jaajja today. You might be carrying power you’ve never used.