There are two languages I wish I could speak — Lumaasaba and Rutooro.
My father was a Mumasaaba, but I never learned Lumaasaba. My mother was a Muganda. On my mother’s side, my late great-grandmother was a Mutoorokati.
Unfortunately, I never got the chance to grow up with her and learn Rutooro from her. I only saw her three times in my entire lifetime.
Sometimes I wonder how different things would have been if I had spent more time with her.
I thought about this while watching the burial of the late King Oyo Nyimba Kabamba Iguru Rukidi IV. As I watched the funeral speeches, I kept hoping that Princess Ruth Komuntale would at some point speak Rutooro.
I wanted to hear her speak it.
Perhaps because, for me, Rutooro is more than just a language. It is a connection to someone in my family whom I never really got the chance to know.
It also made me think about how many of us grow up knowing where our families come from, but without being able to speak the languages connected to those roots.
I can speak Luganda, but I cannot speak Lumaasaba or Rutooro.
And maybe it is not too late to change that.
Perhaps I can start learning both.
After all, sometimes finding your way back to your roots begins with simply learning the language.
