August 11, 2016

30 days ago my maternal grandmother, Abitimo Rebecca Odongkara, left this physical world. The literal definition of a matriarch, even though she reached her 8th decade of life and didn’t hesitate to tell you about her aches and pains, Mama somehow seemed immortal. We knew the day would come when she would leave us, but we were so utterly unprepared for it. I’ve been lucky enough to experience only a few very difficult family losses in life. But this one is quite unique in its painfulness. I think the mistake my grandmother made was first of all being too loving. She just loved you in a way that made you think she would never leave. She loved you like no one’s business. The second mistake she made was being far too independent. All of us, especially her children took for granted Mama’s strength, dependability, and the fact that she rarely asked for help, even when she needed it. Instead of sitting at home getting frail or depending on her family like a normal elderly person, Mama’s family depended on her. And she preferred being out on her farm, taking bumpy road trips to Kitgum or jet setting to Nairobi. Most of all, she preferred helping others.

I have learned a great deal about my grandmother just from her burial, which took place only two weeks ago. I already knew she was great, but the genesis of her greatness is what is fascinating me now. And I got to thinking: are you born with greatness or can it be cultivated? And can you pass it on? Looking at her life, I’ve concluded that greatness can definitely be cultivated, and it is certainly not genetic. While it’s true that Mama showed signs of being exceptional from an early age (getting a scholarship to a top high school, being a self-aware and confident woman when she wasn’t supposed to be), it struck me recently that she just decided (probably unconsciously actually) to start doing things. And she kept doing things. And before she knew it, she was doing amazing things that changed the lives of those around her.

A Recipe for Greatness

Looking at her life, I have determine a basic recipe for greatness: 1 part talent-whether that’s intellectual, artistic or some other type of natural ability, 2 parts adversity and 3 parts drive/motivation/will, whatever you want to call it. When I break down what caused my granny to pursue greatness, the key ingredients appear to be adversity and drive. We all know the world has talented people who never come close to greatness. Why? There are many reasons, but a lack of exposure to adversity or lacking motivation to go beyond raw talent are certainly top reasons. Perhaps if granny didn’t have to flee for her life, perhaps if she didn’t find her home torn apart by war, she may have lived a far more quiet life than she did. Something tells me she would have still made an impact, but the adversity she faced (from beating tuberculosis at 15, to routinely riding more than 100 miles on the back of a bicycle driven by a surly older brother just to go to school, to not knowing if her husband was dead or alive during the political turmoil of the 1970’s) certainly helped drive her to something bigger than herself.

A People Genius

I don’t know why I was so slow to realize this, because Mama was well known and well-respected, but it has just dawned on me that the woman was a master at human relationships. She honestly could have taught a course at any business school or at within any humanities department. She had a way of making each and every person she came into contact with feel like they had a special relationship with her that no one else had. She knew how to engage people and draw them in. She knew how to motivate and inspire people. Most of all, she knew how to maximize people’s strengths and overcome their limitations, which is something she was trying to teach me but I have been slow to learn. She had the patience and wisdom of a dinosaur that somehow survived to present day. She knew that to get along with people, you have to focus on what they can do, and find other people to do what they cannot do, rather than harping on people’s flaws. I always knew she was trying to teach me patience and people building, but it is just now in her death that I am understanding her level of skill and genius. It takes skill to be surrounded by people who you are light years ahead of in terms of vision and thinking, and still get them to do what you want them to do. I struggle every day with people who are slow to learn, or underachievers. But granny? Give her a week, she will find a way to work with the person.

And Mama was not just a people genius with associates and friends, she mastered relationships within her extended family. Her burial is proof that even within her own family, even being a married woman, Mama made an effort to have a close and meaningful relationship with most if not all of her family, on both her maternal and paternal sides. And we are not talking brothers and sisters (of which she has so many, she could never quite pinpoint), we are talking of what Westerners would consider “distant” relatives, but people who by the standards of the clan and Acoli culture, are as close as your literal brother or sister. You have no idea what squad goals are until you see your deep deep people from all corners of your blood line come out for your burial the way they came (and stayed) for Mama’s.

A Visionary

I used to think that that my grandmother was great because she started a school with literally nothing during a war, and grew it to one of the most prestigious primary schools in all of Northern Uganda. In the wake of her death, I realized that the school itself is not the symbol of her greatness. Her true greatness is steeped in the fact that she revolutionized society around her and changed the way people view education. Where she could have sat comfortably in America like many do after the traumatic experience of fleeing for one’s life, she instead decided to learn all she could from the American system (starting with her GED and ending with a masters in special education the year of my birth) and take it back to her people. I haven’t even touched on the fact that she was doing this as a woman (we have to thank Grandpa Odongkara for his own forward thinking and supportive nature-he too was ahead of his time!) in a male dominated society, with no money. All of our lovely Silicon Valley startups with their angel investors and multiple fundraising rounds have nothing on my grandmother. And she lived this selfless visionary life, it wasn’t a job or hobby. Besides the thousands of students that have now passed through UNIFAT School, some of them today doctors, lawyers, and thinkers, she raised so many children beyond the 8 she popped out of her body, and helped a countless number of other people-whether it was paying their tuition, helping them come to America or in another way.

Gone

My grandmother was not supposed to die now or die like this. But she was stubborn, and people like her who dedicate their lives to a cause, mission, or to society, rarely if ever do what is best for themselves. If she had listened to us, she and I would probably be sitting together right now, finishing up dinner, while she told me stories about her life or made another inquiry about the whereabouts of her great-grand child, disguised as a promise to live long to meet this child. Unfortunately for her, the sacrifices she made years before I was even born gave me the freedom to delay marriage and childbirth, something she could have never dreamed of. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time and relinquish some of that freedom.

One of the few thoughts that gives me solace is knowing that her great grandchildren will know her as if they met her directly. They will know about both of their great-grandmothers.  I also ease the pain by committing myself to continuing the work and her legacy she created. I plan on editing and publishing (with help of course) her autobiography which she started, but never finished because of the million and one other things she was doing.

Aside from the pure shock and confusion on her loss, I just will genuinely miss talking with my grandmother and spending time with her. My grandmother was fun to spend time with, which is why I spent at least part of nearly every day with her when she was in America. I have never been more hopeful to see someone in the afterlife than I am to see her. I am grateful for the little time I had with her in Uganda this spring when she became very ill. If I had known when I left her to return to America in May that I would never see her again, I would have never left Uganda.

A Golden Life

But the truth is, as much as it hurts, grandma has earned her rest. And I am so fortunate to have had so many special moments, talks and just time with her. In Uganda (like all of Africa) where elders are revered, Mama shined bright. But in America, where elders are seen as a burden, she was like a big shiny diamond quietly resting under a cloth. Lucky for me, I knew she was a diamond and took every opportunity to bathe in her glow. It’s hard knowing that someone so amazing, so brilliant will never shine on you again. But Mama maximized every single ounce of her life; she is truly a fully actualized person if I’ve ever seen one. She had nothing left to prove or do, and yet she continued to live every single day so full of purpose and commitment. Although she is gone in the flesh, my love for her will continue forever.