Page 27 - Number 2 2021 Volume 74

Gertrude Rubadiri’s Story 15

On the phone, we talk about guests who arrived without notice and were
welcomed into our home. The Sunday lunch roast chicken often went a long way
towards ‘feeding a multitude’. Nourishment was something she always provided.
During times of trouble in Uganda when she found something – beans, sugar,
anything - she would share it with someone. Our aunties – Margaret Musila and
Sarah Ntiro were often the beneficiaries her generosity in this circle of sharing, as
she was theirs. The well was somehow always a circle of provision.
We reminisce how our move from Uganda to Kenya in June 1976 had us
boarding the last train to cross the border from Kampala to Nairobi. She made
sure we were all on board when the train started to take off from the station. She
was the last one to board the train, barely making it. She always looked out for the
well-being of others!
We made it to Kenya. But she was to return to Uganda a few weeks later
to get my brothers out of boarding school, risking her life as she waded through
roadblocks to reach them and get them out of the country. She was fearless.
“Leaving the country as refugees?” the army personnel questioned at the
checkpoints she dared pass through. She challenged them about the “insanity” of
being a refugee in an African nation. She said no African was a refugee on their
own continent.
She had been a freedom fighter in her own right. In the nineteen fifties
and early sixties, she engaged in the struggle for Malawi’s independence from
Great Britain. She and Dad were imprisoned along with other renowned freedom
fighters like Vera and Orton Chirwa, among others. She always fought for justice.
Even when it meant putting her life on the line.
We talk about her time in prison and what that was like. She was
expecting my brother, Sekou, at the time. She describes the appalling living
conditions and food which often comprised a watery porridge in a dirty container.
From that setting to house arrest to the threat of being sent to Likoma Island where,
at the time the conditions would have been dire, to finally making it to Kasungu,
thanks to her father-in-law’s intervention. She courageously prevailed. She
couldn’t imagine life without any of us. Each one of us was a miracle in her life.
She was our miracle, too.
We often talked about her role as a teacher. Having taught so many
around the world: in Malawi, Uganda, Kenya, and Botswana, she has left her
handprints on these lives, affecting various age groups and different nationalities.
During those morning calls she would have been tutoring little Rutheran, our 9-
year-old friend, whose family, the Napwangas took care of both Mum and Dad
until they passed away. Her dedication to Rutheran’s progress in reading, writing
and math was relentless. She had the same spirit when she developed a curriculum
to teach women in the community how to read and write. Many thought they
would never reach that goal. They rejoiced in being able to read the newspaper
once they had been through her lessons after a few months.