Isaac Sekiro jr.

EULOGY FOR HIS MAJESTY KING OYO. There are moments when words become too small for grief. The passing of His Majesty King Oyo is such a moment. I mourn him on my own behalf, on behalf of the Consulate General of the Republic of Seychelles, and on behalf of Kampala Associated Advocates. But above all, I mourn him personally, as one who has walked alongside this Royal Family across generations. His late father, King Kaboyo, was my friend and my squash-playing mate. I have shared a long friendship and affection with the Queen Mother, Best Kemigisa, Princess Elizabeth Bagaya, and many members of the Royal Family. I therefore watched Oyo not merely as a King, but as the son of a family that has been woven into the fabric of my own life. And perhaps that is why his passing hurts so deeply. I remember the little boy upon whose tiny shoulders destiny placed a crown far heavier than his years. Most children inherit toys. Oyo inherited a Kingdom. As a little child, he was told that he was a King. How could a child possibly comprehend the enormity of those words? But somewhere along the journey from childhood to manhood, Oyo must have become conscious of the extraordinary responsibility destiny had placed upon him. He grew up under the unrelenting gaze of a people and a world watching his every step. Wherever he went, eyes followed him. His words, his dress, his walk, his friendships, even his laughter were observed through the prism of royalty. For any human being, let alone a child, that burden could have been overwhelming. Yet those of us who knew him witnessed something remarkable. He carried it all in his stride.And here, history must also give credit to his mother, Queen Best Kemigisa. She instilled in her son the beautiful culture of the Batooro: their gentleness, courtesy, dignity, kindness and the unmistakable softness and grace of their language. She did it so profoundly that eventually these were no longer qualities Oyo needed to demonstrate. They became part of him. Kingship seemed effortless. You heard it in his voice. You saw it in his gaze. You recognised it in his walk, his dress, his style and even in his laughter. There was something about his presence that inspired affection, admiration and that instinctive royal reverence which cannot be commanded by a crown. For Oyo, “to be or not to be” was never the question. He simply was. He did not have to remind you that he was a King. You simply knew. And now, painfully, the little boy who became a King has himself become part of history. A mother has lost her son. A family has lost one of its own. Tooro has lost its King. And those of us privileged to have watched his extraordinary journey have lost a part of our own lives. But death does not have the final word. A crown may fall silent, but a legacy never does. A King does not truly depart when his heartbeat stops. He lives wherever his people remember who they are. He lives in their language, their traditions, their dignity and in the stories parents will tell their children about those who came before them. Perhaps that is the great mystery of human life: we are given only a season on this earth, but what we give to others can outlive the season we are given. Your Majesty, you came to the throne as a child. You leave behind the footprints of a King.May Almighty God, before whom every earthly crown must ultimately bow, receive you into His eternal Kingdom. May He comfort your beloved mother, the Royal Family and the entire people of Tooro. To say that we shall miss you is a gross understatement. There are absences that leave an empty chair. Yours leaves an empty space in the heart of a Kingdom. Farewell, Your Majesty. You have left our sight, but not our story. You have left the throne, but not the hearts of your people. Kings may leave their thrones. Great Kings never leave their people. Rest in peace. Uganda mourns you. @ObukamaBwaTooro @toorokingdompm @QueenOlimi @KagutaMuseveni @FrankTumwebazek @MargaretMuhanga