Roots and Roads: Reflections from a Transformative Holiday

Returning to East Africa after a year abroad was not merely a trip but a convergence of purpose, reflection, and rediscovery. It was a period of transformative encounters, intellectual engagements, and deeply emotional experiences. Although it was termed a “holiday,” in truth, the schedule left little room for leisurely indulgence. From Kakamega to Nairobi and onward to Jinja and Kampala, the roads I traversed wove a matrix of connections, questions, and contemplations about life, governance, and relationships.

East Africa, in its vibrant complexities, provided a classroom beyond walls. Through numerous interactions with professors, lawyers, and research assistants, I delved into the troubling yet fascinating subject of corruption, an ever-present shadow over the economies of Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania. These conversations exposed the multifaceted nature of corruption, a malaise that erodes trust, cripples development, and stifles human potential. The insights gained were not merely academic; they were a call to action to examine the philosophical underpinnings of governance and moral responsibility in the region.

This intellectual engagement culminated in two presentations: one focused on revitalising philosophy in East Africa, and the other explored the role of ecotheological studies in combating climate change. Each presentation affirmed the need for holistic approaches integrating philosophy, theology, and environmental ethics. Often seen as distant from practical concerns, these disciplines hold the keys to addressing existential threats to humanity and the natural world.

Yet, amid these lofty engagements, the rhythm of life back home beckoned with its cadence. Despite my packed schedule, I found time to reconnect with family and friends. However, the moments were fleeting. Organising the last funeral rites for my late brother Julius just three days after Christmas was a poignant reminder of the fragility and sanctity of life. His absence lingered like an unspoken question, urging me to cherish my time with loved ones.

The trips back home were not devoid of introspection. Meeting old classmates and friends, most of whom have embraced the conventional milestones of life: marriage, careers, and stable families, led to conversations that oscillated between admiration and curiosity. Their inquiries about my choice to remain celibate brought to light a lingering societal narrative: the assumption that fulfilment is inseparable from marriage and parenthood. Their questions were not new to me. “Do you not desire a wife?” they asked, their tone hovering between genuine curiosity and incredulity. The query found its way into my thoughts long after our conversations ended. Do I need a wife? The answer lies in reflecting on relationships and their roles in life’s design.

Women already occupy a central place in my life, my mother, whose wisdom anchors our family; my sisters, whose laughter infuses our gatherings with joy; and my aunts, whose nurturing spirits reflect an enduring love. If relationships were likened to the roots of a tree, then these women are the roots that anchor my being. A wife, it seems, would be another branch, significant yet not indispensable. Fulfilment, I believe, is not necessarily tied to societal expectations but rather to one’s alignment with purpose and values.

Metaphorically speaking, celibacy is akin to choosing a path through a dense forest. It is not the only path, nor is it necessarily the easiest, but it offers its vistas and challenges. It allows for a focused journey, unencumbered by marriage’s obligations. This choice is not a denial of love but a redefinition of it: a love that extends beyond the self to embrace community, faith, and a higher calling.

Returning to Europe after this whirlwind of experiences has been a bittersweet transition. I carry with me the warmth of communal gatherings, where stories were shared over delicious East African meals and the solace of familial bonds that no distance can sever. While my European community offers its sense of belonging, it lacks the ineffable quality of home: that place where one’s roots run deepest. As I resume my studies, I am reminded of the African proverb, “Charity begins at home but should not end there.” My journey is a testament to this wisdom. The knowledge and insights I gain in Europe are not solely for personal advancement; they are a means to contribute to improving my home, East Africa. The region’s challenges, from corruption to climate change, require intellectual solutions and a reawakening of collective moral consciousness.

In retrospect, the past month has been more than a physical journey; it has been a journey of the soul. It has reaffirmed the interconnectedness of human existence and shown how our choices ripple through the lives of those we encounter. It has also been a meditation on the nature of home, relationships, and purpose.

To those who question my path, I offer this reflection: Life is a mosaic, and each choice we make adds a unique tile to its design. The celibate life is not a rejection of companionship but a different shade in the mosaic, one that complements the whole. It is a path that allows me to engage deeply with the world while maintaining an inner freedom to serve the greater good.

As I look forward to reuniting with my family and friends in East Africa, I am buoyed by the knowledge that every journey, whether physical or spiritual, enriches the mosaic of life. The roads I have travelled, from Kakamega to Nairobi and from Jinja to Kampala, have broadened my horizons and deepened my appreciation for the beauty and complexity of human existence. Though the journey continues, the lessons I have learned along the way are treasures I always carry with me.