Morris Xavier Owona, Teacher at Moroto PTC
Morris died after anguish from scores of illnesses. He had his kidney shattered. His liver devastated. His lung smoked off. He could have died because - liquor his long time friend became a foe at long last.
He smoked cigarette since childhood and drunk a sea of pungent fluids like he created it. Yet, he taught like a preacher-man against the same drugs. But he also knew health science like he could never touch spirit.
Now he is gone because he could not practice what he really preached, so to speak. The science he taught is commonplace in Karamoja, other beneficiaries took it to Teso and some let it reach Bugishu. I think some seeds could have scattered to other parts of Uganda. Who knows, people traverse the world with their knowledge. But Morris is no more.
In my view, he is not to blame. I condemn the convolution of things in this world. One would slam God for creating such a world where knowledge and thoughts sometimes fail to work as a team. But to blame God is to lobby for a free ticket to enter the kingdom of Satan. Yes, we all know that God is the omnipotent. We cannot blame the omnipotent! So who do we blame?
In his last days, Morris talked a lot about life in the past and in the contemporary. He did oodles of comparative analysis about the two worlds. He certainly needed a chance to stay alive again and teach the world better. But God denied him the opportunity. Ok, God knows better.
I sat and talked with him many things. I didn’t ask him questions, but he put many to me. He challenged me on the way of life. He hated the young of this generation who abused alcohol and called them “a shame of the age”. He didn’t want to talk about his own video with the same drink because he had stopped shooting it completely.
His enemies called Morris a mad drunkard. Some referred to him as an indisciplined teacher. Others said he was a naughty, arrogant dirty character. While several others didn’t care about his lifestyle and only looked down upon him...just like a child whose age probably is the problem. But Morris was an adult in his middle 50s. Ok:
His friends will miss him for his generosity. Like most Karimojong people he believed in sharing and always wanted to be with a companion while on a lunch table. He also valued constructive debate especially on intellectual topics and this was only constructive when he is sober any way.
He was quick at recommending young eloquent debaters for political contests. He called the current MP for Labwor County, “a man with a long vision but with a personality that needs scrubbing a little from the inside of him”. He said Mr Ayepa had a small heart.
He argued that people with small hearts cannot repress emotions for long. “They are hot tempered” he roared. I tried challenging him that hot temper can be for the good or for the worse and that Hon. Michael’s temper is actually for the public good. But Morris won the debate. He said “electorates will not analyse you like academicians. They’ll use one scanty scenario, magnify it and political opportunists will use it against you for selfish gains”. The bottom-line, I liked his brain. He even knew his complications as a bedridden man. He probably even knew that he would go. He was intelligent.
My very last moments with Morris was at his college home in Moroto. I played for him South African music of the apartheid age. He loved it so much. I also played some older songs from the Congo, Tanzania and Kenya. He said the songs would take him back to the 70s when he used to play football as a student. Songs of Vvon Shaka Shaka and other African artists of the 90s also dug old memories from his head.
Now he is gone, as this sentence comes to an end, let me play some more of these South African songs just to make me remember Morris’s last words for the youth of today and tomorrow. May his soul rest in perpetual peace.
