Death row dad meets daughter

ADapted from the New Vision Newspaper

Nabulondela reflects on the iminent meeting with her father, a Luzira inmate.

AFTER 12 years of pleading with the Luzira Prison authorities an inmate on death row is finally allowed to meet his daughter for the first time. Tony Mushoborozi was present at the reunion

FOR 12 years Betty Nabulondela had no idea what her father looked like.
Nabulondela’s father — Obed Masaba (not real name) — was jailed three months before her birth. Three years later, Masaba was found guilty of murder and sentenced to death.

That was long before Nabulondela understood what it meant to be on death row. Nabulondela is not alone; there are hundreds of such children spread all over Uganda.

She is attending a camp organised for the children of prisoners at the Child Welfare Centre in Namugongo. This is the closest she has ever come to meeting her father, who is still at Luzira Maximum Security Prison about 10km away.

A few metres away from Nabulondela, some girls are playing dodge ball while the boys are playing soccer. They are all children of prisoners from different parts of Uganda.

The Prisoner’s Child Camp has been organised by Wells of Hope, a Christian organization that takes care of the needs of prisoners and their children. Unlike the rest of the children, however, Nabulondela looks sad.

She arrived from Mbale the previous evening to attend this camp. Later in the day she will have an opportunity to meet her father for the very first time. Allan Mugumya, a male chaperone at the camp, appears to be keeping a close eye on her.

“Are you okay Betty?” Mugumya asks her. “I have never seen my father. Not even a picture of him,” she mutters between sobs. Pauline Akol, one of the chaperones, takes Nabulondela’s hand and urges her to skip a rope.

Initially hesitant, she eventually gives in and starts to skip. From the way these children interact and play it is hard to believe that it is only yesterday that they met for the first time. Nabulondela was born in 1996 in Mbale.

Her mother was not excited when she was born because her man had been arrested when she was just six months pregnant. Perhaps her only hope was that he might return home one day. But that was not to be.

Not long afterwards, Nabulondela’s mother got engaged to another man, packed her belongings and left for her new home. She went along with her daughter.

Unfortunately, her husband did not like the idea of raising another man’s child. After a year, Nabulondela’s mother decided that she would not stretch her new husband’s patience anymore and took the child to Masaba’s brother who is a shopkeeper in Mbale town.

And that has been Nabulondela’s home ever since. Wells of Hope traced Nabulondela to this home.

The organisation brought Nabulondela to this camp the previous day and will take her and other children like her to meet their parents at Luzira Prison later in the day.

Before Nabulondela left Mbale she informed her mother about her scheduled trip to meet her father. “I know she would have loved to come with me, but she said her husband would take offence.

Before I left, my mother asked me for a pencil and a piece of paper and she wrote him a letter. After she sealed the envelope, she gave it to me,” Nabulondela says.

Wells of Hope is the outcome of the vision of a one-time prisoner — Francis Suubi — who served a 68-day sentence at Luzira. While in prison Suubi once heard a man in a cell swear that once he was released from jail he would kill a man accused of molesting his daughter.

On his last day in prison, Suubi was approached by a woman prisoner who begged him to visit her children. Upon his release, Suubi’s notebook was full of pleas from various prisoners concerning their children.

His experience as a volunteer with Prison Fellowship International in 2005 is what led him to launch Wells of Hope. Today, Wells of Hope supports 120 children in school; most of these children’s parents are either on death row or HIV-positive.

“We bring the children for these camps to give them assurance that even if their parents are not there for them, Jesus Christ still cares for them. During the camp, we counsel the children, teach them about sexuality and hygiene,” Suubi says.

Before Wells of Hope started its mission to the children of prisoners, Masaba had already stared pleading with the prison authorities to give him an opportunity to see his daughter.

For 12 years, his pleas fell on deaf ears. From prison warders to inmates who were about to complete their sentences he made his one wish in life — to see his daughter before facing the hangman — known.

Masaba’s plea is partly what inspired Suubi to form Wells of Hope. These children from all over Uganda are about to meet their parents — some for the very first time. It will also be another first for Luzira Maximum Prison to host these children.

At one minute to 2:00pm, the gate to the Upper Luzira Prison opens and the children walk through. Nabulondela falls behind the rest of the children. She is holding onto Mugumya’s hand.

She looks down as though her eyes would be seared if she looked at the prison ward. Meanwhile, Masaba takes a few steps forward, thrusting his head forward and peers at the children as though through a dark hole.

He seems to be deep in thought. After some formalities, the name of each child is read followed by that of their parent. Twenty-four names later, Nabulondela’s name is read out and then her father’s.

“Obed Masaba aliko wapi (Where is Obed Masaba)?” barks the warden. A few prisoners stir and look at each other. One of them calls out, “Where is Masaba?” The warden’s face darkens with impatience.

Seemingly oblivious to what is going on, Masaba appears from the ward with a Bible in his hand. The chaperones turn their heads to look at him, but Nabulondela hides her face.

The warden reads the name again, this time in an angry tone. Masaba looks at the crowd. His eyes are wide open and he appears to be trembling. But he does not respond. He places the Bible on his breast and stands still.

For a brief moment, silence reigns as everyone looks at Masaba. He looks like a priest in his white prisoner’s uniform. Perhaps because of the visitors around, the warden calls out the prisoner’s name again then turns round to look at Masaba.

He sighs and walks towards the group of children. Nabulondela, who has all along been holding onto Mugumya’s hand, pulls up her T-shirt to cover her face. Mugumya begins to walk her towards Masaba.

As he stands looking at his approaching daughter, his face is full of all sorts of expressions. One corner of his mouth is curved into a smile, while the other shows deep sadness.

His lower lip twitches and beads of sweat form on his brow. His mouth is slightly open, and his nose heaves as he breathes in and out. Mugumya bends over and whispers something in Nabulondela’s ear.

He then lets go of her hand and stands aside. Father and daughter stand in front of one another. It is an emotional moment. Nabulondela lets the T-shirt drop from her face and opens her eyes. The moment their eyes meet, Masaba takes a step forward and drops to his knees.

His right hand is now tightly clutching the Bible. Masaba spreads out his arms and says: “COME!” Nabulondela moves into her father’s open arms and wraps her little arms around his neck.

She then begins to cry hysterically, while rocking her father. “It is okay… it is okay,” Masaba lovingly whispers into her ear as he pulls a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the tears off her cheeks.

Masaba lifts Nabulondela off the ground, places her on one shoulder and he walks towards a nearby bench. After sitting down, Masaba places Nabulondela on his lap and hands her the Bible. As though in reciprocation, Nabulondela fishes out the letter in her pocket from her mother and gives it to Masaba.

His face is expressionless as he puts away the letter in his shirt pocket. He seems to regard it as an interruption of the fatherdaughter reunion; after all it is only a 10-minute visit and every second counts.

Before long it is time to leave. Nabulondela wraps her arms around her father’s neck and he says: “Betty, I am really sorry.”

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