By Edward Naika (Nyungu)

Bashepembe banange, ekiwubalo kya Omush. Carlos kiri kumbisa bubi.

The passing of our dear brother and friend, Julius Izimba, affectionately known to us as Carlos, has left me deeply shaken. His death has brought back countless memories of our youthful days, the adventures we shared, and a friendship that endured for nearly five decades.

Omush. Ambassador MKK, thank you for that touching eulogy. I have read it repeatedly, and each time, it brings back a flood of fond memories.

Allow me, fellow Bashepembe, to share an edited excerpt from a collection of stories about our past that I have been compiling. I had not intended to share this piece so soon, but writing and revisiting these memories has become one of the ways I am trying to cope with the grief of losing Carlos.

Our First Meeting at Namasagali

I first met Julius during our first week as Agayaka, the new boys at Namasagali College.

The atmosphere was daunting. Some boys appeared remarkably confident, exchanging jokes and displaying a sense of humour that made the rest of us feel like strangers in unfamiliar territory.

I later discovered that many of them had come from the same school. Over time, I became close to several of them, forming friendships that have survived to this day.

However, there were a few boys towards whom I felt an immediate and natural connection. Julius was one of them.

We bonded almost instantly. Before long, we were doing practically everything together.

Then came the day of class allocation.

Julius and I stood side by side in a long queue as a teacher moved along, assigning us to different classes.

I was allocated to Senior One C, while Julius went to Senior One A.

It felt like a cruel separation.

I had barely settled into school life, and already I was being separated from a friend with whom I had formed such a strong connection.

Although Julius said nothing, I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

Fortunately, our sadness was short-lived. By the time we returned to the dormitory, the separation had been forgotten.

In Senior One C, I developed other strong friendships. We enjoyed classroom activities, school programmes and what I can only describe as our rather interesting extra-extra-curricular activities.

Some of those experiences could fill an entire book, but that is a story for another day.

Despite being in different classes, Julius remained an inseparable part of my dormitory life.

He was not as adventurous as I was, particularly when it came to our nocturnal activities after lights-out. I respected his cautious nature.

However, whenever Julius decided to participate, he committed himself fully.

And unlike some of us, he was rarely caught.

That remarkable ability to participate in risky adventures and escape detection earned him the nickname “Carlos the Jackal.”

In the main dormitory, our beds stood side by side. We shared practically everything, from food brought from home to cold-power.

Those were simple days, but they created memories that neither time nor distance could erase.

The Adventures of Two Schoolboys

Our friendship strengthened as the years passed.

In our third year, Julius and I shared a back room in the dormitory. It became the setting for countless conversations, dreams, aspirations, adventures, narrow escapes and laughter.

I am sure some Bashepembe will smile when I say:

“Eh, bano abaana beisomero nga beegisa. Tiboineku waire mulala.”

We eventually both found ourselves in Hoima for Senior Four, where the entertainment continued long after lights-out.

One unforgettable source of amusement was our friend, “Prof”, Albert Muwanguzi, whose captivating stories about The Life of Manku and Irana kept us entertained.

Julius was always the chief instigator.

As soon as the lights went out, he would remind everyone that Prof had another episode to narrate.

Those storytelling sessions became part of the unforgettable rhythm of our school life.

Carlos the Jackal and the Night He Became an Olympic Sprinter

Julius was a man of extraordinary talents.

I admired his remarkable ability in almost every game he played. Whether it was football, volleyball, hockey, badminton or chess, he seemed naturally gifted.

Running, however, was one activity in which he never appeared particularly interested.

For years, I assumed he simply lacked the speed.

That assumption changed dramatically one unforgettable night.

On one of my usual nocturnal expeditions to Cape, Julius unexpectedly volunteered to accompany me.

I was sceptical.

He lacked experience in these adventures, and I doubted whether he would make a suitable companion. Nevertheless, I agreed to take him along.

Our usual practice was to venture out on Thursdays or Fridays to minimise the “storage costs” of the merchandise we intended to consume on Saturday.

However, the previous week’s expedition had been disappointing. Most of our regular suppliers had run out of stock.

We therefore decided to go out on a Wednesday, hoping to avoid another shortage.

After lights-out, we waited patiently until the dormitory fell silent.

We then slipped out through the “gutter” and made our way along the village road towards Cape.

Unfortunately, our luck was no better.

We moved from one familiar joint to another, but nobody had what we were looking for.

After several fruitless hours, we abandoned the mission and began our journey back to school.

We chose a different route, hoping that perhaps fortune might smile upon us before we reached the dormitory.

Then, somewhere in the distance, we heard drumming and singing.

We immediately became excited.

Surely, we thought, our perseverance was finally about to pay off!

We followed the sound until we reached a house I had never visited during all my years of Cape expeditions.

Light escaped through openings around the door and windows.

Curiosity got the better of us.

Before knocking, we decided to peep inside.

What we witnessed remains etched in my memory.

About ten to fifteen people sat in two concentric circles.

At the centre stood a man dressed in bark cloth, waving a wreath of leaves towards a goat tied to a wooden stump. A candle stood on top of the stump.

The man led the singing, while those seated around him responded in chorus.

The scene was eerie.

I stood there wondering what on earth we had stumbled upon.

I turned towards Julius.

But Carlos was gone!

All I could see was his silhouette disappearing into the darkness at an astonishing speed.

He was sprinting towards the road as though his life depended on it.

I immediately took off after him.

Until that night, I had always considered myself a faster runner than Julius. I was therefore confident I would catch up with him.

How wrong I was!

Within moments, he had completely disappeared.

I became genuinely worried.

Unlike me, Julius was unfamiliar with the various routes through the village. In his frightened state, he could easily have wandered into an even more dangerous situation.

I could not shout his name for fear of attracting attention.

Neither could I abandon him to the possibility of being caught during his very first expedition.

I searched quietly, moving from one place to another, but there was no sign of Carlos.

Eventually, I decided to return to school.

My plan was simple. I would first check his bed. If he was not there, I would go back out and continue searching.

Imagine my relief when I reached the dormitory, approached his bed and felt Julius safely tucked beneath his covers!

The relief was almost therapeutic.

I whispered, “Are you alright?”

He calmly assured me that he was.

I then returned to my bed, still struggling to comprehend what had happened.

While I had been wandering around the village, worried sick and searching for my missing friend, Julius had completed what must have been a record-breaking sprint back to school.

He was already comfortably asleep!

The following day, we narrated the incident to our friends, much to everyone’s amazement and amusement.

That night taught me something important.

Julius could run.

In fact, had he shown the slightest interest in athletics, I remain convinced that Carlos the Jackal could easily have made it to the Olympics!

From Namasagali to University: A Friendship Beyond the Classroom

Our years at Namasagali passed remarkably quickly, but my journey with Julius was far from over.

Our friendship extended beyond the school gates and into our families.

I came to know his family well and became a frequent visitor whenever an opportunity arose.

I stood by Julius through happy and difficult moments.

I remember the painful loss of his mother, the housewarming ceremony in Namusisi, the graduation party in Bugembe and the many adventures we shared during our university years.

University life brought its own unforgettable experiences.

We became experts at gate-crashing parties across different neighbourhoods, often finding ourselves in situations that would provide laughter for days afterwards.

Julius’s father had bought him a small green Peugeot 2 series.

That vehicle became our university limousine.

Omush, Cip and Daktari of Letters must surely remember that famous machine!

It carried us through countless adventures, although it came with one rather unusual condition.

Its lights were never to be switched on.

Consequently, regardless of where we had travelled or how much fun we were having, the car had to be safely parked at home before darkness fell.

You should have seen the frantic journeys back home after particularly adventurous days!

Those desperate races against sunset were almost as entertaining as the outings themselves.

The Legendary Livingstone Room Parties

Julius also loved organising room parties at Livingstone.

And whenever Carlos organised a party, one could almost guarantee that something memorable would happen.

There was always music, laughter, excitement and, occasionally, unexpected drama.

I must confess that I was often too intoxicated to remember every detail.

However, one incident has remained particularly vivid.

We were enjoying ourselves one morning when a young man from northern Uganda suddenly forced his way into the room.

He demanded that we stop the music.

“The man is dead!” he announced.

I was irritated by the interruption.

Without giving the matter much thought, I shouted back, “Who cares?”

The young man said nothing.

He simply turned and rushed out.

We initially dismissed the incident and continued enjoying ourselves.

But a few minutes later, someone warned us that the young man was returning with a couple of armed soldiers.

Suddenly, the party was over!

Everyone scrambled to disappear.

It was one of those moments when youthful excitement quickly gave way to the instinct for survival.

Looking back, I can only smile at the extraordinary experiences that defined our friendship.

Distance Could Never Break Our Bond

In 1989, I headed south, and Julius and I were separated for almost eleven years.

Communication during that period was extremely limited.

We each continued building our lives, raising families and assuming greater responsibilities.

Yet the friendship we had established as young boys remained intact.

When I returned to Uganda in 2000, we reconnected.

Remarkably, it felt as though we had never been apart.

Our friendship resumed naturally, and if anything, the bond became even stronger.

In 2004, I joined Julius at NPART, where he was serving as Trust Administrator.

I worked as Senior Accountant.

For the first time in many years, we were not merely friends reminiscing about school and university adventures. We were also professional colleagues.

We enjoyed an excellent working relationship built upon the trust and understanding developed over decades.

Our collaboration eventually extended into business.

Together, we pioneered Sentrack Limited, a vehicle-tracking company.

It was yet another chapter in a friendship that had already taken us through school, university, family life and countless adventures.

In 2006, we learnt that NPART was to be wound down.

I began searching for another professional opportunity within Uganda, but nothing suitable materialised.

In 2007, I widened my search beyond the country and eventually accepted an offer from a British company as Management Accountant.

Once again, distance separated us.

Our communication became occasional, as each of us attended to the demands of work and family life.

But fate had not finished writing our story.

We were eventually reunited through our WhatsApp group.

There, alongside other old friends, we continued sharing memories, exchanging jokes and celebrating the enduring brotherhood that began so many years earlier at Namasagali College.

Farewell, My Brother Carlos

Today, as I struggle to accept that Julius is no longer with us, my mind keeps returning to those extraordinary years.

I remember the young boy who stood beside me in the class allocation queue.

I remember the friend whose bed was next to mine.

I remember the cautious but adventurous Carlos the Jackal, whose legendary sprint from Cape remains one of the funniest memories of my school life.

I remember the little green Peugeot that had to beat the sunset home.

I remember the university parties, the laughter, the close calls and the countless stories we promised ourselves we would continue telling.

Above all, I remember a loyal friend who remained part of my life through changing circumstances, geographical separation and the passage of time.

Julius, you were far more than a schoolmate or an old friend.

You were my brother.

You were a pillar in my life, a trusted companion and a constant reminder of the beautiful friendships that can emerge from the innocence of youth.

Nearly five decades of friendship cannot be reduced to a few pages.

Neither can the pain of losing you be adequately expressed in words.

As I write these memories, I find myself smiling one moment and fighting back tears the next.

That is the painful contradiction of grief. The very memories that bring us comfort also remind us of how much we have lost.

Carlos, your departure has left a void that can never be filled.

But I take comfort in knowing that the laughter we shared, the adventures we survived and the brotherhood we built will remain with me for as long as I live.

Thank you for the friendship.

Thank you for the memories.

Thank you for being part of my life’s journey.

Rest in eternal peace, my brother Carlos the Jackal. Until we meet again.

Edward Naika (Nyungu)

Former Namasagali College Schoolmate, Lifelong Friend and Accountant Based in the United Kingdom