There are moments, Sam Mwesigwa, aka Xamie says, when even he does not fully understand what just happened. He will be on stage, guitar in hand, fingers moving almost instinctively, and the audience moves with the music.
‘It is a beautiful feeling. You are not speaking, but you are playing notes that somehow speak louder than words ever could,’ he says.
And then, sometimes, he pauses just to say thank you.
‘I just say, ‘God, thank you for this gift.’ Because sometimes what I play blesses me first.’
Mwesigwa did not think he would be a guitarist. He thought he would be a dancer because he was good at it, dancing for his mother, training church groups, even leading his school’s dance team to victory at the first high school Kadanke competitions. But guitar was also there, in the background. During his Primary Seven vacation, he heard a neighbour playing and ran to his place immediately to ask for lessons. The neighbour was busy, but Mwesigwa sat on his veranda every single day, waiting. Sometimes he would get the guitar for five minutes. He would sit with it for hours, figuring things out.
‘When I learnt my first three chords, I went and played for my family. They were impressed. I think I was about 14,’ he says. His first paid gig came in Senior Four for a birthday party where he earned Shs100,000. ‘I realised, oh, guitar can actually pay.’
The moment that decided
In October 2016, everything changed. Travelling at night on a hilly murram road to a show, the driver lost control. The car flipped about eight times. Mwesigwa was in the front seat without a seatbelt and his guitar between his legs. When the car stopped, he was already outside. No one knows how. He hit his head, spine, and pelvis. He had internal bleeding and a concussion. When he woke up, he had no memory of the accident.
‘I kept asking my dad, ‘What year is it? Where is my guitar?’ I could not even recognise my own phone.’
His whole body was paralysed except for his hands and neck. But when they brought him a guitar, he played it. His fingers still knew.
‘That moment gave me so much relief. I realised I had not lost everything.’
Doctors said he might never walk again. He spent five months lying flat on his back. Slowly, he started moving, then walking. It took three to four years to recover. That was when he accepted that dancing had to stop. From that point on, he focused entirely on guitar.
Goal changes
Like many young musicians, there was a time when the goal was to be seen. But somewhere along the way, that changed. Now, he is intentional when playing for secular audiences and for worship.
‘In a concert, yes, you can shine. But in worship, you have to know that it is not about you. It should never be about you,’ he says.
The temptation is always there; the fast runs, the impressive solos, the moments that make people turn their heads.
‘You can play the most beautiful, complex things and people will leave saying, ‘That guitarist was amazing.’ But the real goal is for someone to get lost in worship.’
To him, success is not applause. It is invisibility. The kind where the music becomes a bridge, and he becomes almost invisible within it.
On leading others
One morning on his way to the gym, a young man stopped him on the road.
‘He said, ‘Excuse me, sir. I am really blessed by what you do. I follow you online.” Mwesigwa did not recognise him. Just someone who had been watching from a distance.
There have been other encounters too. A girl at a school camp saw him play in Senior One. She went home and told her parents she wanted a guitar. Now she plays and sings.
And there are the messages on social media: ‘You inspired me to start playing guitar.’
Income and discipline
‘In this line of work, income is unpredictable,’ he says plainly.
There are seasons when the money flows and you can make about Shs3m in a week, and months when earnings drop to Shs300,000 a month or less. What has sustained him is discipline.
‘While I was still living with my parents, I always saved 100 percent of my income.’ Even now, he saves 70 to 80 percent of what he earns. ‘If I get Shs300,000, I can save Shs250,000 and live on the rest. I do not consider it as mine. It is untouchable,’ he says.
Faith
Growing up in church, there were expectations about where one should play and who one should work with. But being a working musician forced him to confront a deeper question.
‘I realised my relationship with God has to be personal. Not based on what my church expects. Not based on what my parents expect. But what I truly believe.’
That clarity has shaped his boundaries. He does not drink. He avoids substances. ‘I know how it could affect me. Being on stage, travelling, working with big artistes all comes with pressure. So I try to be as sober as I possibly can.’
On rejection
Rejection has shaped him too.
‘I used to be very shy. Even afraid to approach people because I feared being rejected.’ But over time, his understanding changed. ‘Now I see rejection as redirection. Sometimes it is simply not the right time. Sometimes it is God saying, ‘This is not for you.” ‘I became mostly self-taught. The people who trained me gave me 10 percent, the rest I learned by listening, watching, and practising for hours. I cannot read music, but I can hear and play.’
He studied a diploma in Software Engineering while paying his own tuition through gigs. By 2018, his music career took off. He toured Europe with Vision for Africa; Germany, Austria, and Switzerland in three months.
‘That experience completely changed my perspective,’ he says. ‘I wanted to become a versatile musician, someone who can fit anywhere, adapt, and keep evolving.’
He chose to focus on gospel music because that is where his heart is, but he developed a unique sound influenced by RandB and neo-soul. Today, whether on stage or alone in his room, the guitar is the first thing he plays when he wakes and the last thing he plays when before he sleeps.
‘Because sometimes what I play blesses me first,’ he says. ‘And that is enough.’