In 1991, I arrived at King’s College, Budo. The school was filled to the rafters with the brainiest students I had ever encountered. Academically, I promptly found myself at the bottom of a class of 58 students. My father called it a disaster. The headmaster, Mr Sam Busulwa, believed it was a culture shock. Hitherto, I had never studied in a Ugandan school before. I had only schooled in ‘outside countries’ and international schools. Budo was neither. It was a hard-knock establishment where the knocks were reserved for those rudderless students who could not establish themselves academically. Subsequently, I was floundering in the dark before this came to light by Mr Busulwa’s illuminating influence.
Each Monday morning, of every week, students eagerly looked forward to his addresses during school assembly. In the school church, he would hold court with a powerful speech marrying a clear, singular message on what it meant to be a Budonian and how every student fitted that appellation by their very presence at the school.
This instantly made me feel part of the school by merely going to the school. With emotional resonance and flawless delivery, furthermore, Mr Busulwa rhetorically transformed abstract concepts into unforgettable aphorisms by deeply connecting with the student’s needs, using compelling storytelling, and leaving a lasting call to action.
His new book titled 85 Letters To My 40 Year Old Self: Looking Back at 85! reads like those cherished Monday sermonettes at Budo all those years ago, right down to the exclamation mark in the book’s title.
His speeches were often mightier than the question mark by the way their impact called for an exclamation mark. They turned me into a Budonian, those speeches. This book is not likely to convert you to a Budonian if you are not one. However, it will help you locate the excellence in you that ‘Busu’ (our nickname for Mr Busulwa) brought out in us at Budo.
To be sure, the book is what another famous Budonian, the late John Nagenda, would have termed a humdinger (something extraordinary). A lifetime of wisdom is distilled into letters every generation should read. Their central question being, what would you say to your 40-year-old self if you had the wisdom of 85 years?
In a broader literary context, this technique of an older narrator stepping in to offer wisdom to a younger version of themselves relies on authorial intrusion or is used in the genre of autofiction. As the author looks back, they use that memoir to reflect on or converse with their past self, it frequently blends into autofiction or retrospective narrative. Mr Busulwa’s book is to the latter. Also, in this literary genre, if an older character (who represents the author) breaks the fourth wall to directly address their past, it is a form of authorial intrusion.
In Mr Busulwa’s deeply reflective and inspiring book, with a readable Foreword by Katikkiro of Buganda kingdom Charles Peter Mayiga, the revered and legendary educator writes heartfelt letters to his younger self, sharing lessons shaped by decades of leadership, faith, service, and learning. With honesty and clarity, he reflects on the choices that shape a life; purpose, character, health, relationships, and the quiet discipline required to grow into one’s calling.
These letters are not only written to the man he once was, but to anyone seeking direction, meaning, and fulfillment. Mr Busulwa, I can personally testify, has dedicated his life to shaping generations through education, leadership, and mentorship.
It is telling that the means by which he expresses his educator credentials are letters. It recalls the phrase ‘man of letters’ and thereby literally and literarily turns Mr Busulwa into one. Incidentally, the phrase man of letters primarily refers to a highly educated scholar, intellectual, or professional writer who is deeply engaged in literary pursuits.
Historically originating in the 17th century, a ‘man of letters’ (or ‘woman of letters’) describes someone whose life and livelihood revolve around literature and ideas. They are usually critics, essayists, historians, or journalists. So you can see that I am who I am because of the lettered past Mr Busulwa exposed me to. This book is surely a timeless guide for anyone who wishes to live wisely, age gracefully and leave a meaningful legacy. In letter 21 of these 85 letters, each letter forms a chapter, Mr Busulwa advises that we stay true to our calling and, largely thanks to him, I personally have.