His father died on 26 August 1995. King Oyo died on 27 August 2026. Thirty-one years and one day. People are calling it coincidence or something bigger. I don’t know what to call it. I just know his mother lived through both of those days.
She buried her husband and then watched them put a crown on a three-year-old who was still playing. Tonight she has buried that same child, now a man of 34, almost on the same calendar page.
They say he left a Prince. Another small boy whose name we do not know yet. I keep wondering how the Queen looks at the calendar and at that child at the same time.
The official pages will tell us the rest when the family is ready. Tonight I am just sitting with how the years lined up and how much one woman has had to carry between those two Augusts.
1999.
The boy in the green Aga Khan sweater sat at the front of the class, his hand up before his classmate even finished the question.
He knew the answer.
His name, according to the register, was George.
Outside the gate, royal guards waited.
But in here, he was just a boy who loved answering SST questions.
He was seven years old and the world's youngest king, but right now, none of that mattered.
The teacher had asked a question about yesterday's homework, and his hand was already in the air, fingers stretched toward the ceiling like he could grab the answer from the air itself.
His green sweater was slightly too big at the sleeves, the way school uniforms always are when you're still growing into them.
He sat at the front, not because anyone had put him there, but because that's where you sit when you want to be seen, when you want to be called on, when you have something to say.
The other children knew him as George.
Some of them knew about the crown, of course, you can't exactly hide being the Omukama of Tooro when your guards wait by the gate, but children are practical creatures.
A king who shares his lunch is just a friend.
A king who laughs too loud in the playground is just a boy.
And George laughed loudly.
He ran fast.
He argued about whose turn it was on the swings.
He was, in every way that mattered, exactly like the rest of them.
When the bell rang, he didn't walk out like a monarch.
He spilled out with the others, bag hanging on one shoulder, green sweater untucked, already talking about what was for lunch.
The guards were there, as they always were, but they kept their distance, and he kept his joy.
At home, the real kingdom awaited: the balcony with the miniature pool table, where his sister Ruth was already waiting.
She was older, watchful in the way sisters are, the keeper of his small secrets and the only person who could beat him at pool without him minding.
Their laughter filled the house.
Ruth would straighten his collar or hand him the cue, and he would line up his shot with the concentration of a chess grandmaster, tongue poking out slightly.
The weight of Tooro, the councils, the ceremonies, it all stayed outside.
In here, it was just the two of them, brother and sister, building their own small world on a balcony in Kampala.
Then the evening came, and with it the dogs.
Three German shepherds who knew nothing of thrones or titles, who only knew that the boy with the smole was their favourite human.
He ran into the garden, and they circled him, barking with delight, and he ran with them, arms wide, laughter spilling into the fading light.
He was not a king in that moment.
He was not the heir of centuries.
He was just George, seven years old, running with his dogs, alive and bright and burning with the simple joy of being alive.
That was 1999.
The boy in the photograph, the one raising his hand, the one in the green sweater, he grew up.
He became the man his people needed him to be.
He carried the weight, wore the crown, answered the call.
For thirty-one years, he was their king.
But those who loved him best will always remember the other George, the one who sat at the front of the class, who played pool with his sister, who ran with his dogs at dusk.
The kingdom announces that Rukirabasaija is gone.
But George?
George is still there, in the green sweater, hand in the air, ready with the answer.
He always had the answer.
He always will.
The boy in the green sweater.
The hand in the air.
The dogs in the garden.
The sister on the balcony.
These are the things that crowns cannot contain and history books often forget.
But they are the truest things.
They are the things that made him loved.
#ughistory #Tooro @ObukamaBwaTooro@toorokingdompm
What a guy ! What a King 👑
Truly amazing 🤍🫂. Rest well King Oyo ,
You chose the right path and we shall forever remember these words , truly etched in our hearts ❤️
A PRAYER FOR OUR KING 🙏🏾👑
Father God, right now we are asking You for a miracle.
You are the God of signs, miracles and wonders. There is nothing too difficult for You. Where human strength ends, Your power does not.
Lord Jesus, stretch Your healing hand over His Majesty King Oyo. Let Your mercy speak. Let Your healing power flow through his body. Restore what needs to be restored, strengthen what has become weak, and breathe life and strength into him.
Father, we are not leaning on what we hear or what we see. We are looking to You.
Please, Lord, have mercy upon our King. Do what only You can do. Give us a miracle.
In the mighty name of Jesus Christ,
Amen. 🙏🏾
It is with profound sadness and a heavy heart that I announce the passing of His Majesty the Omukama of Tooro, King Oyo Nyimba Kabamba Iguru Rukidi IV, at approximately 10:00 p.m. this evening.
This is an immeasurable loss to the Royal Family, the people of Tooro and the nation of Uganda.
Omukama Atulize.
Enkuba Etutire.
I call upon the people of Tooro to remain united, calm and prayerful during this difficult time.
The continuity of the Crown is assured. His Majesty leaves behind a Prince as his heir, whose identity will be formally revealed at the appropriate time, in accordance with the traditions and customs of Tooro Kingdom.
An official statement will follow with further details, including the funeral and mourning arrangements.
May His Majesty the King rest in eternal peace.
35 Years ago, today …. a sad
frustrated lady in Mijjeera went into early labour & had a 7months premature ..
With no money or support to go to the hospital for an incubator to save her child ,She created her own method that helped to keep this little girl warm enough to stay ALIVE & It WORKED! She didnt even know what she was doing but it worked !!
Today, The little premature girl is not only her mom’s biggest blessing but Family too 🙏🏾 & So many others…
Talk about a BLESSING IN DISGUISE!! THATS GOD🙏🏾
The past 3 Years have been the most fundamental years of my life! My spirit & character have been tested like a million times!!
Whaaat😳
If my Character was weak & inconsistent, I would’ve lost myself .
YET ..To be honest,
The same 3 YEARS came with Big LESSONS & Big BLESSINGS🙏🏾
One day, I will tell you ALL about it in my REAL LIFE documentary if GOD wishes🙏🏾 For Now…
Pray for ME & MY LITTLE BIRD to meet Safely, Healthly & Easily
(Yes ,Am scared of labour, It’s my first time & I have low tolerance for physical pain 😩)
I’ve always prayed for a baby at 35 & Boom!..
In a few…. I will be holding my Little bird in my hands… 🙏🏾
Indeed
“YOU CANT MANIPULATE THE UNIVERSE “ Look at THAT!!
I cant wait to meet the sweetest blessing of my life thou!
My Little Bird🐣 My own HUMAN! My Own Heart❤️
Thank you God for THIS beautiful ,Life changing YEAR🙏🏾
I know this too comes with new challenges but With YOU by my side ,
AM ALWAYS READY FOR ANYTHING!!
#GodAboveAll🙏🏾
#Neyanziza🙏🏾
#MyFavYearSoFar!!
#11112024!!
HBD TO ME👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾
To the amazing team that made this happen
MUA : @glam_bykeith
Outfit : @hers_uganda
Hairstylist : @mbajja_sean
📸 : @daville_256
Deco & setup : @icandyug
Accessories : @thesnstore
Fabrics : @eden.fabrics
Thank You so much👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾❤️
Tonight, I'm praying for Anyone who has lost direction as the year comes to an end. One who had a lot of hope and dreams to achieve this year but all seems lost. I want to tell you that So much can happen between now and december 31st🙏🏽 The LORD is doing marvellous things behind the SCENES🙏🙏Hold onto him. It’s not yet over for you my brother or sister.
The Indian community in Uganda led by tycoon Sudhir Ruparelia demands that the Indians in Uganda should officially be recognized as an open tribe because they have been here for over 120 years and importantly they contribute 65% on the country revenue, this is good for them but we also want to know why the Ugandans that work in Indians factories are paid 7k per day and those that do night shifts are paid 10k, imagine collecting bottles while standing all night just to be paid 10k, which tribe would be this that doesn’t care about other tribes?
@WannixHandi There will be signs from God
Energy queen has just won a IVM ikenga 🚗
Congratulations 🎈🎉 girl
You deserved this cause your always greatful no matter how small or big it is ❤️🙏
Proud of you for being a real genuine queen to others .❤️
@BeeofLaylay @ShaunOkojie Karma is real 🥹🙏
From week 2 you started de campaigning the guy .
We the shaunstars we are greatful for we managed to push him to week 8❤️🙏
Take away your fake consolations🥹