Day 5: My Proudest Moment

I sat watching the cursor blink while I thought—and thought hard—about my proudest moment. I nearly broke my brain, people.

After much internal debate, I finally came to a realisation: I don’t have just one proudest moment. Life hasn’t handed me a single defining peak—it’s given me several, scattered across different seasons. So for Day Five, here are a few of my proudest moments.

• The day I graduated – January 2015.
  Meeehn. It had been a long five years. Very long. The kind of long that tests your patience, your stamina, and your belief in yourself. Walking across that stage in cap and gown felt surreal. All the late nights, doubts, and pushing through finally culminated in that one moment. Dressing up, standing tall, knowing I’d finished what I started—awesome. Just awesome.

• The day I finished my first book, Charity’s Story.
  I was fifteen years old, armed with nothing but imagination and those 96-page Picfare notebooks. The story followed the journey of a little orphan girl travelling from the village to the city during a time of great turmoil, Idi Amin’s era. I poured myself into that story page by page, line by line. Looking back, I’m still proud of it. It was ambitious, heartfelt, and honestly? It was a really good story, if I do say so myself.
• The day Uganda’s Jazz Maestro, Isaiah Katumwa, told me he was a fan of my voice.
  I should probably be humble about this one, but I’m not. The man said I had inspired him to sing. HIM. That moment is etched into my memory forever. It was surreal, affirming, and deeply validating in ways I still struggle to put into words. That’s a day I’ll remember until I die.
• Winning the very first Felonious Gru Award (also known as the Dennis Asiimwe Award).
  This happened during last year’s Short Story Writing Competition, and it remains one of my proudest achievements. I’m incredibly proud of the story that went on to become Dennis Asiimwe’s favourite. I admire him deeply, and hearing him say that my story stood out to him was… well, there really are no words.

So yes, these moments—big and small, loud and quiet—are pieces of pride I carry with me. Each one reminds me that I’ve shown up, tried, created, and grown.

And honestly? That’s something worth being proud of.

Okay 5 down, 25 days to go…

Mables