03/06/2025
"We felt the need to share a profound passage by Frank Mutubila. While it may be lengthy, we encourage everyone—whether married, courting, or single—to take the time to read and reflect. There are valuable lessons within that can resonate deeply, regardless of your relationship status. Please take a moment to immerse yourself in these insights and draw a lesson or two that speaks to you.
Yesterday, I had the honor of being the Guest of Honor at the wedding celebration of Bwembya and Dolly, now Mr. and Mrs. Kafita.
It was a deeply humbling experience. I chose not to speak as a hero, because I am not one. Instead, I spoke simply as Frank Mutubila, the son of a reverend. A man who has made many mistakes in life and hopes that no one, especially the young, ends up making the same. Below is my speech…
Thank you for this moment though I carry it with trembling hands.
I stand here not as one who conquered marriage, but as one who failed… more than once.
I do not speak today with triumph, I speak with grief… and the heavy breath of a man who has watched love walk away… and never return.
I have been married twice.
And I lost both marriages.
Not suddenly… but slowly.
Through silence. Through pride. Through the foolish belief that love could wait while I chased the world.
My first marriage was in my youth, I was 22.
She was my friend… and that friendship became the only thing that survived our parting.
We separated peacefully, yes.
But peace does not mean pain was absent.
She stayed in England for the sake of our son. I returned home.
That son turns 50 this year.
But there are years of his life I cannot remember because I wasn’t there.
And there are years of mine he doesn’t know because I never let him in.
My second marriage was more complicated.
It was born out of admiration… out of beauty… out of glamour.
instead of learning her, I assumed I could buy peace by providing.
But I learned painfully that no amount of money can hold together what the heart does not feel safe in.
I tried to be a good father.
And in trying… I failed.
I thought provision could replace presence.
I believed paying for school fees could replace asking, “How are you?”
I believed gifts would fill the void left by my absence.
But I was wrong.
So painfully wrong.
And now I live in the ruins of what could have been.
I hold memories that won’t smile back.
I walk through rooms where laughter once echoed… and now there is only silence.
There were moments, few, but sacred when I tried to serve.
Sundays were mine.
I would cook. Not out of obligation, but out of reverence.
The kitchen became my altar.
I would serve the food with a quiet hope that maybe just maybe this was my way of saying, “I’m still here. I still care.”
But food can’t undo abandonment.
And kindness on Sunday cannot erase absence Monday through Saturday.
My daughter, Bangy, is here today.
And I struggle to say this without trembling…
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the empty chairs I left behind.
I’m sorry for the questions I never stayed to answer.
I’m sorry for the pain I caused through silence, and the betrayal of choosing work over family.
You loved me… but I didn’t always love you well.
You forgave me… but that does not erase the memories I failed to give you.
And that is the kind of sorrow that lives in a father’s soul until his last breath.
To this couple… and to everyone listening:
Please… don’t follow my footsteps.
Don’t let pride steal the small, precious moments.
Don’t let ego silence your heart.
Don’t let the chase for admiration make you abandon the one who would have stayed without applause.
Love cannot be postponed.
Presence cannot be replaced.
And regret once it settles, stays.
We are not taught how to hold each other when the lights dim.
We are not taught how to sit in pain together, instead of running alone.
We are not taught that love is not loud it is loyal.
Be gentle with one another.
The king of the jungle is not the strongest, not the wisest he is the bravest.
And in love, bravery is choosing each other again and again… even when it hurts… even when it’s hard.
Manage your home with tenderness.
Manage your finances with caution.
Do not be so generous with the world that your own family starves not just for food, but for your time, your warmth, your spirit.
If God gives you children, don’t just raise them know them.
And if He doesn’t, love each other all the more.
Don’t go seeking what’s not meant to be found.
Don’t turn to charms or desperation.
“Thou shall have no other gods before Me.”
And when we forget that, the home becomes the battlefield.
To the groom she is not a trophy. She is a heart, a story, a soft place that needs your protection.
To the bride he is not a provider alone. He is a man carrying unspoken fears. Pray for him.
To both of you
Hold each other like it’s your last chance.
Speak kindly.
Say sorry fast.
And never go to bed without saying, “I love you.”
Because one day, the voice might be gone.
And you’ll be left calling out into a silence that does not answer.
This speech is not just a ceremony.
It is the open wound of a man who loved too late.
Who spoke too proudly.
Who stayed away too long.
And if you remember anything I said today, let it be this:
Do not wait to become the person your family needed after they’ve learned to live without you.
Before I close, let me leave you with a truth that must never be forgotten:
Marriage is not for selfish people.
Marriage is not for those who crave the spotlight.
Marriage is for people who understand… TEAMWORK.
Marriage is not a competition.
It is not a race to be right.
It is not one person speaking in tongues while the other is outside singing: “Ba muna banga, ma siku yonse ni ku bar…
No. That is not order.
That is not covenant.
That is not love.
Marriage is about agreement.
It is about oneness even when you don’t fully understand each other.
When one is tired, the other holds.
When one is weeping, the other listens.
When one is praying, the other is not partying.
When one is discouraged, the other is not entertaining attention elsewhere.
There must be order.
There must be respect.
There must be humility.
To the husband:
You don’t marry a finished product, you build with your hands, your words, and your conduct.
You help shape a humble, loyal, obedient wife by being a faithful, consistent, and patient man. And to the wives:
Submission is not weakness.
Obedience is not oppression.
Humility is not defeat. It is strength quiet, sacred strength.
To the men Be a gentle giant.
Be strong, but not cruel.
Be firm, but not harsh.
That woman you’ve married is fragile, not because she’s weak, but because she was made with great care.
She is the result of nine months of sacrifice, carried in pain, raised in love, prepared in prayer.
She is somebody’s daughter and now, she’s your responsibility.
Be a disciplined, protective captain of your home.
Don’t steer it with anger.
Don’t lead with ego.
Lead with vision, with self-control, with kindness.
Your house is not your kingdom it is your calling.
So, when things get hard and they will remember:
Don’t fight each other. Fight for each other.
When temptation comes and it will remember:
No beauty, no body, no thrill is worth losing your family.
And when pride rises as it often does remember:
Love always wins in surrender, not in shouting.
Let this be your legacy:
That when the world looks at your home…
They must see peace.
They must see order.
They must see God.
Congratulations to the bride and groom.
May your love be real.
May your home be strong.
And may your marriage outlive your pain, your pride, and your plans.
May your marriage be holy. May your home be whole.
And may your love never be reduced to a memory too painful to revisit.
Congratulations
May God hold you closer than I ever held the ones I loved.
Thank you
