By Adrine Nsubuga Senior
RIP Allan Sekamate
So long, buddy
The shock of his passing has shaken me this morning. A peer, buddy, a mate. This is my 2 pence on his life and career.
His outward appearance was priestly, his manner British, his style brutal. He spoke softly but sharply and unequivocally. An unbending sports critic whose obstinacy and independence of mind came off as arrogance and impudence, which he was as a person. Journalism was his trade and profession, but sports was his passion. A distinguished sports journalist whose knowledge and love for all sports put him alongside Mark Ssali, both of the Nations Media Group fame, as models of sports journalism excellence.
As my peer and contemporary, we broke into the sports media space around the same time in the mid-1990s. He, the professional who studied journalism and was trained with a sports bias, and yours truly, self-made out of talent and passion but with a bias to football. Our friendship took root when I learnt early that we were both ardent KCCA FC fans, while he was also a vocal supporter of Chelsea Football Club. Our banter never stopped. But hold it, as a writer, I know a good writer when I see one, and Allan was as prolific as they come. His English, both oral and written, was Queen’s English. He was full of superlatives, awash with flair and glaringly short on the basics. As a Budonian (he was Namilyango), we always argued over which school was more accomplished and whose products were better.
Our path together didn’t stop at writing, critiquing, activism and outspokenness. We were both selected, alongside Mark Ssali, to be taken to England for professional training in TV football commentary in 2007 by GTV after identifying our talent in broadcast. Our trio returned to Uganda to pioneer live football commentary and studio punditry on pay television. The chemistry we developed was to last a lifetime, especially as we practically duplicated each other as passionate football writers, columnists, pundits, critics and commentators. My style is more similar to Allan’s than Mark’s, who is softer, calmer, accommodating and, safe to say, usually neutral.
Without being scripted, Allan and I were incisive, provocative, dismissive, divisive, unapologetic, controversial. No holds barred. The quintessential examples of critiques. That was our style. Still is, for me. My like is now no more. This is my attachment to Allan. He was my mirror in this space in many ways.
As a person, Allan split opinion. A man who always held his own, stuck to his beliefs and never allowed himself to be pushed over. He has struggled with heart issues for some years now, which is why he was operating under the radar. His love for Chelsea is the reason why, once in a while, he sought me out for banter. If there’s one thing I admired about him in this overpopulated world of sports opinionists, it was his skill at historic memory recall and statistics.
Bring on a sports debate and Allan would beat you hands down, if you were not Joseph Kabuleta, Mark or yours truly. This is when you would see vintage Allan. If all four of us appeared on a TV or radio show together for a discussion, the studio would light up. No one would move an inch on the side of the audience.
My nostalgia in this moment is triggered by the memories of our time when Allan, Mark, Joseph and I ruled the sports media space. Rarely did we agree on anything, and this only brought out the best in each of us. We could never be beaten in a debate by anyone outside our circle. We could never be beaten in a writing competition, and few dared to take us on in an oral contest. We respected each other, liked each other and provoked each other in equal measure.
For the love of sport, passion for sports journalism and independence of mind, Allan has left an indelible mark on the industry. Uganda is not producing his kind anymore, and that is the real absurdity of his demise. So long, my friend. I am glad we did this together.
