He Knew Who I Was, Before I Did – A Tribute to My Father-in-Law

I walked in, a young woman stepping into a name,

Not just into a family,

But into a legacy.

And there he was Sharp suit. Calm strength.

A quiet storm of wisdom.

He didn’t need to say much.

But when he spoke,

It landed.

Truth. Identity. Honour.

He looked at me and said,

“You carry the Bvunzawabaya name now. Carry it with pride.”

And just like that,

He shifted something in me.

I wasn’t just someone’s wife—

I became part of a lineage.

A story.

A name worth carrying well.

He had this way of seeing you.

Really seeing you.

He saw past the surface and called out the gold.

Now I see him

—in Tanaka Peter—

Our son, named in his honour.

That hair. Those sideburns.

But more than that—

The presence.

The promise.

He walks in the room,

And you know he’s his grandfather’s grandson.

Muchada carries him too—

In the way he loves,

Leads,

Listens.

That same quiet authority.

And then there’s Tino—our firstborn.

Strong. Rooted.

Carrying the name Bvunzawabaya with pride.

He walks like a man who knows where he comes from.

He doesn’t boast—he embodies.

Firstborn strength.

Solid as a rock.

And Tasha—

Oh, Baba would have smiled wide at her.

Refined taste,

Sophisticated palate,

A heart that loves beauty,

Not just in things, but in people.

She walks in elegance,

But her spirit? Fierce.

She would have had long conversations with him—

Debating, dreaming, discerning.

He would’ve loved that.

Sometimes, I catch myself thinking,

“I wish he was here.”

To see how far we’ve come.

To see Brand Bvunzawabaya—not just surviving, but thriving.

To see his grandchildren becoming.

But in truth, he is here.

In every strong decision.

In every proud moment.

In every echo of wisdom we pass down.

He still speaks—through us.

We miss you, Baba.

But we carry you.

Always.