By Marion Apio | Contributing Writer | California Local News Fellow
Recently I felt a strong urge to reconnect with a close friend, Owekitinisa Sylas Ruhweza Atwooki, a passionate Ugandan leader whose life touched hundreds of people through leadership, mentorship, and community service. We had not spoken frequently since I moved to the United States to pursue my dream of becoming a journalist.
I sent a text to Sylas on March 21 checking in. The following day, I found out from a friend that my 32-year-old friend, whom I called brother, had been in and out of hospitals. He chose to keep his condition private. I was shocked and saddened, wishing I had known earlier so I could offer support.
At first, reports from family and friends were hopeful. Sylas was receiving treatment in Kampala for malaria and low blood platelet counts. However, his condition worsened, and after countless tests, the terrifying news arrived via WhatsApp on May 29.
Sylas had passed away.
His death sparked an extraordinary outpouring of love and solidarity. Friends, colleagues, and former scholars mobilized to support his family, settle medical expenses, organize virtual vigils, and plan a dignified farewell. Hundreds gathered at St. Augustine Chapel in Kampala to pay their respects. Within three days, the Mastercard Foundation Scholars and Alumni community raised approximately $2,900, a testament to Sylas’ impact on countless lives.
In the days that followed, I found myself wrestling with difficult questions. In a world where we spend so much time following people online, are we paying enough attention to those quietly transforming lives around us? Why do we invest so much emotional energy in distant personalities while overlooking the people God has placed right in front of us?
Sylas lived with humility and served with grace. His passing exposed a fundamental contradiction in modern life: We live in an era of unprecedented connectivity, but often less connected personally.
According to the Uganda Communications Commission, the country has over 17 million mobile internet subscriptions and 10 million WhatsApp users. The average internet user now spends more than 16 hours a week on social media alone, yet many of us are becoming increasingly disconnected from the people who matter most.
Sylas resisted this trend. Through mentorship, service, and community building, he remained deeply present in others’ lives.
As president of the Mastercard Foundation Scholar’s Alumni Association, which helps young Africans access education and dignified work, Sylas embodied the values the program instills.
Every year, young Africans leave home to pursue education and professional opportunities abroad. Distance, time zones, and rising travel costs make it difficult to maintain relationships and remain actively involved in the communities that helped shape us. This challenge is especially relevant for Mastercard Foundation scholars and alumni.
For Sylas, the answer was simple: show up. Celebrate others. Offer support. Stay connected.
He never allowed geographical or personal barriers to become excuses for disengagement. Even while facing his own struggles, he invested in others. He embodied the values of ethical leadership, service, and community empowerment.
Sylas did not wait for a perfect platform to create change; he simply served where he was. He also served as Minister of Information in the Toro Kingdom in Uganda, building bridges between education, culture, and professional development.
Since his passing, social media has been filled with memories of his infectious smile and unwavering commitment to others. Those tributes reveal an important truth: people gave generously because Sylas had first given himself generously to them. People from different backgrounds, generations, and communities showed up because he had spent his life showing up for them.
That is the heart of his story, and his legacy now challenges all of us. The greatest tribute we can offer is not simply to mourn his loss but to continue his work.
The tragedy of modern life is that too often our attention to distant lives comes at the expense of meaningful relationships nearby. Genuine connection is being replaced by passive digital interaction. Families and communities cannot thrive on likes, retweets, and emojis alone. They require presence—phone calls, visits, conversations, and the willingness to notice when someone is struggling.
Before spending another hour immersed in the lives of strangers online, look around. Call the friend you have not spoken to in years. Check on a family member. Reach out to a colleague who seems withdrawn. Communities are not built by algorithms or celebrities. They are built by ordinary people who choose, day after day, to care for those within their reach.
While his death is deeply painful, his life remains a powerful example of how we should live, with a simple truth that people gave generously because Sylas had first given himself generously to them.
