BUTALEJA, Uganda 鈥 Musa Hasahya Kasera has so many children he can鈥檛 remember most of their names.
The Ugandan villager is struggling to provide for his vast family that he says includes 12 wives, 102 children and 578 grandchildren, and now feels enough is enough.
鈥淎t first it was a joke鈥 but now this has its problems,鈥 the 68-year-old told AFP at his homestead in the village of Bugisa in Butaleja district, a remote rural area of eastern Uganda.
鈥淲ith my health failing and merely two acres of land for such a huge family, two of my wives left because I could not afford the basics like food, education, clothing.鈥
Hasahya, who is currently unemployed but has become something of a tourist attraction in his village, said his wives now take birth control to stop the family expanding further.
鈥淢y wives are on contraceptives but I am not. I don鈥檛 expect to have more children because I have learnt from my irresponsible act of producing so many children that I can鈥檛 look after.鈥
Hasahya鈥檚 brood lives largely in a rapidly dilapidating house, its corrugated iron roof rusting away, or in about two dozen grass-thatched mud huts nearby.
He married his first wife in 1972 at a traditional ceremony when they were both about 17 and his first child Sandra Nabwire was born a year later.
鈥淏ecause we were born only two of us, I was advised by my brother, relatives and friends to marry many wives to produce many children to expand our family heritage,鈥 Hasahya said.
No fighting
Attracted by his then status as a cattle trader and butcher, Hasahya said villagers would offer their daughters鈥 hand in marriage, even some below the age of 18.
Child marriage was only banned in Uganda in 1995, while polygamy is allowed in the East African country according to certain religious traditions.
Hasahya鈥檚 102 children range in age from 10 to 50, while the youngest wife is aged about 35.
鈥淭he challenge is I can only remember the name of my first and the last born but some of the children I can鈥檛 recall their names,鈥 he said as he rummaged through piles of old notebooks looking for details about their births.
鈥淚t鈥檚 the mothers who help me to identify them.鈥
But Hasahya can鈥檛 even recall the names of some of his wives, and has to consult one of his sons, Shaban Magino, a 30-year-old primary school teacher who helps run the family鈥檚 affairs and is one of the few to have received an education.
To resolve disputes in such a huge set-up, Hasahya says they have monthly family meetings.
A local official who oversees Bugisa, a village of about 4,000 people, said that despite the challenges, Hasahya has 鈥渂rought up his children very well鈥 and there had been no cases of theft or fighting for example.
鈥楤arely enough鈥
Bugisa鈥檚 residents are largely peasants involved in small-scale farming of crops such as rice, cassava, coffee, or raising cattle.
Many members of Hasahya鈥檚 family try to earn money or food by doing chores for their neighbors, or spend their days fetching firewood and water, often traveling long distances on foot.
Those at home sit around the grounds, some women weaving mats or plaiting hair, while the men play cards under the shelter of a tree.
When the midday meal of boiled cassava is ready, Hasahya saunters out of the hut where he spends most of his day, and calls out in a commanding voice for the family to line up to eat.
鈥淏ut the food is barely enough. We are forced to feed the children once or on a good day twice,鈥 says Hasahya鈥檚 third wife Zabina.
She said if she had known he had other wives, she would not have agreed to marry him.
鈥淓ven when I came and resigned myself to my fate鈥 he brought the fourth, fifth until he reached 12,鈥 she added in despair.
Two of his wives have already left Hasahya, and another three now live in another town about two kilometers (1.2 miles) away because of the overcrowding at the homestead.
When asked why he thought more of his wives did not abandon him, Hasahya declared: 鈥淭hey all love me, you see they are happy!鈥