MEMOIRS OF A COLLEGE STUDENT

By Naika Richard Basiime

I first heard of Namilyango College as a primary school pupil deep in my home area, when our class teachers used to examine us about the oldest and first secondary school in Uganda. Of course, no one used to fail that question It was so simple.

I remember filling my forms in 1991, and placing Namilyango College as my second choice, after King’s College Buddo. But as bad luck (or was it good luck?) may have had it, I was not taken by my school of first choice. I felt like boiling with rage. But it later died down, when my parents informed me that the second choice school had admitted me, and that it was an equally good school. I accepted to settle for Namilyango College, and up to now, I have no regrets over that.

So, come 9th March, 1991, the day we were supposed to report to school, I was ready to leave home at the earliest time I had ever come out of bed. For the first time in so many years, I beat my parents at waking up very early. By 3.00 pm on that very day, I was already at school, accompanied by my parents and other family members. After going through the hustle and tussle of registering and having my property checked at the main building by the teachers, I was finally allocated and sent to House Billington. It was the only house of diplomats in the school, so I was told by the boys who had been in the house for the past years. The members of the house really loved it, and trust them, they offered to make life easier for me in the house.

I was led to the house by a prefect, and introduced to the other small boys who had reported earlier in the day. I then returned to the administrative block, to bid my parents farewell. The sight of my mother leaving me here alone, in the land of strangers, with no one else known to me, left me shedding tears. I had promised her at home that come what may, I would not cry when left alone at school. But here I was, betraying myself infront of my mother. That is life, that is growing up, she consoled me and left together with everybody who had come with us.

I returned to the house, and made my bed. As I was lying on the bed, thinking of how to start life in this new world, I heard a siren hoot, the type of sound that is associated with the fire brigade trucks and ambulances. A fire must have broken somewhere around the school, or may be someone has fallen ill, I convinced myself. But I was later proved wrong when I saw a group of students, smart in their white shirts and khaki shorts, coming from the direction which I later came to learn was where the classrooms were.

The boys came in the house, and that is when I saw my mentor, a boy in a higher class who was sleeping on the lower bed. He was not a bad boy. He welcomed me and asked me a few questions about myself. I answered politely, and in a matter of minutes, we were already friends. Other students came from the other cubicles, asking me disgusting questions: about how many sisters I had, and whether any of them had been booked, and if so, who were their prospective “candidates”. The others just asked me where I came from, and told me that I had come to a place where reading was the main activity. They told me that if I failed to read hard, then I would be sent home forever. This sent a clod chill down my spine.

How embarrassing would it be for me to be sent home that I was not worthy what I was? Within myself, I took up this challenge an vowed never to be a victim of this. I even felt like going to class immediately to start the battle. However, the stubborn ones would tell me that at night, there are certain “ priests” by the names of “Fr. Mckee, Hanlon and Billington”, who come to visit new students to say mass. My mentor told me that these were the stubborn bullies who came at night to cane the new students. He assured me that he would protect me from them. Time went on, and in a very short yet long time, the term ended, and we broke off for the holidays. The stories I told at home were just enough to make even the most pessimistic person envy me for being in Namilyango. The place was very good for me , and I really felt comfortable. But that was the proverbial sunshine before the storm. The truth was yet to come.

The second term started on a very good note, but somewhere in the middle, the bullies did it. One Wednesday, a senior two student from Hanlon house, Victor Rwomwiju (may his soul rest in peace), was badly injured when the senior four students attacked the house in a way of bullying the young ones. The only reason they had for doing this was that they were “relaxing in preparation for the mocks”. The small boy was take to hospital, and all the senior four students were interrogated. Information slowly came out, and the students responsible for this were identified. They were taken to police. On the following Friday, while at the football grounds, an impromptu assembly was called, and the Deputy Headmaster told us the sad news that the boy who had been take to hospital was dead. The whole school was visibly shaken. A dark cloud of silence enveloped the school.

The school chaplain, Fr. Botto asked he senior ones for suggestions and proposals on how to end the phenomenon of teasing. Many students made interesting proposals, some of them practicable and others simply impracticable. However, the one that featured prominently was that the students should be separated so that every class has its own house. The following term, when we came back from the holidays, this measure had been implemented, creating the concept of official and residential houses. With that problem solved once and for all, we concentrated on what brought us to the school. We read our books, and time was so friendly, for it was moving very fast.

It had been 1992, and in no time, it was suddenly 1995. The most cherished time for the senior four had come. We organised our social, had and put it behind our backs, in preparation for the final examination. But trust the students when they are faced with a crisis. The four years seemed to have been inadequate or them to prepare for the examinations, and Ongom (then secretary of UNEB) was not willing to postpone the papers and give the students enough time to re-organise themselves. But the student knew the trick. Cheat the exam, and beat them at their own game. And they did it. The men and women at UNEB were forced to put off the examinations due to “massive leakages.” When the exams finally came, atleast we were prepared for them, and it worked. Namilyango was placed 9th overall, most of us decided to come back to our school for our A’ level. Our year was a year of changes and surprises. First, we missed our return social because Gayaza did not have a main hall for hosting us. The time table was changed due to massive examination leakages, and then of course, the teasing business was stopped in Namilyango College.

It therefore goes without saying that we are a proud lot, proud of ourselves and of our school, and we hope the school will continue educating more people to the benefit of the nation. If there is anything that Namilyango has done for us, then it is the fact that it has taught us to grow up, and live as a community.

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MEET A KIPYA (NEW-COMER): THE A’ LEVEL EXPERIENCE

By Kawuma Lawrence

Life is not a bed of roses, and never judge a book by its cover, so the English adages go. If you have never had the chance to prove these adages wrong or right, then wait. The chance will knock at your door, if you ever get the golden chance of joining Namilyango College for your advanced level course. It happens everywhere, but the difference only exists in style and magnitude.

The life of a senior five student in Namilyango College, is funny, interesting and yet painful at the same time. Ask me, and I will tell you why.

The first day is not bad at all. In fact you will have sound sleep in the Hostel, and your first night will be one worthy remembering. Who hates sleeping on the first floor anyway? But that is just the proverbial sweetened bitter pill. The reality will dawn on you when the most familiar word you hear, becomes dreaded. And that word is “convoking”. You don’t have to wait for long to know what it means.

“Convoking” is the first word you hear every morning, and it is to tell you the time is six o’clock in the morning. That is the time you are supposed to enjoy the last bits of your sleep. Unfortunately, the word “convoking” does not tell you to enjoy your sleep. On the contrary, It means you should get out of your bed very fast, and get to the “freedom square.” Whether there is freedom there or not, should not bother you. You will find the answer shortly after the question has occurred to you.

You are now assembled in the freedom square ready for roll call. What follows next is the allocation of work. It includes cleaning the toilets, slashing around the hostel, Minderop House, washing the sinks, and scrubbing the floors in the bathrooms and laundry section. You must also pick all the rubbish around, regardless of who has thrown it there.

From that noble job, you are expected to prepare to go to the dinning hall for breakfast, and then proceed to the classroom. This is where the trouble lies. The young and old alike, will suddenly christen you names, some of which can make tears drop from your eyes like the rain does from the sky. Names like “wansolo”, “kipya” are just a sample. The stubborn young ones, otherwise known as ‘O’ levels, will describe and define you from head to toe, reminding you that you have a big head, bulging eyes, shapeless legs, and above all, tell you that you were a class mate to their fathers, and that you used to torture their fathers while they were young. They say all this, just because you are unlucky to have a young sprouting beard. And trust these small boys, they derive a lot of pleasure in telling you more about yourself!

Back at the hostel after classes, you will find a notice on the board, a notice which will become very common as the days go by. Its message is simple and clear. “S.5’s, Report For Community Work After Classes. Dodge At Your Own Risk. Signed: Chief of Protocol.” Never wonder that only the S.5’s are the only part of the community. The undersigned is supposed to talk to the wansolo’s with an air of authority. He addresses you on your first day, and from then on, he becomes a familiar face around the S.5 students rooms, especially at dawn. While he addresses you, all must be seated and quiet. He will then read to you a list of rights which you are supposed to enjoy.

You have a right to waking up at six in the morning; a right to do community work; a right to no privileges in the dinning hall; a right to mchakamchaka ( some kind of physical exercises); and most importantly, a right to follow all rules and to obey authority. Any evidence of violations of these rights by you will earn you a slasher permanently in your hands.

If you are a ‘survivor’ (a student who was in Namilyango for O’ level), you even have a rougher time, because, a year ago, you were on the tops, and now these guys want to exact their pound of flesh. In the dinning hall, it is not any better. People just enjoy your presence around, tease you and call you names. When you see the “elders” enjoying the privileges in the dinning hall (not having to line for food, and getting the top layer), you can not help but feel jealous. But you remind yourself that even roosters were once eggs, and you wait for your days.

Unfortunately, the days do not move as fast as the thoughts and hopes. The whole term drags for as long as it lasts. Come the second term, which holds the solution to the ambitious ones. This is when you are expected to campaign to become “someone.” Both the competent and the incompetent, try their luck at becoming prefects and captains. Once you have acquired this title, then life can tend to be something nearer to a bed of roses. But this title is not all that easy to get. You must be “war” in class, and with a clean record, not tainted by any violation of your rights.

Some automatically qualify, while others are automatically disqualified. The unlucky ones try their chances at the clubs and societies, but these ones are not as prestigious as the captainship. They are more of consolations.

One good thing starts happening at this time. This is the fact that you begin to realise that you are growing old and mature in the school. You have some little authority, as you start rubbing shoulders with the “elders” in the numerous meetings and the hand over ceremonies. You start going out of school for official outings, either because you are in a certain position of responsibility, or because, somehow, you can influence the “computer” to ensure that your name is included on the list.

The unlucky ones who have walked back empty handed from the search for authority, have nothing to do but to wait and surprise their colleagues in the books. Meanwhile, as they wait for the battle of books, their consolation is that atleast they are in the same class with the powers that be. Who would hate being in the same class with the Headprefect? As for the elders, they are now harmless, because the mock examinations are in the offing, and they have better things to do than wake you up at six. They even go a mile further, and start waking themselves up, not at six, but even much earlier, courtesy of the mock examinations.

The term for merry making now comes. Any time from then, you will be the elders, since the ‘real’ elders are preparing for ‘campus’. They can now afford to share jokes with you, because, according to them, “you have now grown.” You receive files from them, they give you their notes, and assure you that come October, you will find them in Lumumba, or the defunct Northcote, if not in Medical School, or the faculties of Law, or Technology.

While you admire them for their ambitions, you seriously look forward to their departure, and when they finally leave, you take a long sigh, and thank your good Lord for having guided you through the life of a kipya. You then convince yourself that another leader and elder is in the making.

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THE NAMILYANGO COLLEGE JARGON

By Tefula Simon Peter, Kiyega Nelson, and Semwogerere Mathew

Anti- shower: A student who does not bathe.

Abortion Pill: Soya seeds that the students come with from home.

Biinu/ Chinu: The pair of shorts worn as uniform by O’level students.

Bob: To dodge classes or any other official school activity.

Bobist: One who dodges classes alot.

Buffalo: Making a mistake in spoken English.

Bugembe: A dis-used football field at the extreme southern end of the school. Black out: To get drunk. Badras/Tyres: Pancakes sold in the school canteen. Bunda: A bundle of money

Catar/Catalyst: Appetizer, prepared by the students and mixed with food to boost their appetite.

Carbon: Foul smell from the feet.

Cartoon: Small or little.

Chimney: A smoker.

Calyos: Packed food from home, normally brought on visitaion days.

Chachaisa: To threaten, or terrify, or to scare others, with intent to impress.

Daily bread: Posho and beans served in the dinning hall.

Dark Justice: A very black or dark person.

Defender: One who has a habit of delaying in the dinning hall after a meal. Driving / Overtaking: Jumping the queue in the dinning hall.

Dude: A handsome boy.

Export: To get food from the dinning hall and eat it from the dormitory. Extension: Reading beyond the official hours for night preps.

Fag: A cigarrete

Horses /Mbalaasi: Ugly girls.

Headex Super Cup: Someone with a very big head.

Hattans: Pit Latrines.

Jouve: Porridge

Jawed: Refused.

K.B.: Conversation, or chatting.

Kanga Bana: One who likes teasing children.A bully of some sorts.

Kasota: Prefects who are strict in enforcing the school rules.

Kavideo: One with a protruding forehead.

Kawusi /Kabwa: Being broke, or bankrupt, having no pocket money.

Kasoya: One who has large muscular legs.

Kiku: A student who does not bathe.

Kyalo: A student with ‘village’ behaviours, or queer habits.

Kyoya Man: A very hairy person.

Kizindalo: A big chapati. Lazzing: Relaxing, or resting.

Long Safe: Escape route where teachers are least expected.

Lukambwe: Tea / Coffee

Mbaawo: Fried Cassava chips sold in the canteen.

Mackomps: A mad, or confused person.

Mallos: Local beer made out of millet.

Meere: Dinning Hall Prefects.

Mirinda: A very brown person.

Moscow: To be discontinued from school on academic grounds.

Mudips: A person who is gentle and diplomatic.

Mukajanga: A bully

Mupya: A new student in the school.

Muwawa: Something boring, irrelevant or nonsensical.

Musujja: Poor marks in a test or an examination.

Munyigo: A slow song played in a dance.

Ndalu: Potatoes, prepared as a delicacy in the dinning hall.

Nigger: Someone who immitates the western culture.

Pull: Come here.

Permoi: Permission to go out of College.

Pingu: A short person.

Powerhouse: The dinning hall.

Road runner: A person who runs very fast.

Rocket: A cough usually accompanied by spatum.

Saasi: Cheating in an exam or test.

Seruganda: A student who likes, and is fluent in Luganda.

Survivor: A student who comes back for H.S.C in the College.

Segzy: Putting on a trouser, while balancing it on the buttocks level.

Sucrose: Sugar.

Shopping: Stealing.

Susu: Escaping out of school.

Striker: Someone who goes to the dinning hall before time for a meal.

Tapping: Begging from a colleague.

Tranzie: Transport.

T.N.T/Boom: A fat person.

Vibe: Interesting talk.

Vupe: Smart, elegent clothing.

Vuyard: Playing dirty tricks.

Wansolo: A new student, particularly a non survivor.

Winter: Reading at nght, beyond the normal reading time.

Wembley: The main sports field.

Wizzing: Missing.

Weevils: Students from SMACK.

Wallop: To beat.

Weapons: Spoons and folks.

Zoobs: Cigarretes.

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