The question I asked Patrick to explain in this chapter is, “Tell me about education in Uganda, and tell me your experiences with school.”
Patrick’s Response: Education is one of the greatest gifts an African parent can give their children. When you’re first sent to school, you are promised a lot of things and as you grow, you are told a lot of things. People will tell you that you can study now and sleep is for the future. Others say, when you study, you’re going to be rich. These are just motivational indicators.
African Education
The African Education is set on the lies that you’re gonna study and become a Doctor, or an Engineer. These have been seen for so long as the only ways for a successful education journey. I really wanted to be an engineer because I was given the ideas that it’s the way to success. For over 9 years, you spend it in rooms of over 100 kids, with different backgrounds and stories . Imagine all of them wanting to be something for themselves in the future.
Patrick – I Was a Smart Kid
My primary classmates can only remember one thing about me; “I was a smart kid. “ They really didn’t know that I was struggling with life, but yet performing well in class. A typical school day could start at 7am. Our school was a walk-able distance but we really had to wake up early and do some home chores before heading out to work. You could wake up at 6AM, go fetch water, wash utensils and maybe clean the house before heading out to school. Our uniforms were white short-sleeved shirts and short navy-blue shorts with white stockings. This was a very bad combination to a small poor boy like me who came from a very dirty environment. Getting this uniform at 50,000 Ugandan shillings was a tag of war for our mom. But we really managed to be in school.
Patrick’s School Journey
My school journey begins one day when a lady comes home and tells my mom of a school that is registering children for free and mom should take us there. My brother and I were taken in this school and we were registered. It was in a small place with about 5 rooms but accommodated more than 500 kids. You would find two classes fixed in just one room. I do not know what magic she used, but mom got us into school. I was straight away taken to primary one. I didn’t study kindergarten; I don’t know if it existed or maybe we didn’t have the money.
On my first day of school, I find this tall chocolate colored lady at the door. She looks down at me asks, “What is your name?”
“Tabule Patrick, teacher,” as I look away in a shy way. She looks at me and asks where I come from.
“I live at Kisenego,” I reply to her in a reduced voice. Kisenego is a slum where I have lived all my life. It covered over 2000 people in very small area. It was a place that was hated by those that were well off. This area had a history of Cholera – a disease that killed thousands of people. One of the major causes of the Cholera outbreak was sanitation. People in this area didn’t have toilets which made matters worse when it came to disposing of waste. Whoever came from this side was considered dirty, poor and less privileged. Chances are high that these were mostly true. The teacher allowed me to go sit with other kids. I didn’t have a uniform at that time and you could easily spot me out. We had two classes in one room with one teacher. She could teach one, as she tells the other class to keep quite and wait for their turn. That was some kind of creativity and stress.
I was a shy boy, with little or nothing to say. Worst part of it all was that it was easy to be picked out of the many kids. When the teacher wanted to ask something, her eyes could easily land on me. With time, I got used to the class but very quiet as always. The teacher could ask questions and I was very good at giving correct answers. Even when I missed school, the teacher could realize it more than anyone. One day I was sent home to bring money. 5,000 Ugandan shillings. That was a school contribution which could cater for porridge at school- studying without eating is another war to deal with. Mom didn’t really have the money, these are the times where you had to grow and stop being a kid and start being a man. We started out with collecting Dustin bin from people’s places so that we can get paid 100 shillings. Sometimes you could fetch water for people for a little pay. You could do this because you had hopes of saving and taking it to school. How long would it take you to save 5,000 and how much will you have missed at school. We didn’t really bother because we were still struggling with feeding at home. I remember staying home for one full month without going to school. My teacher realized and sent for me towards the end of the term. She wanted me to take exams. I later realized that she was the headmistress of the school, more so, the owner.
School Results
When I went to pick my result card, I was topping the class even after missing half of the term. My teacher looked at this and asked me about my life and my parents. I brought mom and she talked to the headmistress. This teacher then started helping me out with books, some little things needed at school and always encouraged me to work hard. When I messed up, she reminded me that they don’t spare the rod because it could spoil me. This teacher helped me till primary two and as the school grew, she got another teacher and she took on the administrative job. I passed my final exams as the top in primary two and was promoted to primary three. When you got this class, you could receive threats like, “This is the hardest class of all the primary level “. This is where you met the toughest teachers and you were introduced to new subjects. The most hated teacher at school that time was the Religious Education teacher. He was hated because he liked beating pupils so much. He could come in class and just ask, “If you have spoken vernacular this week, stand up.“ Vernacular was any unacceptable language at school. The most common one was ‘Luganda’ a local Ugandan language from Buganda kingdom. If you were found using it at school, you would be given a huge bone tied to your neck and told to move with it in everything you do at school, until you met someone who was speaking Vernacular. At every assembly, everyone who has worn the bone would be called up and punished. This teacher was hated because he used to hate this department and was good at the cains. Most times we could ask ourselves why a pastor would be willing to beat God’s children. I can’t forget the day he came in class and asked, “If you haven’t spoken Luganda this week, stand up.” Four boys stood up, he first punished these ones before getting down to the rest of the class. He just had this idea that no one could take a full week without speaking Luganda. But anyway, it was really hard not to speak that simple language. We always had to use English, but it was hard for us. If you wanted to hear the funniest English at school, you just had to look for a group of boys playing football. It had the funniest dialogues ever.
English is Funny and Challenging
This class was a funny one but challenging. It could help you get away from home suffering into trying to became someone. It was during this time that things at home became really hard. God remains always faithful and through his creation, he gives and provides. When feeding became hard, we had to find ways. There were some rich families that had big compounds near the lake shores. They had planted mango trees all over that area. They really didn’t bother when the mangoes are ripping. A group of families could go and collect these mangoes that ripe and fall off. Things got tough and we resorted to this time of survival. You had to wake up early in the morning , get a blank kaveera, or a bucket, and run to the shore to collect the ripe mangoes that had fallen off in the night. We could wake up at 4am in the morning so that you are the first, you didn’t have to miss out or else you would find people on their way coming back with smiling faces when you’re just going. Mom could wake you up at that time, so that you run and collect something for you to eat before going to school and through out the day. Sometimes food would really fail and these mangoes could cover up. We didn’t fear stepping on snakes or any sharp objects, our mind was just on getting mangoes and getting there first. Some days you may think that you’re the first only to find that there are a bunch of people there. Sometimes the owners of these mangoes would case you or arrest you and make you clean their compounds for encroaching. I used to get the mangoes, go home, wash them and prepare for school. Then you pack about two to eat for breakfast or lunch. Our mom couldn’t afford giving us breakfast, let along packing anything…
Patrick’s Mom – Raised Him and Sent Him to School
This lady (my birth mom’s neighbor) was married to a Polygamist. When I refer to my mom, this is the only mom I ever knew to be my mom. I didn’t even know I was not her birth child until I was 23 years old. My mom (who raised me) had a son and a daughter . The son was about five years of age. The lady carried her son Simon and I, and their daughter, and with her husband we left for Kampala- the capital city of Uganda. This was because rumors had gone around about the rebels approaching the village where we were staying. The husband had promised that they would be safe in Kampala and would have a better life there. Kampala was believed to a safe place . You would have money and a better life. You would get a job and enjoy life. Many people would sell their land in the villages and move to towns in the name of getting jobs and making money. Little did they know they would encounter difficulty. However, for us, my second family, the only family I ever knew, we were running for safety.
Finding Safety in a Slum
Because they had no place to stay, they stayed at a friend’s home before renting a house in Kawuku-a slum in Kampala . The husband got a mattress from his friend and they shared it with his wife. They got sacks and put some grass to act as soft places for the kids to sleep on. After some time , the husband got a job as a security guard and started working. He would go to work in the night and come back in the morning. He did some digging in the morning before heading to work. It was after a short time in the slum when the husband got really sick and spent the rest of his life in bed before dying. It was a time of hardship , a time of struggle, a time of a hurting, a time of accepting reality and life as it unfolds. Above all, it was a time of growing at an early age .
Growing Up at a Young Age
We had to grow at a young age. I must have been young but I reached a point where I wasn’t spaced. We had to grow and start supporting mom at home. Simon (my older brother, that I was raised with) resorted to doing work on sites . This second family become my home, and my everything . I got a second mom, a brother(Simon) and a sister (Beatrice). We were introduced to life the hard way. We didn’t have a happy childhood like some kids. Many kids in slums grow up this way ; single mothers , who are themselves very poor to take care of their children and in some cases, there are no parents at all and the kids have to manage the poor existence on their own. This is life in the Africa slums. You have a single meal per day and sometimes you go to bed with a cup of porridge or without a meal. When life hits hard, you must not lose hope. In the slums we grew up in, we didn’t have hope for us to lose it . How can you lose something you do not have? Much less when you cannot get it. Mom started brewing local alcohol, the only skill she had learnt in the village. She didn’t have any other choice but only this. She then applied for a job of sweeping the road. This was a job from the local leaders and mom wanted to make sure that we get what she didn’t get-Education. She would be paid Ugandan shillings (ugsh) 4000(about $1) per day and she did a lot of saving in order to make us join school.
Going to School
We went to Royal Junior Primary School, the only cheapest school in the neighborhood. The number of lessons we attended at school were countable. There wasn’t enough money to keep in school. We would always be sent home for fees and other scholastic materials. You could be sent home for only Ugsh.2,000 (which is less than a dollar) and we could take a month without getting that money or even miss out a whole term. A parent in a slum has two options , feeding a child or educating a child. It’s human to choose feeding.
Sent Home To Find School Fees
One day we were sent home for fees, but instead of going home, we promised we would look for that money on our own. We never wanted to worry mom, she was going through enough. We just looked for sacks and went to look for scrap. It’s what we could do best at that time. A kilogram would be bought at Ugsh. 50(0.014) and getting a kg was a hell of a job. Sometimes you ended up breaking into people’s gates and look for scrap. Not because it was the best thing to do, but because life had hit so hard. We did some good jobs and got some money, but unfortunately, when we reached home, we found mom very sick. We ended up using the money we got to buy medicine for mom. Sometimes I look at my life and imagine if I am watching a movie. How could things happen in such a way. One conflict after the other. But anyway, that was life. We could then stay home and look after her.
Rubbish Boys
Simon and I would go and collect people’s rubbish because we saw the scrap was a bad habit because mom never said stealing was a good etiquette. One day we made some money and bought mom mill, she was very happy and proud. Seeing her kids become hardworking brought tears of joy in her face. Milk wasn’t something we fancy at home because we couldn’t afford that. Mom’s sickness was becoming worse each day untill when someone recommended a pastor to pray for her. They come with a group of worshippers and they had a fellowship at home. This was the time mom gave her life to Christ and we did as well. We got more close to the church and got to know more about Jesus. Mom became better after sometime and could go to church for a women’s fellowship. She always sent us for choir practices at church every Saturday and would go with us to church on Sunday’s. We would be in the Sunday school. She stopped the brewing job and concentrated on sweeping the road. After school, we would go collect people’s rubbish to get money , either for school or feeding at home. Sometimes you could find break at the rubbish pits and end up eating it because your hungry. How healthy would that be. We got a title for doing our job . People called us “KASASIRO BOYS” which simply meant “RUBBISH BOYS”. We would be called that at school. They didn’t know that this was where we got a living . People really need to know what others go through to have a life. What felt like a joke to them, was the most important part of our life then. We got books and fees from that. As if that was not enough , we won ourselves another name “Abaana b’etoosi” meaning “children of Mud”
We got this after starting to plant rice for a rich man in the neighborhood. Rice would be planted in the swampy areas and we would go to school with dirty clothes and looking like hell.
