HIGH SCHOOL DIARY.

Life as a Kakungulian.
MUSOKE MUBARAK Ssug

PREFACE.
High school diary is based on my life experience at Kakungulu Memorial School Kibuli. The idea of writing this was due of how much I wanted to express my school life to all my friends within the country and abroad. Whenever I felt lonely and free I wrote what I had experienced in the day in my diary as a new student and later as an old student. The names mentioned in this story are my favorite names but not the names of the person I am talking about. A few full names of people for example Musoke Mubarak do exist. In my writing, I was not aiming at insulting or attacking any one, I was writing the truth of it. I am sorry for any bad language used. I hope you will understand the idea after reading.

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Author. Musoke Mubarak

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ACKNOWLEDGMENT.
With great pleasure I dedicate this story to my family most especially My grand mother, my guardian Mbabazi Wahida, Marc Bernard, my former head teacher Kasese Muslim Secondary school Shk. Nasib Musenene Swaib, my former Boss Zebra Collection Mr. Egesa Andrew, My current boss Bulkons Technologies Mr. Bazareh Jonah, Working staff Bulkons

Technologies, all those that I call my friends, old boys and girls Kasese Muslim Secondary school academic year 2009. I love you all.

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Author. Musoke Mubarak

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Chapter I: PILOT.
Hi, allow me to first clear my throat before I narrate to you the whole life experience. Well starting with the formalities, my names are Musoke Mubarak. As I write this, I am a student of Kakungulu Memorial School Kibuli. I am in Advanced level (high school senior) in senior five arts. My subject combination is HEI/K (History, Entrepreneurship, Islam/Kiswahili). The idea of expressing my self through writing began some times back when I had a dream of becoming a journalist in Olevel (Junior School) Senior one. Life is along journey, as I write this now, my dream is to become a computer genius. Oh! I am going off topic, any way my first writing was Nelia and I a love story basing on a true story. That was when I was in senior three. Having had such a back ground in writing, I felt it vital to write about my life in Kakungulu, I would not seating back and relax. Since I was new, I expected a lot to change in my life, I expected to get exposed to new environment, new student and new teachers, even the culture. All this was not to be an easy task. Beginning on how every thing started up to when I received my admission letter to Kakungulu Memorial School is not a good idea. Starting from that time I stepped in school till when I stepped out the school gate at the end of term is good to start with. Ok, here I go, the all waited time reached when I had to drive to school with mama. The last rains had calmed the dust and the grasses along road sides. In the water gullies the running water still flooded, and potholes full of water. As I was approaching school, the sun lay on the grass. Reaching the school gate, we stopped waiting for the gate man to open the gate.

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The upper part of the gate is made of iron bars making it easy for you to see inside the school. A side the gate was a big word KAKUNGULU MEMORIAL SCHOOL KIBULI in a green color with a white back ground. The gate opened half way, there came out this man dressed in green throughout, with a stick in his hand. I sensed he was the Askari (gate man). He approached the car, peeped inside and asked the driver to open the car boot. The boot contained my metallic box case, a mattress, a jerrycan and a basin. After the check, he had to wide open the gate allowing us to enter. Checking the boot was because of security reasons. This was because of the 11/7 attack in Kampala at Nalugogo. As we drove in, on my left was a big building, t was a block of four flats. On its basement and balcony there were students awaiting to go home. The time was 16:52 Hours. A head of the vehicle there was a bungalow. This was the administration block. We had to park. I and mama got out of the car plus the driver. He gave me a hand in getting my luggage out of the car boot. A few minutes there came a teacher who had to check my case if I had came with the necessary school requirements. After I and mama headed to the bursars office for registration and clearance. After clearing in the bursars office, I was taken to the dormitories where I had to be sleeping. I was assisted by a satin boy by the names of Kaja Chrispas to take my stuff to the dormitories. I came back to say good bye to Mama. Now I was a Kakungulian (Kakungulu student). Back to the dormitories I was supposed to introduce my self so that I should get to know these dudes I found in the Dom. This was the hardest part but a must.

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Chapter II: DOMITORIES.

Cubes were the thing contrary to the bus dormitories initiated by traditional schools. These were in 3D. The school brought the whole new definition of phrase accommodation in school each with a maximum peak of 12 students. Though there existed bus dormitories. These were for Olevel students. They were at a distance from A level dormitories. As I had came late, there were only two beds not occupied, I occupied that which I felt was more convenient. My words were few even after the introductions. Hours past days and weeks went by and month now counted how old I was in school. The dormitories that seemed cool at first, later were now nagging me because of the residents. These were the homies now. In schools there will always be that annoying-nagging girl or boy who pretends to know every thing even when they are green as a golf course. They will even argue about things they have no clue about and they never give others a chance to give their opinion, worse still they never want to be corrected. It was a usual act of my homies to argue on every dead they came across. I think this was a mutual habit implanted in them. When it came to this part, it bothered me a lot, I could not get sleep in my earlier days but with time I was used to it, and let me say that too I joined them some times. The most interesting part was when they talked licit on any one. The common victim of this was Kamwada Umaru and some time Basoga and the Gisu tribe members. For example, they used to say that on prefect campaigns, Kamwada killed a lot of buffalos (making mistakes in English while speaking) as a healthy prefect. On introducing himself, he was quoted saying My name was Kamwada Umaru Students yelled at him What about now! I am still Kamwada Umaru he replied.

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Among others, like I will construction for you a hospital as he was lobbing for votes. My second point is ummm this one was crossed out meaning the secretary crossed the point so he had to say it that the point was crossed out. These deceit stories always made me laugh loud. When it came to beggars, we had real and genuine beggars; these knew the whole definition of begging. They brought drama from theatres to the cubes of Kakungulu. These were students who came from their homes being advised to be parasites to other students. I dont know if you have ever came across such people of this sort, but I have and frankly I have had it. The other day as I was seated on my bed, my mouth watering and eagerly waiting for the first bite into a yummy burger in my hands. I was brought to a standstill by this strong pat on my back by a student. Believe me when some one gets me unaware in such a manner any one around gets to witness the heart attack choruses in me. Now I did not know what to make of this, I knew it the student wanted a bite on the burger I was holding. Without delay I had to give him the burger. At least each day passed one was bond to come face to face asking me of anything. Worst of all was when one could come to me asking for sugar, washing soap and deodorants. I guess if we were allowed salt, one would even beg for salt. What came to my wonder was that, students who begged for all these had theirs kept. They waited for others sugar, soap et cetra to get finished and get out theirs in a dangerous time. Even those they called sons of rich men like Hamid Mutasa son to Mutasa Kafero was a habitual beggar and very greedy. They say in life it pays to have friends from all walks and I must say I am grateful for all different friends that I have kept and I keep making. If it werent some of them perhaps I mayt never have had courage to walk through some areas and make new discoveries.

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For a very long time I have found dormitories a hard place to access comfortably. Now please you can think of any dormitory you have ever been to. Without wasting time, I am referring to all those dormitories with crazy kids and bad acts. They have one posing a lot of questions before they attempt to go there, questions like will I find a safe and good bed, and wont some one break through my box case? Will I have strength and patience to stand all those?

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Chapter III: CANTEEN.

I would call them Nakumat Uchumi, Game or any big supermarket and Takeaway you know of. These have a variety of eats and drinks and any thing a student would need to consume. For any teenager with a heavy wallet, when it was break time, swell mode is switched on, swag turned on, floss flipped on and wallets unzipped. Reach out the slot of the counter and let your money confess to every one around you. Eats ranged from five hundred shillings to one thousand shillings. Bellow that you were buying water and bread. Sons to rich men, army officers, ministers, siblings to artists and VIPs consumed quality. These were named clergies. They could even spend ten thousand shillings at break time or decide to buy eats for every one around the canteen. Sons from third class families or I say peasantry families bought less according to their wallet. These were named peasants. I hated it when it came to break time. The clergies had a lot of show-off and floss; I was not used of search students. They opened their wallets wide for every one to see, I guess girls. They were extravagant that even when peasants came to buy, they would find little or nothing. The girls show-off was worse than for boys. They claimed to be coming from noble families. Personally I would not manage or even try to smell my wallet in such a horse race, unless I wanted to fall in KAWU (a slang given to bankrupt) for the next two weeks. My minimum expenditure was one thousand shillings at break time; one thousand shillings lunch time, five hundred shillings on evening tea, five hundred shillings on morning tea and five hundred shillings for any other business. Totaling to a maximum expenditure of three thousand five hundred shillings a day.

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Chapter IV: BABES.

This could never skip my mind. I mean who the hell do most teenagers swell for? The babes. Kakungulu babes are high. That is confirmed, whats more? The long hair spiced up and of course with a scoop of floss. Actually most of the time you will find them in swell mode. Weekends have been declared beauty and fashion days. Female students dress to kill. Oh! here comes this story. It once happens that am standing down stairs, there came down this girl. From her waist to down she was promising. Her skirt feet her like the hide of a lioness gliding over soft hips as she walked down the stairs. I was immediately swept off my feet no feeling left in me except that of launching a Messi like counter attack which never fails to miss the goal. Iraq was never hit so hard like I was hit by her beauty. The stories of boys in my dormitory about their girlfriends, how much they praised them and how much they asked me to get one of the babes in school crossed my mind. This was not my idea; I was already engaged to my heart and made a promise to it. To most of us young people, having a relationship in high school is some thing we take for granted. We dont really know what love is. My theory of dating is about having intention of marriage. If not. You are acting like a child who plays with a new toy and then discards it. If I am to date, I have to date a person who really means some thing to me and I feel my future together has potential. I have to care about some one but not just the idea of dating. Back in Olevel, my English teacher, Madam Marion used to tell us that we dont know what love is and we were still fantasizing. I guess she was right. There were times while in class when I could recall a movie I had watched the previous night.
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How James Bond had kissed his girlfriend and the romance that followed. To make matters worse, my desk mate was a girl. She was called Rebecca. Rebecca was very pretty but there was no way I could have approached her to tell her I love you. I used to jealously watch as she wrote love notes to her boyfriends. I gave up on Rebecca because she was out of my league and I tried my best to hook up just one girl but could not make it. All my friends had girlfriends by then. One had four girlfriends in one class, what amazed me was that even though they knew about it they still loved him. He used to tell me that the right time would come and I would do what I wanted, girls are so many out there. However some times I used to doubt him, where are those other girls out there. I would ask my self. I thought the girls in my school were the right for me. I knew the right time would come when I am in Alevel, when girls would be in plenty and of a higher pay degree. While in Kakungulu nothing changed, it was now at this level that I had to concentrate much on my education since I was to join higher institution of learning. Its of recent that I realized what Madam Marion used to say was the damn truth.

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Author. Musoke Mubarak

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Chapter V: SOCIAL LIFE.

Friendship comes naturally by one rule, birds of the same feathers flies together. Where people are united by a common element like religion, goals, common origin, characteristics and interest. For as long as there is a model housing you as friends the superficial reason will never work. Friends are very important, I needed to evaluate what type of friends I was dying to have. At this stage I need to be strategic in choosing friends. I needed friends who would foster my academic goals not friends who would lead me to failure. My social life was complicated. I found students in Kakungulu different from what I had expected. Some of them were arrogant. I used to know that civilized people lived in towns, I guess I was wrong. I did not stress my self much to feet in my fellow students. It was not my idea to be like them. This forced me to run away from who I was. I lived life the way I felt I should. I was not afraid of not having friends. A few I had these were just a company. Najma Abdallah, Ogutu Denis both of these were Kenyans. We talked because we shared the same class, Kiswahili Class of which we were eight students. Kirunda Musa and Kabarole Isra were from Kasese too, but this never made them my friends. Acun Gillian was a friend to Najma Abdallah, that is why we talked. Seated alone in the gardens reading a history book, here came this girl, I had no idea who she was. Hey do you mind if I seat here she asked No I replied. Students knew me as some one who was not social at all. After she was like thanks, I am Sandra. I am Mubarak, I replied. She diverted me from reading and we had a talk. By the end of the period, we had known each other beyond names. We considered meeting but not occasionally. This act did not make Sandra my friend, but a company too.
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I felt better to have a study target with a reward if I achieved it. I was in Kakungulu for a reason and a season. I promised my self a happy life if I read all my books and passed end of term tests that were coming up a few months. Each time I thought of life after school, I wiped out my books and read as much as I could. I didnt have to cheat exams because it was an offence. In my former school, if you were caught cheating examinations you would either be indefinitely suspended or made to go down a class. I didnt know how it was done at Kakungulu, but all in all I had to work hard and earn it. My ambitions took a load off me; I did not have to gaze blankly at a teacher during lessons or wondering when a teacher would be done.

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Chapter VI: ABNORMALITIES.

In every society, there must exist some abnormalities of any order. On Idd day, it happens we are in the DH (dining hall) for our lunch meals. Meat is delicious on a bone. Though shall not fight with the bone, some people like to wrestle with the bones. While there is nothing wrong with it, you have to take into consideration the environment you are in. To see peoples rate of civilization, find them eating. The eating habit counts a lot. In this case one student fought with the bone and in the process not only managed to soil half of his face he also soiled his shirt and trouser. I say misfortune for the time we were done with lunch. The dining hall looked like it had just played a host to all the kids going to kindergarten. There was food scattered all over the floor. Though shall not spit bones onto the floor regardless of what you are eating you do not have to spit your bones onto the floor. Bones of any thing should be discharged onto a side plate or to the side of your plate. I knew that a student teacher love relationships only existed in third world schools. But to my wonder girls in Kakungulu were good at this. No reason whether for marks/grades or any help is good enough to justify this. What girls forget is that eighty five percent of these teachers are married or in a stable relationship with other people outside. This act always comes to my wonder. Some times its done by teachers and some times girls, even boys too tend to go in for the madams. Wiping student in high school was declared illegal. At Kakungulu students are canned. On the admission form, a student signs for a maximum of five canes for any offence committed. Olevel students are the most victims or this, each day passed I heard canning sounds, to take a look on was an Olevel student being laid down.

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Chapter VII: MERITES

There are many things that make me dig Kakungulu. One of this is the academic performance. It has a record in academic Excellency in the country. The school has well qualified teachers. At Kakungulu anything to do with academics, no jocks. Coming to entertainment, here honestly I dont know about yours, but at my school its a whole new concept of cinema advance. The multi-purpose hall is the main venue. Seat tight in your seat and let the entertainment prefect throw in one of those latest movies and let the projector confess the content. Entertainment is scheduled of weekends only. I cant forget the booth. Kind of funny I know, but hey our booth are not just any kind you will find. I am talking about a cross breed of phone and the traditional booth. Students purchase their calling cards from MTN mobile network which can save messages and contacts. Its almost like owning a phone in school but in an illegal polite way. You can also facebook with it for free, woo. Just kidding. Parties and dances. My tongue is running out of raw-power to blow this out. Ok we have welcome parties, anniversaries, bull roasting, dancing competitions, sports and leavers parties plus hand over parties for prefects. The venue is so fabulous mainly at the leavers dinner. Lights allover tables with a tight blend of colors and some times aced with the glow of fireworks, God! Isnt that enough.

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Chapter VIII: THE REIGN OF TERROR.

Though there existed moments of happiness, joy and smiles. There existed too moments of fear, panic and mistrust. I call this the reign of terror in Kakungulu. This started on 16th December 2010 to 15th November 2010. Dont compare this with the reign of terror in France from 1792 to 1794. Diarrhea, death and examination fever surfaced in school. Diarrhea was on a wide spread in the school due to shortage of water supply. Many students were admitted at Kibuli Hospital. We lost a dear student in senior six, Kalule Ibrahim, may his soul rest in peace. Outside the school gates, student lost there parents. End of term exams created panic in us, we expected elimination to those who failed or scored bellow the average points. All these created fear, panic and mistrust. Students lost hope as no one had a remedy to what was happening. We just waited for the day we leave back home.

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Chapter IX: MEMORIES.

There are memories which I will live to remember both good and bad. Life in Kakungulu was like a journey of expedition. 19th of November 2010 is the day I will not forget. This was when Elohim Child Development association visited our school. This is an orphanage association. It looks after orphans, provides them with education, medical care, and shelter. The children under this orphanage performed to us traditional dances like Bakasimba of Baganda tribe, Entogoro of Banyoro and Orunyege for Banyankole. They also modeled for us. They played traditional music from drums and other instruments I cant name in English. They had costumes designed in our school uniform colors both for Olevel and Alevel. This was impressive. I wish I had a camera and take some pictures. After their performances, we made some offertories for the well fair of the fellow African child. In Arab Swahili language I would say Sadaq. Each student gave in according to his ability and what he/she had at the time. I gave sadaq of half bar of washing soap, bathing soap which I only had. By then I was out of sugar. Plus a cup and a white T-shirt for any child to ware. I had no money as I was in total kawu (bankrupt) so that is what I managed to give for sadaq. This was not the first time for this association to visit Kakungulu I was told. They visited the school at every end of the term. I guess I should be well prepared for them next term. If God wishes. For a few bad memories, these are days I was totally in kawu. This was towards end of term. The end of October and November up to 25th. This was hell to me. No mula (Money) to spend. I lived a bad life. I used to forego morning tea since I lacked sugar, I forgot going to the canteens and evening tea plus changing meals at lunch or supper time.

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I only fed on Posho (con flour) and beans. Begging was not my profession to survive on, I was not ready for the embarrassments. 18th of November 2010 is another day a Kakungulian will never forget. The day when we were made to re-do some end of term exams having done end of term examinations. They called this re-take. This was because; the school wouldnt allow us to go home. Three weeks were remaining to getting our report cards. To make us remain busy in school, re-take exams was the only way. Lastly, the death of Kalule Ibrahim still haunts my memory. He died of diarrhea, this was because the school at first dint care about it, until his death its when they devised means stop the spread of the epidemic.

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