Some parts of our lives we want to bury and never face again. And yet, in those moments, it’s probably when we were defined and built.
“Campusers” – College kids in Uganda have reported to university for school. Moreover, the “freshers” are awed to be enjoying freedom for the first time. There are those who have come to Kampala for the first time, and they are wondering if they will get used to city life. Others are trying to make sense of the city way of life. But most importantly, there are those who have reported to school with only tuition, a mattress, and a bunch of bananas to keep them alive as they figure out how they will get their next meal.
Let me tell you a story that you may choose to believe or disregard. The year is 2019, and I am stuck at home wondering what’s next for me since I didn’t get a government scholarship at Makerere University, and all my applications to US colleges have been rejected. I am at home, probably babysitting my little brother, when someone texts me about two universities in Africa that were dishing out scholarships generously, like our African politicians release money when campaigning. One was Asheshi University in Ghana, and the other was African Leadership University in Rwanda.
I applied to both. Asheshi replied sooner with a rejection. By the way, I felt so dumb the day I read the rejection letter. I was like, “Wow. How dense (stupid) am I that I can’t even land an admission to an African University?”
Anyway, then came acceptance into the African Leadership University. In a couple of weeks, I was in Kigali, Rwanda, ready to study a course I barely even knew or understood, but because that’s the only way I was going to go to university. I will skip to the part of the story that I am focused on for now. There are thousands of stories I could tell about the pain I lived in, but I will tell you one at a time.
During COVID-19, all international students were dismissed back to their home countries. Midway through that dismal period, there was a conviction that COVID-19 had been contained; hence Rwanda lifting the lockdown on schools. We were required to return to campus. Moreover, the school, which was formerly located in a commercial building in Kigali Heights, had now relocated to its home in Bumbogo. So it was excited to have kids occupy its new home. I returned to Rwanda.
Grab a chair and popcorn. On the day I arrived, I didn’t have a house, nor a mattress, nor food. My previous housemates, who I had stayed with in Kacyiru near the Kigali Heights, had booked a fancier house in Bumbogo, which I couldn’t afford, hence sidelining me. If I told you that those roommates were all men and I was one girl, would you believe me? It’s a story for another time. Just know it was one Nigerian man and two Tanzanian men.
Anyway, since I couldn’t afford to level up to their expense, I spent the first day I arrived in Bumbogo looking for a house. I had 1 million UGX, which converts to peanuts in Rwandan Francs (392,553 RWF). We complain about Uganda, but as someone who has lived in different countries, I can assure you that with our weak currency, we have one of the best costs of living. The cost of living in Rwanda is HIGH!
Anyway, the late Patrick Karekezi helped me house hunt till late in the evening, and since I desperately needed a place to rest, I settled for a single room on the slopes of Bumbogo. It cost me roughly 100,000 RWF per month. That night, once again with the late Patrick’s help, he connected me to a gentleman who would give me a free mattress. But I had to go and pick it up. I was on a tight budget, so I couldn’t risk using a boda – what the Rwandans call moto. I walked for over twenty minutes at around 8:00 pm to the gentleman’s home, picked the mattress, and walked back carrying the mattress. For those who have been to Rwanda, you know how hilly it is. (Nods head before continuing to write).
So, house sorted, mattress sorted, food not sorted, but let’s first talk about the house.
THE HOUSE. It was a living room with a bedroom and a bathroom. The whole house smelled like cockroaches. Each morning I would have between 5 – 10 dead cockroaches to sweep out. The house was connected to a water supply (one tap in the bathroom), but water came once every two weeks, or, if not, only early in the morning. I had to wake up to fill my twenty-litre jerry can with water. As I showered, a cockroach would be threatening to fall on me from the improperly done ceiling. Meanwhile, at the same time my mind would be fixated on rationing the water. I would use like 5 liters to shower and flush the toilet. I had to use the bathroom at set times to avoid water usage. And when it rained, I would hear every drop on the iron sheets.
THE FOOD. I bought a small gas container, one saucepan, and a metallic cover. I didn’t cook meals throughout the week because I couldn’t afford to buy meals. I bought bread, Blue Band, and porridge. I would toast the bread using Blue Band and take it with my plain white porridge. The metallic cover was my frying pan. On weekends, I spoiled myself. I bought some potatoes and tomatoes and made some katogo.
THE TECH AND INTERNET. Despite returning to Rwanda, in-person classes took place for only a week, and the government stopped school again. We were channeled to online class once again but advised to stay within Rwanda as the possibility of returning to in-person classes lingered around. I had those old DELL Laptops. It was as heavy as five bricks. It buffered a page for almost 5 minutes. An assignment supposed to take me less than twenty minutes took me approximately 2 hours. I had to buy huge bundles of data because the machine used a lot of data.
At the time, no buses or taxis were coming to Uganda. Flights were also canceled, but that was none of my business. All the movement in and out of the country had been stopped to contain COVID. I remember desperately going to the Ugandan embassy in Rwanda and begging to be given a means of returning to Uganda. People, whatever you do, make sure you turn out rich or a somebody (for once let me use emojis in my article 😂😂😂🙂↔️🙂↔️🙂↔️). Indeed, omwolo tafumite lindazi (a broke person can’t eat a donut). I think the people at the embassy couldn’t believe a nobody came to plead for a means of transportation back to Uganda.
If you have read up to this point, then you will surely enjoy reading more stories from the writer of this article. She recently published a book, Once I Arrived. It is available in hard copy only in Uganda. You can buy a copy today. Reach out to 0759309215 (WhatsApp) or call 0787256738 to buy a copy of the book.
So there I was, stuck in a foreign country. One evening, the Nigerian guy (former housemate) invited me over to their new place. If my memory serves me right, he had prepared pasta mixed with small Nigerian fish. I ate like 3 platefuls. It was like a miracle to finally eat good, well-prepared food. I didn’t stay that night. I went back to my place. The next time I was invited, I carried two extra pairs of underwear, shirts, and a towel. The goal was to sleep on their couch for at least a week and take a break from my cockroach-breeding and smelling house.
Soon the Tanzanian guy grew tired of me, and we had the hard conversation. “When do you go back to your place?” I honestly don’t blame him. I wasn’t contributing anything to the house other than eating and washing dishes.
I took a hard pill and went back to my cockroach house. I won’t drag this story on, but I will let you know that I am addicted to running because it’s during this time that I started going for long runs. Maybe I hoped to run across the porous borders and end up in Uganda. Maybe it was a way to run away from the cockroach smell for at least some good hours. And even then, soon the government of Rwanda banned running as a measure to control the spread of COVID. I stubbornly continued running cos after all, I wasn’t running on the streets but deep in the hills. Until one evening, when police surrounded the area and arrested all the people who used to run in those hills. I survived the arrest. If you were arrested, you would be ferried to the National Stadium and sit in the stands the whole day. You would be spaced out so as not to talk to anyone.
I could go on and on, tell you stories of how I met a billionaire who offered me a job at his big restaurant/hotel/hospitality centre in Rwanda (I won’t mention the name) or tell you about how I still carried a huge smile on my face as if I was living the best time of my life or the nights I stayed up watching cockroaches have a night party on the ceiling and walls.
But I stop here to remind you that no situation is permanent. A couple of days ago, I woke up to a “fresher” texting me with lots of worries and concerns about where she could get food to eat. She only had a mattress and a hostel room. Her concerns were totally valid because, at that moment, you don’t see the way out. It looks like you are in a pit with no light coming in.
But I want to remind you that it’s okay to be vulnerable. Reach out to a few friends on the same campus. Tell them what you are going through. Some may make fun of your situation, and others may use it to make you feel less of a person. But in all this, at least a friend will promise you a meal or two per week.
Kampala is also one of the most industrious places I have lived in. You won’t earn money to make you a millionaire, but you can earn just what is enough to give you food. I sold second-hand clothes from Owino – a story for another day. I went to every volunteering opportunity I heard that they would give me transport or food. And when I was living in Lumumba, story for another day, I saw how the boys did it. They attended every party within a walkable radius. And when I talk of walkable radius, even 30-minute walks were nothing. As long as there was a party, Lumumba boys would shower (which they rarely did), dress up smartly, and head to the party for food. And for girls, there will be that man or a roster of men chasing you. I wasn’t one to have men after me, but I am confident that as long as you are “feminine” presenting, there will be that man chasing after you. It’s a sad reality, but he can be your livelihood in the meantime as you try to make a life.
I am not here to motivate you or tell you that what you are going through is nothing. I am just here to remind you that no situation is permanent, and if you keep your head up, surely something will work out for you. One of my favorite quotes this year so far is, “Surely a moving man will meet his fortune one day.” So don’t stop moving or think that your inadequacy today is the end of the world.
Since you read up to the end, you will enjoy more stories by the writer. The writer of this article recently published a book, Once I Arrived. It is available in hard copy only in Uganda. You can buy a copy today. Reach out to 0759309215 (WhatsApp) or call 0787256738 to buy a copy of the book.
