A Kabinja homecoming
It is a well-accepted fact that children who go to boarding school early in their lives and spend most of their lives as boarders, do not grow up with their families. Of the 12 months in a year, they spend nine of them at school, and only three months with their families. So, they grow up at school, which in effect becomes another home.
Melanie Bishanga, Primary Two, plays the ‘amadina’ during celebrations of the 68th Pioneers Day at Budo Junior primary school. (Credit: Kalungi Kabuye)
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WHAT’S UP!
Last week I wrote about how it did not feel like going home when we walked with Jackie Asiimwe through Makerere University, where we once lived as neighbours. Last weekend, I had another homecoming, this time back to the primary school I first went to as a five-year-old.
It is a well-accepted fact that children who go to boarding school early in their lives and spend most of their lives as boarders, do not grow up with their families. Of the 12 months in a year, they spend nine of them at school, and only three months with their families. So, they grow up at school, which in effect becomes another home.
On July 4, when US President Donald Trump was extending his particular type of corruption to the football World Cup, we went to Budo Junior School to celebrate the 68th Pioneers Day.
In 1943, it was decided that the primary section of King’s College Budo should, ‘in the best interests of development’, move to a separate site. Following the example of his father, Ssekabaka Chwa II, who donated land for the senior school; the then Kabaka, Edward Mutesa II, donated 30 acres of land in the village known as Kabinja, about 3km from Budo.
But it would be another 15 years before the actual move happened, on June 30, 1958, which would henceforth be observed as Founders Day, later renamed Pioneers Day. That first batch of students are called Pioneers, but sadly most of them are no longer with us. To my knowledge, only William Kalema is still with us.
Everything seemed to have shrunk while I was away. The hall that used to hold the whole school during assemblies and weekend entertainment, and which turned into a chapel on Sundays, now seemed awfully tiny. I had to bend my head to enter the last dormitory I slept in, Semugooma; and almost could not recognise my corner, as an extension had been built, and in any case the place was full of triple-deckers.
The headmaster’s house, which seemed like a castle to us, was now just a small two-bedroomed house. But I liked that the school was still neat and tidy, as were the pupils and their dormitories, and nobody still walked on the grass.
We did not get a chance to tour the school that time, but this time we made sure we did. And it was additionally special that I was accompanied by two classmates I had first met when we reported to Primary One all those years ago.
From that day, now lost in the mists of time and fading memories, I would share classes with Ruth Nalumaga and Stella Nakitooke (among others) for the next 13 years. Unfortunately, they were the only two who could make it, out of the several still living in Uganda. Semu Nsibirwa, Gertrude Nakibengo and Faridah Kasujja couldn’t make it.
Like I explained, attending boarding school means your schoolmates are the ones you grow up with, and become family. Although we would go our separate ways after Budo, walking together around Kabinja with Ruth and Stella really felt special.
Pioneers Day seemed to be better organised than Founders Day at Budo, or was it because it was much smaller?
The sound was much better, and you could actually hear what the speakers were saying. The speeches, too, seemed shorter and more precise. Even the fundraising for the school’s volleyball and tennis courts, which went on longer than planned, wasn’t as much a pain as those things are wont to be. And Stella and Ruth actually enjoyed the food served at lunch.
I’m always fascinated by the school band, seeing those very tiny people play those instruments is always a moment of wonder (we didn’t get a chance to learn any instruments till we went to ‘Budo ngulu’).
Last time it was a Primary Four boy playing a mean bass that stole the show, this time an even smaller girl blew everybody away with her prowess on the amadinda (xylophone).
One of the benefits of going to Budo is that the children get an all-round education, even when passing exams seemed to be all that mattered to others. So, it always warms one’s heart to see those small people excelling at more than just academics.
You never know, that small girl on the amadinda could grow up to be a concert pianist; and there would be no surprises if that other small girl conducting the school choir eventually worked her magic in the Royal Albert Hall. To top it all, the traffic back was kind to us. Thank you, for a great day.
You can follow Kalungi Kabuye on X: @KalungiKabuye