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The Curse of Eating School Fees and the Price of Misplaced Priorities: Kidega's Tragic Downfall

On 11 February 2024, the Uganda National Examinations Board (UNEB) released the 2024 Uganda Certificate of Education (UCE) results under the competency-based curriculum, sparking a wave of reactions across the country. The new system emphasizes skills, values, and real-life applications of knowledge, aiming to foster competencies like critical thinking, problem-solving, creativity, and communication. While this curriculum represents a shift from the old focus on rote memorization and theoretical knowledge, it left many reflecting on the past educational journey. On the eve of the results release, I spoke with an old friend whose younger brother, I assumed, had sat for the 2024 UCE exams. When I asked about his performance, I learned that the young man hadn't been in school for two years. My friend had been paying his fees, but two years ago, his brother had squandered his school fees on a reckless lifestyle, leading my friend to cut financial support. Now, the boy lived in the village, trapped in a life of misery. His story reminded me of a hauntingly similar tale of a boy named Kidega Samuel, whose tragic downfall remains a constant reminder of the consequences of misplaced priorities.

 

In 1998, I joined Bishop Angelo Negri College in Gulu, a prestigious all-boys Christian school known for its strict discipline and academic excellence. It was a place where competition was fierce, and every student in my class fought hard to rank among the top ten in a class of 43. Poor academic performance was not an option. If you performed poorly, fellow students would ridicule you. Among my classmates was Kidega, now late, a boy whose story would later serve as a haunting lesson about choices, discipline, and the weight of consequences.

 

The Beginning of the Fall

Kidega was not a dull student; he was average, and neither excelled nor struggled too much. He came from a humble farming family in Palenga in Gulu district, and his school fees was paid through his uncle's sweat and toil. At the time, Bishop Angelo Negri College school was considered an expensive school, with fees of around 145,000 Ugandan shillings per term, a significant amount by the standards of the late 1990s.

Like many of us, Kidega's parents entrusted him with his school fees, expecting him to pay it at the school with the Bursar. But in 1999, something changed. That term, Kidega chose a different path, one that led him far from the discipline of school and into a world of distractions.

Instead of paying his tuition, he used the money to fund a reckless lifestyle—clubbing, drinking, and impressing girls. He started hanging around with a group of boys who came from wealthy backgrounds and, as such, had to adapt their lifestyles—self-styled boys who imitated American hip-hop stars of the time. They sagged their jean trousers, wore oversized T-shirts and chains around their neck and rapped old-school hip-hop lyrics, mimicking the likes of Tupac and The Notorious B.I.G. To keep up with the partying lifestyles of these boys, Kidega hired a set of matching FILA-branded jean trousers, a jean shirt, and a hat. He also needed a girlfriend and one of the boys quickly introduced him to a lady nicknamed Chinese. She was a Christ the King Primary Teachers' College student in Gulu and considerably older than Kidega. Word around the school was that Chinese romantically pursued young boys, prompting some to call her a cougar, but this did not bother Kidega. She wasn't the prettiest girl in town, and we wondered what she did to Kidega that made him always want to spend time with her than in school. Spending most of his time with her seemed exciting, but Kidega did not realize he was gambling with his future.

 

A Desperate Attempt to Cheat Fate

As the term progressed, reality hit hard. Kidega's money was gone, and Chinese dumped him. His school fees were unpaid. And worse, his academics had taken a downturn. When mid-term exam time came, Kidega knew he was doomed. He had barely attended class and rarely attended night preps. This desperation caused Kidega to resort to a dangerous plan—cheating the exam.

On exam day, while everyone else placed their books at the front of the class per the teacher's instructions, Kidega had something else hidden—a small cheat sheet tucked inside his underwear. The mid-term exam was tough for everyone, but for Kidega, it was nearly impossible. His only chance was to retrieve his cheat sheet from his underwear unnoticed.

I was seated at a desk behind him, and I saw everything. There had been rumours before that Kidega always cheated on exams, and everyone in our class was keen to know how he would perform after spending weeks not attending class. At first, he hesitated, looking around nervously. But as time passed, he built the courage to pull out his cheat sheet and start copying.

I was torn. Do I report him or stay silent? Reporting him meant inviting trouble. Kidega was older, bigger, and could easily retaliate. So, instead, I called out loudly to the entire class, "Someone is cheating!" without mentioning his name. Suddenly, all eyes darted around the room, scanning for the culprit. Panic set in. Kidega froze. Then, an older student spotted him and shouted, "Kidega! Stop cheating!". His response was both hilarious and tragic. With a straight face, he fired back in our local language: "Peny eni mono peny pa meni?" loosely translated as, was the exam set by your mother? The entire class burst into loud laughter, but the damage was done. Kidega was having a rough time and had been exposed.

 

A Life Unraveling

The teacher was informed, and Kidega's exam was immediately nullified. Worse still, his unpaid tuition meant he was barred from sitting some end-of-term exams. Despite not sitting many exams, Kidega returned to school the following term. This time, a group of boys and Kidega escaped from school and went dancing at Alobo Night Club – a popular nightclub in Gulu City in northern Uganda at the time. Turns out that this was a terrible idea. They were caught as they sneaked back to school in the wee hours of the morning and suspended indefinitely. Their parents later intervened, and the school accepted them back under certain conditions.

When Kidega's uncle—who had been paying his fees—learned the truth about his suspension and unpaid school fees, he was furious. Feeling betrayed, he withdrew his financial support. Without tuition, Kidega was unable to return to school the following term. That was the last time I saw him.

 

The Tragic End

Years later, I heard the devastating news—Kidega had committed suicide. Life had taken an unexpected turn in the village after he dropped out of school. He reportedly found himself having a wife at a young age and babies, with no job or resources to take care of them. Life in the village must have hit him hard. It was shocking, yet looking back, the signs had been there all along. One reckless decision triggered a chain of events that spiralled out of control—losing his education, his future, and himself.

 

Lessons from Kidega's Story

When my close friend told me the story of his brother and how he ended up losing his education, I thought about Kidega. I thought about the curse of eating school fees money. Eating a small dime of school fees can set off a series of irreversible consequences. Kidega's choice to misuse his school fees led him down a dangerous path that ultimately cost him his future. The wrong company can mislead you, but the right friends can uplift and guide you. Nightlife, partying, and chasing trends may seem glamorous, but they can lead to destruction if not balanced with responsibility. Kidega's suicide reminds us that failure in one aspect of life is not the end. Seeking help, finding support, and learning from mistakes can turn things around.

 

Kidega's story is not unique. Some young people today fall into similar traps; misplaced priorities, bad influence, and unchecked emotions. But Kidega's story doesn't have to repeat itself. For every young person reading this, your choices shape your life. Make them wisely.

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