SMACK days

It has been about 30 years since I first set foot in St. Mary’s College Kisubi (SMACK). Looking back at that first week, it was an intimidating experience. SMACK was arguably the best boys' high school in Uganda at the time, renowned for academic excellence. The walls had a fresh coat of white and blue paint, the lawns were immaculate, and not a single window was broken. The students were well-spoken and smartly dressed. Every teacher who addressed us referred to us as "gentlemen" and informed us that we had joined the country's crème de la crème. We were expected to conduct ourselves impeccably to be worthy of that reputation.

I came from the more modest Shimoni Demonstration Primary School. I wondered if I would  make it. I was somewhat lucky—my older brother, Paul, a Form 4 prefect, had already paved the way. That year, 15 boys from Shimoni were admitted, including my closest friend, Edwin Muhumuza, the highest number at the time. Our Form 1 class had about 170 boys, divided into three streams of 55 each. In theory, I should have felt at home, but I was incredibly anxious.

As teenagers, we were all still trying to figure out our identities while earning the respect of our peers.

The Academic Pressure

SMACK selected boys with the highest grades from primary school. Once you got there, you quickly realized you were no longer a big fish in a small pond. Quite the opposite. There was immense pressure to perform. At the end of each term, a school assembly announced the top five and bottom five students. Those who failed to meet the standard at year-end were either forced to repeat or expelled altogether.

Our daily schedule was intense. At 5:30 AM, we were jolted awake by the resounding clang of the school bell, echoing through the dormitories. Morning preps ran from 6:00 AM to 6:45 AM, followed by classes from 8:00 AM to 4:30 PM, with breaks for tea and lunch. Evening preps ran from 6:30 PM to 7:15 PM and again from 8:00 PM to 10:00 PM. But the pressure to excel was so high that some boys studied well into the night or woke up as early as 3:00 AM.

Competition was stiff. Some boys even "forgot" to wake their friends after promising to do so, because, as they believed, "in order to succeed, others must fail."

Ironically, excelling with “minimum effort” was considered cool. If you were seen studying so hard, you risked being mocked—especially if your results didn’t reflect the effort.

"You guy, you read too much! Chill, we are all passing!" someone would tease—only to secretly pull an all-nighter themselves.

Winning Respect

While academics were king, there were other ways to earn respect:

• Sports: SMACK had one of the best rugby and basketball teams. Other sports included football, table tennis, lawn tennis, handball, volleyball, cricket, and chess (for the nerds). Athletes commanded respect. One of the most talented in our year was Danny (Daniel Birungi). He was always among the top five in class, won all the long-distance races, captained our house football team, and played basketball and rugby. There was simply nothing he couldn’t do.
• Leadership: Being a prefect could earn you respect.
• Dancing: Every year, we had the Mr. SMACK competition, where the best dancer won the coveted title.
• Smooth-talking with girls: Most Saturdays, girls' schools were invited for events. If you approached a girl everyone thought was out of their league, your friends hyped you up. But if she turned you down, those same friends were waiting to roast you:

"Who do you think you are? We were all chilling, and you decided to show us how it’s done?"

You’d become the joke of the day.

The highlight of the social calendar for O-Level students was Sosh (short for social), similar to prom. A-Level students had their version in Form 6.

Letters from girls' schools were delivered during prep. You earned props for receiving the most letters, especially if people believed you hadn’t written first. One classmate showed us a letter, covering the first paragraph where the girl thanked him for writing first. He only revealed the part where she said she missed him. Later, an aspiring detective managed to sneak into his desk and uncover the full letter. Our friend didn’t live to hear the last of it.

Some boys went to great lengths to impress girls—writing love letters on perfumed papers or hiring seasoned letter writers to ghostwrite their love letters, paying them with snacks to go with their tea or porridge.

The Rebels, the Saints, and the Carefree Boys

There were also those who gained respect in less conventional ways:

• The 'Bandis' (Bad Boys): These were the rebels—skipping morning preps, chopping classes, escaping to go clubbing, smoking, and sneaking off to the local bar, Mama Teo’s. One student even smuggled a pistol into school—his father was a soldier.
• The 'Holy Ones': Most served as altar boys and choir members during the Sunday Mass, as it was a Catholic school. But another batch, the savedees, viewed school events like Sosh and movie nights as ‘carnal temptations’ and avoided these events like the plague. They were well-versed in the Bible, though some had unique interpretations—one even believed God would sit his exam on his behalf and chose to sleep during the test. The results were, predictably, disastrous.
• The 'Serugis' (short for Seruganda): The realest boys, who spoke Luganda most of the time instead of English and seemed unbothered by school pressures.

Finding My Place

In my search for identity, I found myself taking on a couple of leadership roles, eventually becoming head prefect.

Now in our 40s, scattered across the world, I sometimes wonder: Have we lived up to the hopes we had back then? Have we made a difference, or have we simply adapted to the world around us?

As I reflect on those SMACK days, I realize that the friendships, challenges, and triumphs shaped who we are today. We have come a long way, but the memories and lessons remain etched in our hearts. And as our motto urges, we keep launching into the deep—DUC IN ALTUM!

Dedicated to my brothers, the SMACK class of 1995-2000, aka the Kiama.