tasted alcohol and its most devastating effects on the very first day I tasted Pagee Wine from St. Mary’s Lacor in Gulu, Uganda, in 1998. Pagee Wine is a local wine made from pineapple. Even though that moment happened nearly 27 years ago, just the thought of walking back into that local drinking joint in Lacor and catching a sip of Pagee Wine still sends a wave of anxiety through me. Back then, secondary schools were a breeding ground for teenage experimentation with smoking and alcohol, a lot of it fueled by the pressure to fit in with the crowd.
How It All Began
I joined Bishop Angelo Negri College in 1998, a prestigious boarding school I had long admired. However, looking back, it’s clear that my time at Negri College could have easily been described as a jungle. The school was full of wild characters; some boys chased after girls, others escaped school to drink and dance, and a few were bookworms. We had a mix of wealthy students and those from humble backgrounds, and without full-time teachers, things often felt out of control. During my time in the school, all the teachers were part-timers, most of them working at other local schools like Sacred Heart Girls Secondary School and St. Joseph’s College Layibi.
It’s every parent’s nightmare to leave their child in a school where they’re essentially left to fend for themselves. And at Negri, that was precisely the situation. There was little oversight, resulting in a lot of mischief and poor decision-making.
The Fateful Day in Lacor
One afternoon, just before the second-term break, some friends and I decided to visit Lacor, a small trading centre west of Gulu City. Known for St. Mary’s Hospital Lacor. Everywhere you turn, you can find someone drinking or selling local alcohol.
When we arrived, our classmates were already in the thick of it, sipping local alcohol and wine. Joe and I were newcomers to the scene, and when we approached, one of the older boys, Orach Sofile, a much older classmate, warned us against joining them. He thought we were too naïve and feared that if we got drunk, we’d expose the rest of the boys to school. But with some convincing, we were allowed to join in. As teenagers, the pressure to fit in was all-consuming, and I wasn’t about to let anyone know I had never tried alcohol before.
The women who sold alcohol were always called by titles in Acholi, like “Min Abang” or “Min Acii,” meaning “mother of…” It’s a respectful tradition in Acholi culture. But there was an element of flirtation in these bars. Even though married, some of these women flirted openly with their customers, which struck me as odd as a teenager.
Joe and I decided to try Pagee Wine, a sweet local wine that seemed far less dangerous than the stronger, harsher local gin called Lujutu. Little did we know the sweetness of Pagee Wine would mask its potency. We both began drinking quickly, unaware of how much alcohol we were consuming. The more we sipped, the more we felt emboldened. Orach Sofile warned us we were overdoing it, but we shrugged him off. We were determined not to let him think we were weak. I even remember standing on one leg, stretching my arms sideways to show I still had my balance. Each time I stood on one leg and stretched out my arms without staggering, I would say, “Stamina hiko mingi sana,” a Swahili phrase meaning “My stamina is very strong.” It was my way of proving that I wasn’t drunk after all; if I could balance on one leg, I still had control. Other boys cheered on, and the party continued.
But when it was time to walk back to school, reality hit. We didn’t realize the full extent of our drunkenness until we started walking back to school. The road was about five kilometres, and suddenly, everything seemed out of proportion. Potholes on the road appeared like giant craters, and I needed help to keep walking. The boys, realizing Joe and I were too drunk to continue, made us stop near a church in the vicinity of the school, laying us down in the compound to wait until it got dark before making our way back to the school dormitory discreetly. We had to sneak back into school, but we were too drunk to do so discreetly. Our loud voices betrayed us, and many boys got to know that we were drunk.
I was barely conscious when we got back to the school. I don’t remember much from that night except waking up the following day with a pounding headache and my stomach growling with hunger. Classmates told me stories of how I talked a lot and kept speaking in the English language. I couldn’t believe what I’d done. The shame was overwhelming, and I swore I’d never let it happen again. A friend kept some food in the dormitory, but it was so bland and cold that I couldn’t eat.
To make matters worse, some boys couldn’t resist mocking Joe and me for getting drunk. Thankfully, the school closed for the holidays, so the attention faded. But the experience didn’t end there.
The Bribe
The Assistant Head Boy approached me when we returned for the next term. He knew about our drunken escapade and, in typical teenage fashion, demanded a bribe to keep the incident quiet. He demanded a bribe, threatening to report me to the school administration if I didn’t pay him off, which could have meant expulsion. I was terrified. I didn’t have the money, so I promised him I would pay once my mother visited during the visitation day. Each visitation day, I lied to him, claiming my mother hadn’t come. Eventually, after several weeks of pressure, he seemed to give up, realizing I wouldn’t comply.
Reflecting on the Past
Looking back, I realize how much it shaped who I am today. I made a mistake, but I learned from it. It taught me two important lessons: young people will make mistakes, and second chances are crucial. I could’ve been expelled, but instead, I was able to grow from my error. I don’t regret those mistakes because they taught me some valuable lessons.
As a parent now, I reflect on the importance of guiding our children through their own mistakes. We know they’ll stumble, but we also know that second chances are vital. I was fortunate enough to get a second chance after my misstep with alcohol, and that opportunity to learn from my mistakes has stayed with me. The world may change, but the lessons from our mistakes are timeless.
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