You went to a Ugandan university, so you surely know that random guy, or you have been one.
The one who’s always struggling with everything, who’s always stuck in a never-ending cycle of brokenness. He’s the one who’s always silently starving, thinking leero akakomando wagwan.
The one who’s always walking long distances in dusty Kampala–shinny sweaty face, in the blazing sun, just to catch a casual gig at Mukwano factory in Kibuli, only to be given the news to the effect that said gig has been taken, or that he doesn’t have the required experience, or any other nonsense they say just to make boychild feel worthless.
This guy is always looking head-to-toe shabby, with that signature he-goat stench, hence he’s always getting rejected by the girls, and is always wondering if he’ll ever find someone to love him for who he is, broke and all. He’s the one who’s always trying to hustle, always looking for ways to make a quick buck by selling off his stuff. He’s the one who’s always sleeping with one eye open–how can you sleep off on an empty grumbling stomach?
He’s the one who’s always wondering why it’s not his turn yet; always feeling left behind, feeling like he’s stuck, even academically–will I ever wear that gown? He’s the one who’s always holding on to hope, who’s always praying for a miracle, trying this and that. I have been that guy and more…
But if you’ve never been that kind of guy, don’t laugh him off as a campus joke. Because, hey, sometimes, being broke isn’t about missing out. Remember that Aladdin (2019) phrase by Genie, played by Will Smith; If you own nothing, act like you own everything? Now, that right there explains it, being broke might actually be the better kind of rich. Come to think of it: when you have nothing, you owe nothing; no favours, no nothing.
See, being a broke young man at campus comes with hidden advantages. I am being serious. When you have little, you naturally avoid those campus luxuries that often carry loaded kids away like tides.
You dodge the trap of impressing people you can’t afford to keep around. You stay far away from the toxic nightlife of the party–Kabalagala, Makerere Kikoni, Nankulabye, that notorious brothel in Busega (legends are chuckling), Gaetano Bar in Mbuya, Industrial area, Speke Bar and, I don’t want to mention this one, Burton Street.
Your brokenness accidentally protects you from buying… Sorry, that came too straight. But let me draw your attention to a random X post I came across recently.
So, we have three guys, Phil (@bamwinejnr), London Sam (@Logiesam4), and onlyme (@Joeonlyme, and they are having a conversation on an X post. It goes like this:
I am smh (shaking my head) at Joe’s dumb comment, but I am feeling Phil: Being broke, from where he is coming from, is like being a taxi kondakita on a no-money-day – Mama Naaki’s Kafunda works better for you in the stead of CJ’s.
When your wallet is light, you are naturally inoculated against the extravagant and often dangerous distractions that derail that Ugandan mind you have there. You simply cannot afford the ticket to the high-risk lifestyle, and that protects your health, freedom, and future. How does that sound as a deal?
You are automatically excluded from the pressure to attend those high-end parties in Naguru, Mestil Hotel, Speke Resort, or those luxurious boat cruises that campusers are rampantly doing lately. You end up using that money to buy a goat or two back home.
The high-stakes world of expensive marijuana, cocaine and ice; the excessive binge drinking, and the ocean of hook-up girls flooding Kampala; you cannot afford them. So, you keep a distance.
You avoid the financially-enabled traps of having multiple sex partners–maintaining just one girl on campus will suck you dry, so you cannot even dare plural.
Ever heard of the truth-or-dare house parties and sex orgies happening secretly around Kampala’s hidden spots? Or Sheila Gashumba’s Paradigm parties (where patrons party hard, if you know what I mean), and Abryanz’s brunch parties? Those will never see your dime if you are broke. You can’t even afford a boda-boda ride, you trek to campus like you invented feet.
You are free from the soul-crushing pressure to maintain a costly façade of Instagram luxury, such as buying random new stuff or taking pics in expensive places, just to impress your miserable 1K followers. Fake. Fake. Fake.
So by avoiding this financial and social vortex, you naturally channel your energy into high-return stuff that ensures your much-needed academic success, personal safety, and long-term growth. That’s why you are at school in the first place, right?
Being broke pushes you to prioritise needs over wants, master budgeting, and develop valuable survival DIY skills, turning you into a highly resourceful individual. Your choices keep you out of compromising situations in dangerous places; harm, debt, theft, and prison will never see you.
You are essentially trading a fleeting, expensive, and high-risk social life for a foundation of resourcefulness, discipline, and academic focus; that’s not being broke, it’s being rich in perspective and investing wisely in your own future. Understood? Good.
Back to the X conversation. From London’s viewpoint, however, being broke makes you vulnerable.
Your desires–the ones you cannot afford–if you can’t control them, drive your decisions. You become like Joe (see his comment). You are wont to compromise, even at the point of letting a big bum-bum-Mama use your body for intimacy, just to get what your peers make you jealous about.
Joe’s is the mindset that doesn’t care about the moral cost, as long as the dime is rolling and the wallet is fattening. To this young man, this isn’t exploitation, it’s potential sponsorship. Not a compromise, an upgrade. “If I can get help, even if it’s messy, I’m in.” It’s the ultimate “make it work, by any means” hustle code that many won’t admit aloud, but some quietly admire. Reeks of desperation.
So, where Do We Stand? If you’re a student reading this, economic hardship can force compromise, temptation dressed in luxury isn’t always as sweet as it seems, and awareness doesn’t cost a coin, but vulnerability does.
The Bigger Picture
While being broke might shield you from a lot of reckless behaviour, it might place you in a position where you might get sexually exploited as a young man.
Research supports this fear. A qualitative study titled “Narratives of transactional sex on a university campus” shows that many students, especially those from low socioeconomic backgrounds, are often coerced into transactional relationships in exchange for money or small gifts.
The same studies highlight significant risks: emotional stress, reduced academic performance, exposure to sexual violence, and, of course, that guy called HIV!
Campus “sponsor” relationships often involve power imbalances, where the wealthier party holds all the cards. That imbalance can easily shift from support to control. Picture a Mama, with itchy chlamydia and thigh stretch marks similar to the famous Kabale terraces, demanding you to go downtown on ha, because she covers your expenses. Unfortunately, such sexual exploitations and abuse are normalised under the guise of survival, and are often joked about.
So, what should be the escape route?
The Joes of this world must know that ‘free money’ tied to intimate favours almost always comes hidden with obligations–those rich Mamas can be something else, my guy. To help, universities should provide some small financial aid, scholarships, and counselling to reduce pressure on students; this isn’t something to wait for until we reach Uganda-Empya. It can be done now. Institutions must treat exploitative relationships as serious violations, not behind-closed-doors scandals. You can also write to us, and we’ll share your story.
