What school resumption means for a 25-year-old living with parents

After nearly two years of a Covid-19 forced schools' lockdown in Uganda, it was quite relieving for parents and students as the latter finally returned to school on January 10. Indeed, it was a long due decision that also stirred bitter-sweet sentiments for the rest of us.

Even before the motivational speakers crucify me- Yes! With many more others, I comprise those girls or even boys aged 25+ but still under their mother’s roof surviving on entry level salaries in Uganda’s ever shrinking job market space. Regardless, that's a story for another day.

A 25-year-old me has been groomed in a typical traditional setting that upholds seeking permissions before heading anywhere as well as submitting multiple explanations  over my whereabouts whenever I leave home. This sometimes translates to some kind of ‘domestic or household curfew.’

As the eldest of four, my mother's focus in the entirety of lockdown was centered on my three younger siblings, especially the youngest two who are in primary school.

This meant I was good to go for most of my plans especially those that anyone would relatively labor to explain to a moralist African parent. Indeed, I could freely move in and out of the house with my actions accorded less or no notice.  

Three weeks from the time President Museveni permitted a full reopening of the economy, I’ve sustainably not fallen prey to the social sloganeering urging a massive return to a fun-packed life.

With phrases such as “Tuli wawelu, Tuli outside", (loosely translated as we are released) still dominating Uganda’s traditional and new media space, the 8pm hour –just like a hen- for some reason finds me inside.

But why? A huge house once occupied by some six people is now a luxury for just the two of us, subsequently triggering an apparent sense of guilt if I ever considered finding preference in hanging out beyond a new self-imposed domestic curfew.

At the very apex of my contemporary ‘situation-ship’ is merit! My situation has instead allowed the two of us to bond deeply- of course sometimes with a minute for gossip and ‘catching up’ with the past while also attempting to predict a solution-based future.  

Meantime, a family reduced to just a pair has since been plunged into an environment where either party notices everything about the other.

On to the routine rides to work and back home alongside my mother three weeks after authorities in Uganda fully lifted lockdown. I’m accustomed to daily “your dress is too short or too tight" comments. Don't get me wrong, I particularly love these- the rides for they help cut unnecessary transport expenses in a city with high costs of living gravely affecting the 78% youth in Uganda’s over 46 million people-population.

I also love to have the nice pedi and manicure but I’m on constant lectures of caution regarding how I’ll do chores with such nails tradition associates with a person on intent to administer poison. In my defense, these nails can do just about anything but explain that to an African Christian mum, will you?

For now my real problem is excessive attention. See how most women love and might thrive on attention, well, not this kind. Needless to say, my situation-ship has some perks, I get to have my beautiful 50-year-old mother styling my hair which perhaps explains my impeccable hair appearance especially during the weekdays.  

And so, not to sound ungrateful, we appreciate schools' resumption but two years had us mentally and physically in different spaces than we are now. I guess we all just got too comfortable.

*Angela Luyiga is a communications practitioner with a passion for feminism and social justice