Vienna Days: Nights of Laughter, Mornings on the Court

Nights of Laughter, Mornings on the Court

Alumni Nostalgia Series

By Hussein Salum (Class of 2020)

“It wasn’t just about the games or the jokes, it was about belonging. About knowing you were part of something that mattered.”

Editorial Note

In this installment of our Alumni Nostalgia Series, Hussein Salum (Class of 2020) takes us back to the laughter, rivalry, and late-night creativity that defined his years at Vienna College Namugongo. From spontaneous dorm films to unforgettable basketball battles, his story reminds us that legacy is often built in the unplanned moments those that teach us to dream, to grow, and to belong.

Hussein Salum 

It’s funny how the best memories don’t come from the big, planned events but from the small, quiet hours after everything else had settled. For us boys at Vienna, that time came after prep. The dorms would hum with low chatter; someone would start a story, another would interrupt with a joke, and soon laughter would echo down the corridor. Those late-night talks long after lights-out were where we really became brothers.

We didn’t need much to make the night memorable. One time, we ended up making an entire mini-movie in just a few hours. No script, no camera crew, just imagination, adrenaline, and the reckless creativity of youth.

The cast? A handful of us who couldn’t resist turning boredom into spectacle: our guild president then, Prosper Ssenyonya; Kevin Atukunda, Joel Obey, Agarapu, and me Prince Salum. Somehow, we managed to record the whole thing. I wish I still had the footage, but the memory alone is enough.

The plot was pure chaos in the best way. It started with a gang of hooligans robbing someone, who then reported the crime to the police. The twist came when the very people he sought help from turned out to be connected to the robbers themselves. What followed was a flurry of improvised drama, fake fights, and unfiltered laughter. It was unserious, over-the-top, and absolutely unforgettable.

Saturday mornings had their own rhythm. While most of the school still shook off sleep, the basketball court came alive. The ball hitting the ground was like a heartbeat. We’d play for hours, sometimes until breakfast was just a rumour. The games were fierce, filled with rivalries, cheers, and, occasionally, a few flared tempers. But whatever happened on court stayed on court.

Representing Vienna on the basketball team remains one of my proudest memories. There was something electrifying about wearing that jersey knowing you weren’t just playing for yourself but for everyone watching from the stands. Especially when we played at home. The crowd would erupt every time we scored; their energy carried us. Winning on our court, in front of our people, that was something special.

Our team back then had great chemistry. There was Jeremy Katende, Chimtai, Joel Agaba, Prince Salume, Kevin Atukunda, Gareth, Obejo, Owen, and Agaba Paul, a group that truly felt like family. Together, we fought our way to the finals, where we faced AgaKhan Highschool. We lost that match, and it stung deeply, but it was still one of the proudest runs we ever had. We left everything on the court.

One game in particular stands out the day we played BSK on home ground. It was one of those games where everything clicked. I played one of my best matches, but it wasn’t just about me everyone brought their best. The crowd, the noise, the adrenaline it all felt bigger than just a school game. That win, and that day, shaped so much of who I am now.

After Vienna, basketball didn’t leave me. It had already taken root. I went on to join a team in the National Basketball League of Uganda, where I still play today. Every time I step on the court, a part of Vienna comes with me: the discipline, the camaraderie, the joy of the game. That experience didn’t just teach me to play; it taught me to love the sport deeply.

But beyond the games and laughter, what I remember most is the community. Vienna is a really, really loving place. People genuinely care for one another. They want to see each other prosper to grow into better people. You can feel it in the hallways, in the dorms, even during those early morning assemblies when everyone was still half-asleep.

If I had to describe Vienna, I’d say it found the perfect balance between freedom and guidance. It gave you space to make choices to find yourself but also kept you grounded. It didn’t let you drift too far. In a way, Vienna prepared us for adulthood long before university ever could. You learned responsibility, but also trust. You learned that being in control of your own life didn’t mean being alone.

And the meals are unforgettable, chaotic meals. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner each had their own personality. Sometimes you laughed more than you ate, sometimes you just rushed through it to get to class or court. But those shared moments, crowded tables, the buzz of voices, the teasing, the noise was part of the heartbeat of school life.

If I could relive one day in Vienna, it would be a Saturday pick-up game. I’d want to be back on that court with my classmates and the older players, some of whom I once looked up to in awe. Back then, I wasn’t yet the player I hoped to be. I’d join in but mostly watch, soaking in the energy. I got better later in life, and sometimes I wish I could take that improved version of myself back there to play one last time, under the same sun, on the same court, with the same laughter ringing around me.

Those were the days when Vienna felt like the whole world. Looking back, it wasn’t just about the games or the jokes it was about belonging. About knowing you were part of something that mattered.