Vienna Days: When Vienna walked to Naalya.

 Vienna Days: When Vienna walked to Naalya.

By Arnold Richard Oluma Okodo (Class of 2007)

During my years at Vienna, from 2003 to 2007, there was a particular afternoon sometime around 2004 or 2005 that has never quite loosened its grip on my memory. It was the Sprite Basketball Tournament, and Vienna had advanced to what I now believe was the final. The game was to be played at St. Peter’s Secondary School, Naalya. Our opponents were Kabojja “the Bojjas” , our archrivals in ways that felt almost too intimate for comfort.

The rivalry was not accidental. Kabojja was, in many respects, our mirror. The fees were comparable especially once you converted Vienna dollars at the time and the lifestyles were strikingly similar. During school holidays, OBs and OGs from both schools often found themselves in the same spaces, trading jokes and insults with equal enthusiasm. Breakfast became shorthand for identity: buns at Kabojja, slices with Blue Band at Vienna. We believed, without hesitation, that our food menu was unmatched. Kabojja, perhaps sensing this imbalance, sought compensation elsewhere through sport. Football. Basketball. Rugby. Competition became their language of revenge.

On the morning of the game, the Vienna basketball team was transported to Naalya in the school coaster, a modest but ceremonial send-off. The rest of us were given a choice: anyone who wanted to support the team was free to go, but there would be no transport. We would have to walk.

What followed felt less like a decision than a release. Almost the entire school poured out through the gates and began the long walk to St. Peter’s, uniforms stretching into the distance, buoyed by anticipation. Many hoped to see Kabojja’s star player, known simply as “Garnett,” named for the NBA icon whose Kevin Garnett jersey he wore with ritual consistency.

By the time we arrived, the atmosphere had swollen into something electric. Even the warm-ups felt theatrical, improbably so, as though we had stumbled into a live NBA broadcast rather than a school tournament in Naalya. When the whistle blew, the noise was immediate and relentless, supporters shouting themselves hoarse every time possession changed.

The game was tight, physical, and unforgiving. And in the end, the moment belonged to Garnett. As I remember it, he scored the game-winning shot, sealing Kabojja’s victory by the slimmest of margins. The loss landed heavily but not destructively.

The walk back to Vienna was quieter, yet not defeated. There was disappointment, yes, but also conviction. We had seen enough to believe this was not the end of the story.

That belief proved correct. When the next fixture came,this time on our home court at Vienna; the outcome was decisive. We faced Kabojja again and dominated without ambiguity or mercy. The rivalry was, at least for that evening, settled. The school buzzed long after sunset, sustained by vindication and noise and joy.

Looking back now, the lesson feels almost disarmingly clear. Rivalry should never be a matter of life and death. A loss today does not foreclose tomorrow. What mattered most was the collective belief that quiet, stubborn certainty that another chance would come, and that when it did, we would be ready.

Even now, years later, the memory returns unexpectedly. All it takes is the hiss of a Sprite bottle opening, and I am back there; walking miles for a game, learning how defeat can sharpen hope, and watching a school discover the power of believing together.

With this I appreciate the wonderful opportunity given to me by my wonderful parents The Late Rtd Hon Lt.Jones Echeru Oluma (Former Iteso Cultural Union Deputy Prime minister) and The Late Mrs Victoria Patricia Omari Oluma for without them,i wouldn't be the person I am today.