SCHOOL MEMORIES: The death of Mr Fido

I’m not one to point fingers. But I’m not going to attempt to be diplomatic in this story because a life was lost. And because a life was lost, someone must take the blame. That someone is Arlene Karungi. Well, she didn’t do the killing but she is the one who started a conspiracy theory that led to the death of Mr Fido.

I’m not one to point fingers. But I’m not going to attempt to be diplomatic in this story because a life was lost. And because a life was lost, someone must take the blame. That someone is Arlene Karungi. Well, she didn’t do the killing but she is the one who started a conspiracy theory that led to the death of Mr Fido.

Saturday night. 8pm. We were seated in the school chapel, listening to some girl testifying about the goodness of the Lord. She said that she had fasted and prayed for 30 days and that the Lord had spoken and assured her academic success in the final year exams. Everyone applauded.

I was confused. I had always thought that success could only be achieved through hard work but I guess that was because I didn’t have the mind of a ‘true Christian.’

And If I had had the mind of a true Christian, I wouldn’t have been seated in the school chapel, convinced that the girl was so hungry that she was bordering on insanity. I mean come on; she was starting to hear voices!

As I was pondering on these thoughts, Mr Fido walked through the door. He found a spot right in the middle of the aisle and sat down. Like all the times in the past, an usher, in this case Arlene Karungi, tried to send him away. Instead of running away, he stood up to her. He gnashed his teeth and he growled. Everyone gasped. Arlene fell unconscious.

Once she had been revived through prayer and some fresh air (I’m pretty sure it was the fresh air), Arlene interrupted the sermon with an urgent message from the Lord. “The spirit of the Lord says we need to pray. There is evil among us!” she cried out, pointing at Mr Fido.

She repeated this phrase jumping around, with sweat pouring down her face and tears rolling down her eyes. So people raised their voices, spoke in tongues, and banged chapel walls. Whenever they did this, I silently wondered if God had a hearing impairment.

In days to come, people had visions and dreamed about the evil that was in Mr Fido. At the sight of him, girls turned hysterical. And yet the school administration did nothing to remedy the situation. They told us to tone down our imaginations.

On the final day of examinations, Mr Fido sat at the entrance of the Main Hall and some of the enthusiastic Christians said that he was trying to make them fail their examinations.

So we joined forces with those gullible Christians (because it was exciting) and chased after Mr Fido with the intention of keeping him away from the school forever.

As he jumped over the fence, his gut was caught in barbed wire. We left him lying in a pool of blood, lifeless. After our examination, we went searching for his body but we didn’t find it.

On my way home the next day, as I munched on the roadside meet, the one they continuously told us not to eat, I wondered if it was Mr Fido’s meat I was guzzling. Some roadside meat vendors were fond of selling dog’s meat. Yes, Mr Fido was a dog — a dog that had wandered the school premises for years. 

I took another bite and I thought to myself; “If it is Mr Fido’s meat I’m eating, then at least his death was not in vain.”

 

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