Refusing sex cost student everything

Seventeen-year-old Precious Babirye once believed education was her ticket to a better life.

After years of dedication, she was set to complete her Senior Four exams at Kampala High School in 2024. But behind the classroom walls, her future was quietly being dismantled—not by poor performance or indiscipline, but by the abuse of power from a teacher she dared to reject.

“He turned the school into his throne,” Babirye says in a viral video that has sent shockwaves through Uganda’s education system.

“Every student entering Kampala High had to pass by him—he sat at the gate like a king, controlling everything.”

That “king,” she alleges, is Abdul Kimuli, a teacher at Kampala High School, and the man Precious says made her life unbearable for nearly two years. Her nightmare began in 2023, during her third term in Senior Three. Reeling from the recent death of her mother, she returned to school early to clear her fees with Kimuli— who was in charge of collecting them.

But instead of processing her payment, he allegedly lured her into the computer lab and made an advance.

“He started touching me,” she recalls, her voice trembling with memory. “He asked me to be in a relationship with him. I fought him off and escaped. That’s when everything changed.”

From that day, Babirye says, she became a target. She was humiliated, singled out, punished harshly, and often sent home for minor infractions, including delays in fee payments.

“I reported it to my sister. She told me to avoid him and just follow school rules,” she says. “But even then, he made sure I suffered.”

When Uganda Certificate of Education (UCE) exams began in late 2024, Babirye hoped the worst was behind her. But Kimuli was also the lead ICT teacher—responsible for supervising the very practical exam she had spent months preparing for. That’s where her ordeal reached a devastating peak.

“He didn’t give me a CD to burn my work on,” she explains.

“When the invigilator asked him, he finally gave one, but said if it didn’t work, and that that was not his problem.”

When she tried to print her work instead, Kimuli allegedly tore every page, claiming it had no name—even though, she insists, it did. She reported the incident to the chief invigilator immediately.

“Are teachers allowed to destroy Uneb examination material?” she asks in the video. “Why would a teacher sabotage a student like this?” When the results were released on February 11, 2025, her worst fear came true.

Her ICT paper was marked with an “X”—Uneb’s code for a missing paper or no submission.

“It was like a death sentence,” she says. “I had fought so hard to complete my exams, and then they claimed I wasn’t even there.”

Her lawyers, Rwabogo & Co. Advocates, sprang into action, sending letters to Kampala High School and Uneb. They attached her school ID, registration documents, and Uneb timetable to prove she sat for all subjects—including ICT. Uneb responded, saying her case was under review.

A week before Term One of 2025 closed, the board quietly corrected the error. But the damage had already been done. Instead of the top mark she hoped for, she was awarded a D. “By the time they fixed it, the term was over.

My classmates had moved on. I was left behind,” she says. For Babirye, this wasn’t just about a grade—it was about justice.

“This was a calculated move by an adult who wanted to punish me for refusing him,” she says. The ministry of Education has since confirmed that an investigation is underway. Dr. Dennis Mugimba, the ministry’s spokesperson, told The Observer that the matter is being handled by the Director of the Education Service Commission.

“If the accused is found guilty, he will be dealt with according to the law,” he said. In documents seen by The Observer, Babirye’s legal team has continued to pursue accountability. Their March 2025 letter to Kampala High School highlighted not only the exam sabotage, but a culture of intimidation.

“The head teacher has already submitted a query to UNEB,” the examination body acknowledged.

“Findings will be communicated once complete.” But for Babirye, even the promise of justice cannot undo the months of trauma, the lost academic ground, or the pain of being betrayed by someone meant to guide her.

“I gave that school four years of my life,” she says. “All I asked was to be treated fairly. Instead, I was punished for saying no.”

Her story has ignited outrage across the country, sparking urgent calls for reform and accountability within Uganda’s schools. As the investigation unfolds, she waits—scarred, but unbroken.

“I may have lost time, but I haven’t lost my voice,” she says. “And I will keep speaking until someone listens.”

THE BROADER ISSUE: POWER, SILENCE, AND ABUSE

Babirye’s story is not isolated. It highlights an ugly undercurrent in some Ugandan schools—where predators exploit their authority and students are left to suffer in silence. In this case, a girl who had endured the loss of her mother, worked through grief, and trusted the system, was failed at every turn.

When asked what she hopes to achieve by speaking out, she responds with clarity and strength: “I want justice. Not just for me, but for every girl who has ever been silenced, dismissed, or punished for standing up for herself.”

Her lawyers are continuing to press for disciplinary action against the teacher and greater scrutiny of Kampala High School’s handling of the case. They’re also calling for nationwide reforms in how schools manage cases of abuse and teacher misconduct.

A SHATTERED DREAM, BUT NOT A BROKEN SPIRIT

Babirye remains determined to return to school and continue her education, though the emotional cost has been immense.

“I won’t give up,” she says. “This pain will not define me.” In a country where girls’ education is constantly championed by government policy and international partners, the system must now ask itself: when girls are brave enough to speak, are we ready to listen—and protect them?

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