Hundreds of students camped outside the offices of the Students' Loan Bureau (SLB) offices in this file photo. - File

STACI-ANN regrets going to the Students' Loan Bureau for assistance to finance her tertiary education.

She claims her peace of mind has been disturbed since she graduated from the Northern Caribbean University (NCU) four years ago.

Financing her loan repayment and basic living expenses at the same time from the salary she earns was driving her to the cliff, Staci-Ann says.

"I was repaying my student's loan but I had to stop because I realised that it was ridiculous. I was paying them and I could not live," Staci-Ann tells The Sunday Gleaner.

The student-loan delinquent is a hybrid of frustration and desperation. Her voice cracked every decibel it rose as the sounds of the depressed woman filled the small Kingston apartment which she calls home.

"The worse thing I ever did in my life was to get a loan from the Students' Loan Bureau. It has been a nightmare," Staci-Ann tells The Sunday Gleaner.

One week ago, The Sunday Gleaner reported that more than 7,000 students owe the SLB over $760 million.

The story rubbed Staci-Ann's sensitive nerve and she did not hesitate to tell her story.

"You look around you at everyone failing and challenge yourself to do differently and so you end up making a deal with the devil. Sad. That is exactly how it feels after taking this loan," Staci-Ann said in her email to The Sunday Gleaner.

Her debt

The NCU graduate said she borrowed less than $500,000 from the SLB to pay her tuition fees at NCU, where she read for a bachelor's degree. When she graduated in 2004, the SLB wrote to her telling her that it was time to begin settling her account. Her debt with the bureau stood at nearly $800,000 and she was required to pay almost $30,000 per month for six years to clear her loan.

Last week, Staci-Ann's father received a letter from a collection and recovery service which warned him that should he fail to pay nearly $1.5 million within seven days the bureau would be taking action, including seizing his assets.

"I don't have any assets, all I have is my life. I would love to pay it but I don't have the money to pay. She is struggling too. Last Sunday, I called her in Kingston and she said 'Daddy, I don't even have dinner ...'."

He adds: "I love my children and she wanted to learn. It has been me alone; no mother; just me ... . I have stood up with her and now they want to hang me ... but I am not hiding and I am not running away," Staci-Ann's father says.

Staci-Ann tells The Sunday Gleaner that she made an attempt to pay the SBL but at great sacrifice. Then one day she gave up.

As anguish and despair rippled though her voice Staci-Ann related her life of challenges deep in Manchester and her continued fight for survival in the Corporate Area. She says that if the Bureau was structured in such a way to take into account her socio-economic conditions, and that of so many other delinquents, only then would the true story about non-payment of SLB loans be told.

"I am not looking for excuses but I wish those persons who say we are unwilling to make the sacrifices to pay back our student's loan could understand," Staci-Ann says.

Her story begins.

"Life was so bad. When I was younger, clothing was luxury, one I never got. My father was a carpenter, to this day I am still trying to find out why he did not build a proper house.

"I used to sleep on board, a bed with cloth on it ... there were no sheets," Staci-Ann said.

She tells The Sunday Gleaner that she would spend nights as a child crying and singing to herself on top of a rugged hill where her house rested.

"I have always wanted better and I thought education was my way out," Staci-Ann says.

She says that her father withdrew the last $30,000 from his account for her to start university. At NCU Staci-Ann said she took a job in custodial services to help her meet daily expenses. But it was always clear to her that the SLB would be her only option.

She tells The Sunday Gleaner that she tried her best at university and even though she did not graduate with honours she entered the working world with a sense of glee and hope.

"... I was wrong. I was naive to believe that I would get a degree, work and be able to honour my loan obligation and at the same time stay alive.

"When I started working, the SLB wanted almost $30,000 per month and that was virtually all my take-home pay. There were times when I paid the student loan and just cried because I could neither travel to work nor pay my rent. I could no longer handle it, I had to stop," Staci-Ann says.

"When I came to Kingston I did not have anywhere to live. It was my friend who asked somebody who asked a friend to put me up. I lived in a cellar - a basement ... . I never said that to anybody; not even my family knows."

No more sacrifice

The 28-year-old debtor tells The Sunday Gleaner that, once she stopped paying student loan, she took the opportunity to acquire things such as a bed, sofa, chest of drawers and refrigerator - things she never had before.

"I didn't have a home. I needed a home for once. I grew up without a home. I have lived in so many places with so many people having them tell me it's time to go. I needed a home, a real home. This is what I always wanted," Staci-Ann says, her eyes surveying the 8x10-feet quad in which she now lives.

"Does this mean that I am not sacrificing, or is it because I am not sacrificing my well-being anymore?"

The feisty young woman tells The Sunday Gleaner that she has every intention of repaying the bureau and she intends to start doing so soon. Today, her monthly net salary amounts to approximately $44,000 per month, which matches her expenses.

Name changed on request.