AT LAST, I SLEPT HOME AFTER BEING RELEASED FROM POLICE CELLS, WELCOME TO LIFE IN KIANDIERI HIGH SCHOOL.

(After the west gate mall Attack, sad that it seems we have moved on. The middle class claims #WeAreOne, yes they think so but the sooner they smell the coffee the better, life is not all rosy over here where buying a packet of milk is a struggle.)

Back to my story………(For the first time in a couple of days, I had a night in between the sheets)

The following day, by seven in the morning, ‘well wishers’ had already started flocking our home. All interested in determining where the rain started beating me and offering me a piece of advice and may be encouraging me to embark on a journey to recovery. To me, this was wastage of time. What had ‘eaten me’ and what had become of me by then is something that I have never ever known to date. I wished they would cut their long stories short and leave to go and do more productive work in other sectors of the economy. To me, my fate was sealed; I had accepted and moved on. I thought that all was done and education was no more a thing to think of. Poor me, I guess I had lost hope.

The visitors kept on trooping in. Their message was simple….’Reform and agree to concentrate with your studies, that’s all you can inherit from your parents, they have no land to offer you’. The message was simple and all appeared to read from the same script. I guess my heart was Pharaoh like, I never softened my stand. I thought I was wise and good to go n face life minus any more education!  Things went on till one day, a miracle happened, I was now willing to recollect myself and give education a second shot.

This is what happened…The last time I saw mum crying was at the Police station when she came to visit me accompanied by friends. I was called out and came out from the cells looking so worn out.  She wept uncontrollably but I never gave it so much time. Things were different on this other material day after I was released and now at home; she sat me down and talked to me so passionately. She explained to me how I gave her a hard time during and after birth. She was weeping so hard, the pain was all over her face. Shame and shame was all I had caused her. She simply asked me why I was causing her this pain at my age, tears of pain rolling down her cheeks. This point in time, something special happened, I decided to make a promise that I will change and commit that I will join another school if given a chance.

Little did I know that this was the beginning of another painful struggle. The search for a new school was another frustrating experience. Most of the schools in our district could not admit me after they heard of what had happened in my former school and my involvement in the whole saga. The worst part came after one of our distant relatives, a headmistress at a local day secondary school also denied me an opportunity to re invent myself education wise. It took me with shock and pain. Reality was now with me that I had messed up.

Daddy visited so many schools; none was ready to admit me. Finally, he went to Mwea and one Principal namely Mr Ndegwa was ready to give me a chance, the place was far and remote, the weather unforgiving, no reliable mode of transport, the school was also not known to perform well and was constantly on strike. Students had a history of indiscipline. All who were sent away elsewhere were admitted here, it was no better than staying home, yet another blow back!

Daddy came back and tried to convince mummy that I had no option but join this school. Luckily, she never bought the idea that I was to join this school, she had a plan B. She talked to Mr Gichangi, The principal Kiandieri day mixed secondary and shared my case with him. He was willing   to give me a chance on condition that I told him what had happened without fabricating any part of the story. I was ready to do so. We were given the date to go to this school and have me tell it out. Little did I know that I was going to mess up again even before the interview, leave alone admission.

This is how it happened….

All long after I was released from the police cells; I had never cut my hair. It was long and Afro like. On this material day, I should have been a smart and presentable boy. I had not shaved my hair despite the fact that I knew very well of what was expected of me as a student.  I just took shower and grabbed a blue pair of Trousers; a flare one and a blue shirt that I decided not to tuck in. My mum woke up so sick and was bed ridden hence dad had to accompany me to the School which was approximately seven Kilometers away from our home. We did the whole seven Kilometers on foot, my daddy’s bike could only be useful on our way back, the place was very hilly, there were no Matatus plying this route too!

Tragedy was to strike immediately we got at the school gate. The principal could see us enter the school compound trough one of his office windows. By the time we got to his office, my fate had been sealed in absentia. He could not talk to a thug looking person like me. ……’I have given him a red card! I cannot talk to a boy with that kind of hair, un tacked shirt and a skirt like trouser, let him go back home’…He said.

Dad got mad at me; he left me after we were out of the school compound. I had to walk over seven Kilometers to my home alone after day, in a lot of anger left me behind. This was heartbreaking for mum.  I narrated the whole story to her. She was shocked and let down by me again but with love, she advised me to go and shave and get a decent trouser and shirt ready to make another visit to the school. She had to leave her bed despite her sickness just to make sure that I get back to school again. We walked again to the school and this time round, we were given audience.

In the Principals office, I was to give out a detailed account of what happened in exchange of an opportunity to study there. That I did so desperately and never even attempted to cheat. At Last, there was some light at the end of the tunnel. I was given an admission letter and a detailed list of the books that I had to buy. I was not supposed to benefit from any of the books that were used by other students and issued to then only for them to return later. I was to buy mine and carry them home daily. We left the school, went to town, bought all the required materials and the following day, I was ready for school.

I woke up so early, arrived in school on time and took the books and other requirements that were expected of me to the principal’s office. They were inspected so as to establish that I had brought what was expected and luckily, they were okey! This was not enough; I was assigned to Mrs Kariuki, a CRE Teacher and was required to visit her at break time for guidance and counseling. Like Mrs Gitau, my lower primary school teacher, she embraced me with two hands. Gave me motherly advice and always gave me hope that all will be well as long as I was committed to taking a new direction in life.

I was later taken to the classroom. Introduction was done and I was allocated a seat. Ready to learn, I took up the fight. I had a lovely time here at the first day, lovely and welcoming classmates, Loving teachers and all I can say was that I was given a new lease of life. The first week passed away so well and as the second week was coming to an end, I messed up again. This time round, I hit a classmate with a walking stick that I used to scare away dogs now that I was leaving home so early in the morning.

On this material day, a Lady by the name Wanjira, who I later learned was a relative to the principal was taking word round that I was her new boyfriend and this was taking place barely before two weeks were over after I had joined this school. With anger and without a second thought, I hit her hard at the back and she screamed so loudly that she caught the attention of the principal who was standing outside his office. This earned me two weeks suspension and I was to be accompanied by Mum after the two weeks duration elapsed. This was a big blow to all those who were helping me re trace my footsteps but was too late to salvage me from suspension.

Back Home, it was double tragedy, so much had been spent in buying me books, uniform and paying my school fees and before two weeks were gone, I was at home again. Mum had again become a laughing stock. Most of her friends were already celebrating my downfall and asking her why she was struggling with a boy who did not have school in his heart. It was so heartbreaking to her but again, she was a strong woman, she never gave up on me despite these shameful moments that I was taking her through.

Two weeks passed and it was time to report back so as to be disciplined for what I had done. We got to the principal’s office, cased for hours and the verdict was out! I was to uproot a tree stump alone and would not get to class before I was done. I did it amidst struggles and by evening I was done thanks to my friends who assisted me after the principal had left and no teacher was around.  I left and went home so tired and vowed to style up! Yes, I had learned my lesson.

Time passed on fast without major Hick ups. As days passed by, we got into a group with several guys that were namely Karani, a.k.a Ka Master (Who had been sent packing from Kianyaga High School), Stano, Ngari a.k.a Tembo and others not named here. We could drink over the weekend, smoke marijuana, visit each other’s homes and do all sorts of evils , we were ‘lucky’ that we were never caught in the act despite rumors being sent to the principal’s office .We kept it to ourselves and could not discuss the weekend happenings in the presence of other students. This was happening towards the end of third term and we were in form three. We sat for end of term exams and passed, ready to join form four.

The first term in form four was not a bad one, second term not a bad one too but all was not well when we sat for our mock exams. For the first time in secondary school, I scored a D Plus. This was a wake up call to me. My house needed to be put in order, I hatched a plot very fast and trusted that the remaining months would be enough for me to pull a surprise to all who though that I would fail in my KCSE Exams. I went to Kangaita, a village where my Auntie resides, took books, past papers and some revision materials  from a cousin who had sat for her form four the previous year and decided to rage a war on books. I also told mum to buy me five litres of kerosene so as to enable me trans~night in an attempt to recover lost grounds. This she did without so many questions.

I started revising all necessary materials and by the time KCSE exams were on, I was good to go! We sat for the exams and did most of the papers with ease apart from mathematics that to me was hell on earth. Time to part ways with all friends that we had wasted time HAD FINALLY COME…….!

WELCOME LIFE IN HIGH SCHOOL - KERUGOYA BOYS HIGH SCHOOL.

(Today marks the second day of the West Gate Mall attack and no breakthrough yet, the Lord reigns though) Back to my story......

In the year 2000, it was time to report to form one. I cannot remember very well how it was like Mum and I shopping for goodies so that I can join form one. What is very memorable is the day that she escorted me from home to school which was a 'walking distance' or the pocket power of my family could not afford me a cab to carry my metal box and all the goodies to school. I guess mum carried them using a rope like a bunch of firewood as was traditionally done when women were leaving the forest on a firewood gathering mission.

I was so Tiny and along the way, people were mocking me that my box was ‘taller’ than I was and true to their word, I could barely lift it from the ground. The best I did was to carry a small twenty litre bucket as mum shouldered all  the other burden, all in the name of giving an ‘innocent’ son a decent escort to join a secondary school which was envied by many village folk, that I must say.

We were ushered at the school entrance where there was a check list activity so as to confirm that one had purchased all the items that were required of us . In the midst of the financial constraints that was the order of the day in my family, I was blessed to have been bought for all the required items and as soon as this was confirmed, it was time to bid mum goodbye and one gentle man, Mureithi whose mother was my mum’s friend took over ‘parenthood’ as long as I was in the environs of the school. Goodbye mummie, welcome secondary school life…….!

Mureithi helped me carry the box and mattress to Aberdare Dormitory where along the way, I came face to face with the reality. Bullying / ‘Monolization’ was live here and a few pinches, punches and naughty words were hurled towards me en route Aberdare dormitory. I was in panic mode and was already wondering why things had changed so fast. Mum was nowhere to be seen. Only very tall and bearded bullies awaiting us along the road but thanks Goodness, my god parent was in control, at least for the time being.

Days passed, I was bullied a.k.a monolized, as well as others. We were woken up at night and forced to wash uniforms belonging to form threes and fours. We washed their dishes, wiped and polished their shoes, spread their beds and even fetched water for them. Not forgetting being forced to  do the impossibilities like 'fetch darkness in a bucket', show them physically what was making one laugh incase you were caught doing so after the bullies set us traps by grinning hence appearing to be laughing only to change mood so fast and put on what was popularly known as ‘stone' to mean stone face. Rugby players, hockey players as well as other sportsmen forced us to wash their sports clothes and not to forget the stinking socks that we would be forced to sniff like sniffer dogs!

Over the weekends and specifically on Sundays, things were so bad as there were no classes taking place full day. Things were too bad that we the form ones had to come up with a counter strategy, get Saved! This was informed by the fact that we Catholics had to attend the Catholic Association mass, CA at the chapel but sadly we were bullied right as the mass was going on! This made most of the form ones to Join the protestant group by the name CU, to mean Christian Union as here, there was no bullying and the prayers never ended as fast as was the case in the Catholic Chapel. This had us a perfect place to hide from bullying as well as ‘act’ saved for our safety and hence i  got saved.

First term passed , welcome second term. Things were taking a different shape and slowly, we could dodge these bullies and at times bully them too. Case in point is when they sent us to fetch hot water from a central place called Gakuni. This was done in a way that they took time to discover. The mission started when the seniors put sugar and cocoa in a cap and sent us to the hot water point so as to make what we referred to as Mkorogo. We would make it, drink a half of it, fill the remaining bit with urine and then take it to them. Disgusting as it was, it was payback time! 

What we were doing was soon discovered and before we could hand over the mixture, we were supposed to take a big sip to confirm that all was well! Lucky enough, second term in the midist of the struggles was gone and welcome third term. By now, I  and a bunch of my friends by the names King’ori, Morris, Peter, Bernard and Karani had grown horns and even had a name Home Boyz. We did most things together and I must appreciate most of the things were positive. Thanks good ness, third term was gone without any major and ugly incidences to report.but i guess i had back slided and 'seven demons' were now haunting me......!

Hell broke loose in the year 2001 after joining form Two. I and a bunch of boys started drinking beer at the opening day where we would carry packed richot (black and white sachets) and Kibuga Wine to school and drink ourselves to a point that we were tipsy but not too drunk  to be noticed. This was the third time I had taken beer the first being at Aunt Immaculate’s home where my cousins Paul, Anthony and Samson made me drink a local brew that made me vomit all night long such that I spent the following day by the riverside washing the beddings. This was the worst experience ever as i was also suffering from hangover, a beast that i had never encountered previously. The second time to take beer was with a friend, Peter, the man who I previously said was my class mate in class four and is a successful business man as at now and Christopher who was a son to our Councilor by the name Mr Gitari.  Chris was our sponsor and is the dude who bought us several bottles of Pilsner at a local bar known by then as Mumbu Bar.

I was some how lucky that I was never caught drunk but tragedy would strike one day during morning cleaning time when  I was caught red handed by the deputy principal Mr Karari speaking in my mother tongue which was never allowed in school. This resulted to two weeks suspension and was required to buy two books, Think Big and Gifted Hands. Mum was so mad at me as she could not afford the two books plus the remaining school fees balance at the same time. Luckily, an uncle of mine by the name Mr Kinuthia ( may his soul rest in peace) gave us Two thousand shillings which was welcome in aiding me get to school after the two weeks ban which I did.

The un believable took place later. I would for the first time smoke Marijuana as I met a couple of friends smoking and had to puff twice out of curiosity. Luckily, I did not  get high as I just puffed in and out but this group would be my new friends who we would later be involved in planning for unsuccessful strike and dimming of lights to discontinue learning and force the administration to send us home. This failed and fast, we hatched a new plot! This was that we were to contribute money to buy petrol and torch down a store that was packed with mattresses and other items. In this group was Mashaa, miano, Kabao, Gichira me and others who are not included here. We successfully bought the petrol and one night, we torched the store down hoping that this time round, the whole school would be sent home and closed indefinately.

 

To our shock, we were later to be nabbed after the management failed to close down the school but decided to undertake investigations with the help of detectives. What I can remember was a day after the torching down of the store, I was sleeping in Aberdare dormitory and someone, who was a cop, accompanied by Mr Warui, the head teacher nick named Mtiki called out my name! I realized that all was not well and dared not to raise my head. The dormitory captain, Mr Kiama was asked to locate my bed and soon, I was frog marched to a waiting van only to find myself in a police van and later we were locked up in Kerugoya Police cells with all my comrades.

We would in the morning be taken to different rooms to write statements and here, I was tortured like never before. I guess mum had never inflicted so much pain on my body in all the times that I had wronged her hence had to cough out all I knew on the whole stupid and un godly act of torching the store. My relatives were notified that I was locked in and to their shock and dismay, they came in numbers only for me to be called out and meet them weeping for one of theirs who by now was a state guest at this early age instead of being in school learning.

Our parents were called in and had like two days discussing the way forward at the police station. We would later be released after spending days behind bars and let to go home. Later, My brothers and sisters told me that when I got home, they noticed an unusual stench of someone who had not taken shower for ages some meters away. Yes! That was me. Life in the cells was bad. We never showered, we slept on the floor, the place was so un hygienic and to make the matters worse, we were bundled together in the same cells with all manner of fellow criminals, drunkards and jail birds.

At home, i was told to wait outside as water was warmed, taken to the bathroom and the bed bug infested me had  to take shower, throw away the lice infested clothes and with much love like the prodigal son, I  was served with a delicacy like someone who had done no wrong. Later, it was time to sleep! At least in a comfortable environment, on a bed, free from congestion, rice and bugs and also had a blanket for the night……..!

GRADUATING FROM LOWER PRIMARY TO UPPER PRIMARY AND LESSONS LEARNED.

(Today is World peace Day! So sad that the West Gate mall was attacked today. May the souls of those who passed on rest in peace and quick recovery to those who have been hurt)

Back to my story...... Goodbye Lower primary, welcome upper primary. This was one of the most awaited moment as it marked a ‘promotion’ to a new whole world in school life. At least i was not a Kid any more... i thought! The most memorable moment in class four was during the exams as ‘those who used to perform not so well in exams’ had to secure all means to up their game and I had to assist a lovely friend by the name Peter who could not even write his name! This dude never went past class eight as his efforts during the exams were not very fruitful but thanks God the dude is doing so well in business and happily married now!

The year ended so fast and soon, I joined class five white. Learning was amazing but one day, mum decided that it was time to say goodbye to life in a public school and welcome life in a private school hence enrolling me at St John progressive Academy locally known as ‘Kwa Ngure’  named after Mr John Ngure who was an education officer in our district then. Joining this mixed day and boarding school marked a turning point in my life where I learned  of the best and worst lessons in my early life.

One of them was that I was supposed to do as the Romans did in Rome incase I landed there but I learned it the wrong way. On the second day, I decided to go to school shoe less as in my former public school, wearing shoes in a normal school day was optional. Come parade time, reality struck and I realized that I was the odd one out. Luckily, this was not an ‘inspection day’ hence I managed to get to class un noticed by the teachers. To avoid a lot of drama, I never left the class to the loo, for break and even lunch and had to wait after all students had left the school compound after four in the evening so as to comfortably sneak the shoe less me out of the school compound. A culture shock that was!

The worst lesson that i learned here was that it was possible to disagree and even fight teachers as was the case of a friend by the name Dan who was a boarder. If one tried this in a public school, this would have literally called for a death sentence.  I became big headed to a point of being sent away and was driven home by the Manager Mr Ngure after misbehaving and imitating him in front of the class.

Mum was not at home so we met Grandma by the name Anjerina  where the manager told her that I should never get back to that school now that I had the guts to mimic him and make jokes out of any speech that he gave us and on his lovely mathematics strong point by the acronym BODMAS! My Loving and ever blazing mum took the matter under control and the following day, I was re admitted back to school. I would later mis behave on several instances to a point of earning my self a constant and permanent place in the black book. Despite all, The Manager never gave up on me till I did class eight. Thanks Mr Ngure for that!

Lessons from Dan continued and I would later hear him talk of 'soap jelly' which was hidden meaning of masturbation. This was what boarders used to do using soap a thing that would come to terrorize me later in my life. Most of the boys’ talk when Dan was around was all about sex and so sad that at this age, he would explain us on sexual fantasies that he shared with Carol, his girl friend of that time where he was backed by another day scholar by the name Steve sharing similar experiences. This I can say was the foundation of my irresponsible sexual behavior at a very tender age and something I would struggle with in my later years in adult hood.

The positive side of this was that In St John progressive Academy, there was serious competition and learning was taking place. Anne, Robinson, Terresia, Joseph, Felix and others gave me a run for my time in school and I can say that they were worthy Comrades. The other was that Mr Ngure and Mrs Rosemary Githanda took the Catholic Doctrine so seriously that my Christianity got a strong foundation here. Big up Mrs Rosemary for a job well done and also for being my CRE teacher all trough till I sat for my class eight exams.

Summarizing my life in St John, I can say that I got a very strong foundation of what I am today here both positive and negative.  Year 1999 came, KCPE Exams too and the results were not bad as I scored 497/700 to secure admission at Kerugoya Boys High school a well known  provincial school by then........More Drama followed here!

THIS IS ME.

Born in the year 1985, Mum happens to be the best person to tell of how i grew from that day but i came to personally know my self when i joined nursery school. This is all i can remember hence i decided to tell my story the way i know it. May be you will learn something from me......!
Welcome......

Back in 1991, i joined nursery school at Kiaritha primary school. Mrs Mugo was my teacher and soon, she taught me how to blow my nose, sit down on a desk and listen to her, ask for permission to the loo and how to address her in her right title not forgetting how to read and write my names and fit them in the space provided. .By the end of the year, i had a tip of  the basics of education and having been able to clinch the first position in the nursery school stream, i was promoted to join class one the following year.The award for clinching the first position was the usual Maziwa ya Nyayo where i was given two cases and assigned a class eight dude to carry them and escort me home as i was so tiny to carry the weight. Never mind what happened after i took an "over dose" of this milk and the consequences in the following three days.

In the year 1992, i joined class one Red which was taught by the Late Mr Gichohi commonly known as 'Mbira' which was an abusive word that he used to call students when he got mad of them. He used to cane so much and i had to tell mum that school was no longer interesting with such caning. It was soon that i  realized that he used to teach my dad and had this behavior of canning in his 'blood '.Mum had to very fast think of a rescue plan which was hatched too fast for him to get an idea of what had taken place. I was sneaked out of his class to join class one White which was taught by the now retired Mrs Gitau and my names changed to Samuel Muthii to disguise and confuse him. This was the turning point in my education life as she held me like her son and i regained my interest in education
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During the years 1993 and 1994 the basics of my education were enhanced with minimal drama until towards the end of year 1994 where a major blunder occured. I had cut Sarah Wanjiru on her thigh with a Razor blade as i was undertaking a mischievous venture under her desk. This resulted to thorough beating by Mum and Mwalimu hence marking the beginning of what was routine in my life. 'To ice the lower primary mischief cake', we had a boys' fight with Mureithi Ndambiri and mwalimu decided that the punishment was to receive five strokes on our behind without touching them lest we lost the already received canes and the counting starts afresh. I took my five with ease but Mureithi, nicknamed 'Gacamba' could not bear more than three which meant the last day in school for him as he ran out of the class and never got back again.There was no any practical day that passed without me being whipped by mum for all a manner of mischievous ventures that i used to undertake.Despite this, we did end term exams and i emerged number one as usual and was promoted to join upper primary.