Damn!

Image
              Nilikuwa pahali, before this guy, Albert Ojwang, akujiwe kushikwa na apelekwe Sayun na the stupid pigs in uniform.  May Albert Ojwang's family get justice.  Letstoriesunfold  truly empathizes with his family.  Tulikuwa tumeketi place fulani, kwa kikao. You know those kawaida catch-up vibes? There was food, drinks, at a place where the ambience is just right. Grown-up talk. Everyone just dropping life stories, big plans, a couple of throwbacks being tossed around, mini politics tukiitana,  “Hi cousin.” Tukiwa tumeisha mbaya sana, after tumelimana banters back to back. Then out of nowhere, in the middle of a chill convo about life and adulting, this beautiful petite lady — calm voice, radiant smile — anasema,   “By the way,  2010 nilikuwa Class One.” Kila kitu ilisimama. Sips stopped mid-air. Laughter froze. Someone even coughed in shock.   CLASS ONE?  2010? Nikachora quick mental math...

Scrummy.

The dread I was feeling at that very point in time, it was nerve wrecking. I was at a crossroad deciding whether I should knock and go in and face the music or call it quits with education. Fate has a cruel sense of humor, and I think it got tired of me dilly dallying so before I got a chance to make a decision, he saw me and called out.


“Wewe ndio aisking?”

“Ingia.”

“Very good.”

 “Unasema unataka kukua nani ukiwa mkubwa?”


“Neurosurgeon mwalimu.”


“Hio iko na letter ngapi za alphabet?”


Mr Ogolla was our deputy principal, plus doubling up as the discipline master. His famous Mr Green was a plumbing pipe fitter with cement on the bore and a stroke from that came could give the one unfortunate enough to be on its receiving end a stroke. Its on good authority that I heard that he once stopped a school strike from happening due to everyone's fear of being the sacrificial monkey to be hanged. 

Back to neurologist manenos. Hio siku tulikuwa tunapigiana hekaya pale class na my mates, Lewis, luchera, stano, and not forgetting, mukchu. Unfortunately the class prefect, Oluchina, had seen our fun, gotten jealous and out of envy, surrendered our names as peace destroyers aka noisemakers. I was first in the list and so first on the entrance to hell. 

I replied, knowing war was coming to me whether I liked it or not.

“Iko na letter tisa mwalimu.”


“Wewe!”

“kumbe akili imejaaa tu ugali ya dining hall,”

“andika hapa uhesabu.”


“Wan tuu thirii fo faiv...”

“Twelofu.”

“Nî twelofu mwalimu.”


“Hayaa enda chini.”


I knew resisting was futile at this point and would in turn result in the number of canes to be increased tremendously so I did as I was told as I waited for what was to come as the condemned waits upon their dreaded fate. 

Thwack! 

Thwack! 

Thwack! 

Thwack!

His instrument of punishment, the famous Mr Green, rained down mercilessly over my sitting apparatus over and over again until I lost count. Mr Ogolla, the deputy principal, continued on without seizing, without breaking a sweat, and the pain, heeeh, don't get me started on the pain I felt at that very moment.

As for my friends was the last time any of those four were my deskmates ever. Now that was like how fire is to gold. From then onward, no amount of caning could snap me. I was the kausha as they say, until I met Scrummy.

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