JUMP THE STICK AND PINCH MY EAR

Growing up and schooling in Butere – Sabatia was not all that fascinating, not with neighboring schools with names like Eshitsitswi, Enyenyesi, Eshinamwenyuli, Ebuchenya, Eshibanga and my very own Ebukolwe. I see folks joke on the interwebs how the name of the school was a contributing factor in performances, well not funny guys, folks in Emuyundi primary do not like that joke at all! Now in a bid to make the names a bit palatable, the prefix E would be dropped like a hot Potato. So I went to Buchenya Primary for my lower primary, then transferred to Bukolwe primary where one murderous Mr. Rafimbi was the head teacher. I shit you not, this guy would instill the fear of God  even in fellow teachers!! 

I remember back In Buchenya where my old man was the head teacher, it was a bit relaxed. My dad was such a gentleman (still is), could be rough sometimes, but for the most part an amiable guy. A trait many around would sometimes take advantage of. We would flow like Busta Rhymes in our tongue twista filled Marama back at Buchenya and make extremely weak attempts at Swahili whenever a teacher or a cop( read prefect) was a round. 

Now my mother noticed my ever deteriorating performance and requested for a transfer to Bukolwe where she was the 3rd in command. With a senior teacher for a mother and my other parent a head teacher I was basically royalty in the village! ( story for another day). First  day of school at Bukolwe, I was mortified!! This was a military camp not a school, JESO! Kids speaking English like they came from the same village as Shakespeare. Running from point to point and the prefects walked around with the confidence of the very teachers themselves. 

The very first test to ever take in my new school was a dictation test. The year was 1998, I will never forget, it almost felt like I was taking a test in Mandarin not ever having set foot on mainland China nor having interacted with anyone from there. I knew jack shit and that easily reflected on the marked papers when they were returned. The senior teacher’s son was among the very last ones! I was ashamed, so I can imagine how my mother must have felt and the way the staffroom was always on an ego trip among the female teachers. This young lass had transferred from Nairobi, her name alone would make the villagers in us bite our tongues, so Instead of calling her by her extremely exotic names we resorted to bullying her and name calling. Well, I was not among those and with good reason, much later on, it would suffice that I had such a huge crush on her. How many kids in your village school had the name Meldine though? Let us be honest hahaha! To date I have not met any lady who goes by that name.

Now I am a quick study, my Luhya laced english slowly but surely metamorphosized into actual english. My mother was an English teacher, the extra lessons at home would go a long way and I would soon become extremely good at composition writing.  The ability to story tell was always innate, I just needed to learn the vocabulary and the tenses. Hence it should be no surprise that I devote copious amounts of time to tell tales from the deepest and sometimes abstract parts of my brain.

In these village schools, you were either a dork, a valedictorian or the athletic type. Woe unto you if you were the dorky type, unlike the schools with names you can pronounce without biting your tongue, it was very catastrophic to be any sort of misfit in our village schools. 

The bullying was just insane. This chap Eshiokhunjira was our class terror, he wasn’t big in size or anything but dude just had balls on him. He would pick fights with literally anyone and WIN! I spent so much time making sure our paths never crossed till they eventually did, In class seven – I think. I can’t even recall what it was, but the fella was quick to anger so I am sure it was something petty. After a couple verbal exchanges, dude booked me for a fight after class in front of everyone in class. There was no escaping this one, man. It was a defining moment you know, be counted among the brave ones, get my ass whooped or simply puss out after all Kenny Rogers opines that the coward lives to tell the tale huh. I was no fighter, but I knew If I turned down this fight my social standing would take a mighty beating. I would have none of that. Meldine would never notice me among the many who eyed her hahaha! 

Bell rang indicating the end of evening preps. Mr. Rafimbi’s Bicycle was still parked but we boys decided we were going to honor our match regardless! A small group that was privy to this fight huddled behind classes and the duel began. I am sure he threw the fast punch, I am also sure it landed squarely on my face. I don’t think I liked that very much, I grabbed him and pushed or something because we fell and when I was just about to reign terror on him the fellas who were gathered to witness started running away, an indication someone with authority was in the vicinity. I also ran away. The report that we had been fighting however still got to Mr. Rafimbi, who decided since we had been watching enough wrestlemania we should do it right in the middle of the school assembly in front of our classmates.

Class gathered and whoever got the other flat on their back the first will be the outright winner, those were the rules. That kid was strong. I kid you not, we tugged, pulled, huffed and puffed and after an extended period I put him down and he quickly overturned my premature victory. The duel was declared a draw much to my chagrin!  Who am I kidding though, I am very happy the result was as it was, because Mr. Rafimbi would have beat the loser senseless. Scoring a draw against the class bully was good for me hahaha! 

With both parents as teachers we were deemed very affluent by the village standards, I was deemed a cerelac kid and that is not the kind of rep I wanted moving forward so I just had to fight out this one. I had lost almost all my fights growing up to that point and that incensed me big time even as a kid. You know, the ones a stick is put between you and your opponent. Crossing the stick was considered an act of heroism till you get your ass boxed in like I did sometimes back in lower primary after my elder brother pit me against a friend from the village in what we shall just call dick measuring contest because there was no actual beef between me and the other kid. So a stick was put between us, and instructions were that whoever crossed and pinched the other’s ear was the man. 

I looked at my opponent’s frame,he was smaller and I thought I could take him without a shred of doubt. Wueh!  I started well, I did not finish well! Lil’ dude pummelled me proper, and I had this very memory going into the class Bully’s fight. No way I was going to lose that one too hahaha! I was not very adventurous  as a kid. My mother and Flaqo’s mum from his viral videos share a lot. 

Mum never spared the rod, for me to get into mischief it had to be very worth it and extremely deliberate like stealing five bob coins, the big ones to watch deadly prey among other intriguing action flicks. 

Sometimes last year around this time of the year we had just lost a very iconic youth in Bungoma town and my tribute to him marked the second story on my blog spot. This will be my 13th post. Lately, I have been struggling with my creative expression big time, I cannot attribute it to  one thing or the other, but my frequency in posting has been affected. I also managed to read a book that was simply perfect for my predicament. Stuck in a rut, nothing intriguing flowing out of you mind. The author encouraged wannabe writers that during this period you simply pen anything even if it’s just doodling on a piece of paper and submitting for review. This 13th post, is yours truly trying to trick his mind into getting into a creative frenzy, you know the state where I derive a story from the mundanest of experiences. Like a fly landing on my lap and me shoo~ing it a way. 

You will not learn or get inspired by my 13th post, you will probably laugh at my coward ass and while you do that feel free to drop me a comment or share this story with your friend from Esitsitswi hahaha!