19/07/2018

Kapsabet Boys High School.                                                                                          19/07/2018
                        Thursday, the 19th day of July 2018

Its 12:30pm. Some form one class representative is sent to my class, form 3Beta to call one Caleb Oira. That happens to be me of course. You see, in my school, such summons are not common. But when they do happen, something's up. Something real big and serious. Its either some lousy teacher has called your parent to school and you're thus asked to go and meet them or the ever mean deputy principal has come across your 'case files' and deems to give you one hell of a punishment or a suspension hitherto.
But neither of those are the case for me. Why would my parent be called to school when I'm not the best of the worst? And why on this freaking earth would I be given uncalled for summons by 'Solo' when its conventional knowledge that there's no better disciplined boy than I in school? This time, it's Kilunda,my house master, who's doing the calling. And as such, it is not rocket science for the whole class to join the dots and decode what the guy's gonna disseminate .
It's the prefect-selection period and today is the summit. Teachers are gonna sit in the staff lounge for a whole six hours to select a bunch of 72 lousy boys to be their henchmen. To date I've not gotten the slightest of idea why big men and women would sit for such long hours to select guys who end up doing nothing as expected. Back to our story.
So I get out of class amid whispers from 'my boys'; "sawa captaaaain". Another mad guy we've christened Kante-due to his high melanin content-jeers. " Haupenyi msee." All that is but bull crap to me. I run to meet this Kilunda guy.
The meeting is brief. Precise as I expected it to be. I'm a house prefect at that moment. He asks for my recommendation on the dudes to take over. I give him the damn names I've neatly written on a shorthand notebook sheet. I speak English. Damn good English. I want to put up the show of a good boy so as to get his support during that 'vetting' meeting set to be convened later that afternoon. Two minutes into our meeting, we're done. I go back to class the proudest man in school.
My boys look at me the way they used to look at the guy who'd been asked to go for Brazil-Belgium WC results from a friendly cook. They're expecting me to say that I've been handed a direct ticket to becoming deputy captain. I don't. I'm not that guy who'd brag about such. I could read disappointment in their eyes. But that didn't bother me a bit.
Seconds pass. Minutes pass and so do hours. It's four in the evening. I wake up from sleep. Yes, sleep. I've been sleeping the whole afternoon. Teachers are in that archaic vetting process of theirs in the staff lounge. What did you expect? My friend, kama hujui, hiyo usingizi ya desk ndio ndio hukuanga tamu kuliko zote. Inakujanga bila kuitwa. Ask any highschooler and you'll decipher I'm not on my own.
So I wake up and go to the dorm to extend the sleep. The walk from class to dorm was the longest that day. I almost fathomed that the dorms had been moved farther away than usual. I was getting all kinds of warnings, compliments and disses along the drive. "Oira ukipenya usipande bei." Another would shout "Oira tibiiiim!" While yet some other poltroon would claim that  I'm just another lost kid who's lost focus. I let him be. Its not in my modest to blow my own trumpet.
I got to the dorm. There, I would meet one Kogo Victor. He was in the same shoes as mine. He had applied for the biggest post in the prefecture-school captain. Tension was my potion. I was overtly in shivers. My teeth were clattering but I could not help it. For my buddy Kogo, its like nothing was up for him. He was composed and could not help but jeer at my tension. At one point, he actually spoke sheng'.(It was his first time). "Oira uskae tense. Hii vitu itapita." Its like 'alikuwa amepata mbuzi akaambiwa ameshapenya.'
I tried to sleep but it was evitable. Lousy! I lamented waking up from that desk-slumber. I opened my box, grabbed a handful of biscuits and began munching. I was not in the moods either. That was the first time I recall contemplating of how wrong my decision to apply for deputy captain was. I even swore not to apply for any leadership post in future. Funny!
As I was cursing the earth and lamenting at my poor choices, some other messenger came. This time, the message was Victor's. He had been called by his class teacher. It wasn't a surprise for me.
I opted to go alongside him. Maybe I could've relieved the tight tension.
We walked on. Talked man to man on issues affecting Kenya and such. I know many don't do such talks but yeah, that's life; not everyone is born with wittier brains. (On a light note). Later on, we parted ways. He went his way and I went to the newspaper gallery. I had to at least get a sneak peek of the magazines. I couldn't do without those politics-oriented prose. They too were illegible. I could hardly fathom why I was such nervous.
5:30 pm.
Its supper time. Yes! At least that's one thing I'll not lack the psyche for. So I go to the dining hall swearing how I'll devour that ugali and meat for the last time in a common table. That was too overconfident of me but it didn't matter then. I sat next to yet another who was in my shoes. Odhiambo Arnold Asembo. A charismatic and ever enthusiastic fella. He's rarely gloomy unlike me who's ever in a long face save for few moments like such (supper time). He too had applied for deputy captain. I decide to poke him. "Asembo big man, ukihata(slang for miss) utafanya nini?" The dude gave the craziest of responses. "Nitaenda hapo mbele nijiapishe kama People's Captain." It was unheard of. I knew he was just kidding so I just laid it off.
For a moment, I also decided to fathom of what could become of me if I missed out. Would I be ostracized from clubs? Would I be respected anymore? Would life be the same for me? It was not in my position to contemplate further. I was assured of a win-win situation that evening. Precedence had it that all Naivasha(the name of my house) prefects always scaled the heights to become school captains. Who was I to breach history?
6:00pm.
The tech-savvies began setting up microphones on the assemblies. The moment of truth was here. Wakati wa kujua mbivu na bichi. The bell rang. All heels were scramming to get to the parade. This was a moment no lazzarian would afford to miss. I too,like the rest, ran to the assembly. My four buddies with whom we've coined a name for ourselves-esquires-were there with me. Three of us were tensed to the core. Two were in their ever confident spirits. Congrats brother Opio and Kogo. You got to elucidate to the rest of us how you managed to be so composed then.
Solo moved to the dais. His huge body made his presence felt. In his grip was a white sheet of paper. The same one which had spelt the doom and heaven for some of us.
"Vijana,hebu tutulie. We want to start the programme and we expect that each and every one of you will maintain the calm till the end." That was Mr Busolo.
The common rituals were done. Outgoing team went to the front. I was hellbent on going but circumstances compelled me to comply. You see I was at the front and was in a distinguishable blue shirt that had neatly been ironed.(I was among the very few who adhered to such tidiness).So I moved to the front and leaned against a pillar. I was too feeble to stand on my own.
The weather was not so promising. Dark clouds were gathering and rumbling thunder was snaring at us. It was going to rain. A few names had been read out and a few expectant form one and two lads had banged their jobs. The first few drops of rain fell when form three's names were just on the brink of Busolo's lips. He paused dramatically. Then the full wrath of the rain was unleashed. Though not 'cats and dogs'. My mentor Osoch scorns the use of such clichés.
The venue had to be changed. And it was changed. The boys who were full of enthusiasm poured into the Dining Hall. The rest of those of my calibre, those weak hearted ones, slugged behind. The evening never seemed to come to an end.
In the DH, the buzz was crystalline. Boys in their groups were all about how so and so 'ameanikwa'. I was just glad I didn't hear my name in those ruffian talks. I swear I would have smashed someone's balls if it were not so. Another of my friends, who coincidentally had also applied to be school captain, Manyang, was in the podium doing this and that to fasten the 'programme'. His confidence in success was long due exuded.
I chose not to go to the biggie's position. I opted to lay low in the crowds. Just in case, you know, things don't go as planned. They always don't go as planned anyway. So I went deep into the crowds. I stood next to some form three south dudes who were ruffianly ranting all sorts of jeers. Their voices combined was nothing short of Professor Hamo's. It was irritating but I had to stand it. Strategy demanded so.
All was set for the expedition of the process. House Captains were next on the list. Feelings of premonition gauged high in my hypothalamus. I felt hot. Not 'hot' in sheng. Hot as in hot. My throat was becoming scratchy. My palms became wet.(Moenga if you're reading this, its not 'wet' of your dimension). Solo took up position. "Next on the list are house captains..." He read the first eight. My house was the last on the list. And then boom! It exploded right to my face! "Naivasha house captain, Caleb Oira of Form 3Beta." He callously said my name with such a conviction that seemed to tell me, "It is done young man!" And yeah, it was done! It was unbelievable. Unbelievable not because I had made it to be house captain, but rather because I had missed out on my nirvana. In layman terms, 'nilikuwa nimeanikwa'.
For a moment, I became numb; my whole body. I could not move, think, feel  nor see. I could only breathe; in heaves. I stood there rooted. I didn't know whether to jump high up and howl words of disdain or to just keep the loathe and ire in me. But later on, it became elucidate that the latter carried the day.
I did not move to the front as by law established. I stood where I was, cold and numb with lethargy. I could hardly hold back my tears. But I had to. Real men don't cry. At least not before other real men. So I just swallowed down the pain.
Out of the nowhere, appears this form two boy. He's a kisii by ethnicity. He's one of the infamous celebs in school. He talks way too much. The more the reason he's been christened 'Matiangi'. So the boy, with audacity comes and stands besides me. He first gives me that sorry look which I rudely ignore. He then giggles. I feel like slapping him real hard. But I don't. I fear causing a scene; which will only be to my own detriment. So I hold back my ire. He then looks at me again. This time, straight into my eyes, and says this; "Oira msee, izia man. Hizi vitu hu-happen." He's sincere, and I know it. But the devil in me tells me that the dude is jeering at me. I resist the devil. I refute his claims and manage to tuck in my composure.
By the time the numbness is gone, Busolo is on the last streak. It's what everybody's been waiting for. The 'Big Six'. These are the dudes who get to put on blue red-stripped ties and fancy blazers that rival those of army commanders, get to sleep in their own secluded cubicles and above all, get to dine on their own table which is served extra food. Who are these lucky ones?
There are only six of those posts, and eight prospective candidates had not been called. This could only mean one thing, the axe had fallen! Who were the unlucky two?
Four of my buddies were in the waiting list. I could only fathom of the kind of tension that had befell one D.J.Aboge😂 and Odhiambo Asembo. Mmh,come to think of it, isn't it rather unusual for Luo's with their egocentrism to be tense? Give it a spin.
So, back to our story.
Busolo begins reading out the names of the big six. The DH is silent. I bet a silent fart could be noticed.(Don't say I said). First to be called is David Johnson Aboge. He managed to be Deputy captain in charge of sanitation. My other ever-confident friend, Clayton Opio, is called next as D.C in charge of welfare. That's when the silence is broken. From where I was standing, I could hear one loud grumble from the back. "Sasa huyu jamaa si atatuekea movie za C.U enta!" I was bit for comments.
Then one of my lousiest peeps was selected as D.C for academics. Jesse Kipchumba. I can bet on my life that the dude himself didn't think he'd go that far. But hail the luhya adage, 'vindu vichenjanga'. Maybe it was time for a change. D.C for boarding, where I had applied, happened to be one guy who had no experience in such a docket. One Dhillon Stephan was selected to head the department. At that point, I could feel the fire in me burn with such intensity that dared me to contemplate sabotage and murder. I could not help it.
Two posts were up for grabs and there were four contestants on the bench. My other timid friend, Odhiambo Asembo, managed to be the prefecture's number two. For him, the whole DH went wild. It did not come as a surprise. Under any normal circumstances, he was a naturally appeasing guy with such charismatic qualities that made him irresistible for any elective position. Now there was only one shot left to go. School Captain.
Busolo paused and posed. It was dramatic. He knew the intensity with which his last declaration was regarded. It was as if he had given stopped to first give an admiration of his labor so far. He then proceeded.
"And the school captain that will take us through 2018-2019,is none other than Simwa Victor Kogo!"
At that point, it became explicit that the axe had fallen on Manyang,who, for a fact, had been quite expectant.
The formalities were done. Hands were shaken. Ties were handed over and speeches were made. I was not in the mood for all that. Resentfully, I moved out of the DH and went my way into the rain which seemed not to notice my feelings of indignation and ire. I briskly walked after Busolo and expressly elucidated to him that I felt indignant and would not accept the post assigned. Adrenalin had taken the better part of me and I could seldom hold back my ire. I blurted out words in generous measure. I had no will to cease.
Words were spoken back to me in return. Words of erudition. One Mr Mwaniki analogized the pretext of the national government and told me that there could only be one president in any country. I looked at him and saw a void that begged to be filled with insight. Did this man not know that there was a people's president as well? Did he not know that Kenya is not just any other country? I could only but look back with concealed scorn.
I moved away. Any further engagement would be noisy, messy, and definitely have casualties.😂
I ran. I wailed. I cursed. It was unfathomable how my status would hold beyond that day. I walked past a clique of some mean-looking form fours who didn't seem to even care about my tribulation. Why would they care anyway? I was a non-essential asset for all they cared. If I couldn't buy them bread, of what essence was I? I moved on. I went to class. The distance then appeared shorter than usual. "What is with this earth?" I found myself uncontrollably contemplating. "One moment, from class to DH looks like a whole ten miles but the inverse is just less than a hundred meters! Crap!"
I was in the alley leading to my class the moment I was lamenting all that. It was hard to decipher how I would enter unnoticed and make a less announced debut. Then, like all men who've hit a dead end, I concluded that I did not care.  So I normally got in and walked to the back where I sit. I then looked at the white noticeboard. It stared back in scorn and dissidence. My fists clenched themselves unwillingly and blows without count fell on the noticeboard to my own detriment of course. The whole class of 55 had eyes on me. I could not stand that. I sorrowfully sank into my cold metallic seat and buried my head in that desk which, only hours ago had been a sweet slumber harbor.
My boy, Chris, just sat there in amazement. It was unheard of in Kapsabet that a lost ambition would wreak such havoc in one man.
At that moment, my brain was in a deep ponder of how I would quickly and without pain, end my life.
I didn't because a voice of reason overwrote the commands. I deciphered that a bunch of 81 contemptible men and women was not quorum enough to account for my destiny. That night, It dawned on me that destiny is mine to carve. I realized that however multitudinous any tribulation is, my life is not worth it. 

#I_shall_overcome




@oiraqaleb esq🇰🇪🇰🇪🇰🇪
The People's Captain,
Kapsabet High School.