Walking on the cold embers
WALKING ON THE COLD EMBERS
Dedicated to my five daughters, Bethel, Addah, Mona, Paula, Marion and only son Loammi Byron.
Special thanks to the woman who has defied all odds to stand tested and proven:
Lillian.
Nothing is ever complete without mentioning Teclar my mother
.
And my teacher
Miriam.
My last and great salutations go to the greater minds that are working day and night to find cure for HIV/AIDS.
VICTOR.
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Walking on the cold embers
This was the 12th, April 2010 and as we sat, waiting for the doctor with other patients to be attended to, someone
mused if it was worthwhile fighting all the time to keep alive only to die ultimately. I was amazed at how people view
life and its attendant illnesses. The nurse came along asking for our cards and within a short while I had been ushered
in to start a journey of its own. “Good morning Victor, make yourself comfortable how did you arrive such early? Sit
down please” Dr. Sumukwo was my oncologist and on so many occasions we had been discussing on how best it
would ever be to approach and manage my cancer. He had offered all he could to make me believe that we were
moving in the right direction. Whether it is ethical professionally for medics to assure their patients even in the worst
of circumstances that they will eventually recover is a matter that would invite debate for various reasons. Would it
ever be right to tell a dying man that he was of course dying? and what would happen if eventually he did not die?
Moreover, who is a dying man? I never think it ever sounds pleasant to the recipient and that has made it remain an
age-old saying; “You will get well soon” that is what you will be told when you are a patient. All along I have been
aware that one time I’ll pass on but it would be too remote for my clinician to tell me that I have only that or this long
to live.
In the doctor’s room, there was another person. He wore his beards long and there was some semblance between
the color of his hair and the beards. His white garb left me in awe. He was an authority and I would guess that from
how Dr.Sumukwo consulted with him that he must be a senior oncologist. It did not take long for Sumukwo to give
my history and when finally he said, “Let’s have a look at it”, I could hear literally the beating of my heart I do not
know whether with the ears or the senses. “It does not look all that bad”, he said whilst he massaged my leg. “Have
you given him second line chemo? He asked. Dr. Sumukwo replied in the affirmative that they had with no
improvement. “Then the toe has to go and with chemotherapy I think we’ll be able to arrest it where it is “he offered.
That was another assurance from a medic. Only a toe, was it only a toe?” Nay” my inner self shouted but not anyone
could hear. It was part of me and I had it since birth but now it stood condemned to be amputated so that I could
save the rest of the leg. As they turned down to write all the procedures in my file I let my head fill in with the
amusement that may be later I would call myself THE NINE TOES
“Victor you are going to ward five Ok?” What better thing could I say than a meek” yes “?Dr. Sumukwo was to take
me to the ward and as I limped beside him I had the chance of letting him Know that I had spent a better part of my
life in this town which now was the home of a level five referral hospital. Where now were magnificent buildings used
to be what was then known as Uasin Gishu District Hospital. I could vividly remember that just a few meters from
where we were was the house that had been occupied by Dr. Kijaro, it was where we decided Lillian, and I should
elope as soon as possible to preempt her dad’s plan of taking her elsewhere. In essence, this Hospital meant a lot to
me because it was where our first two children had been born. I had been away from this town for over two decades
now and everything looked so new and good.
When I was finally left at the reception desk of the ward to be given a bed we had a hearty talk with my wife. The
whole place looked clean and sparkling. I preened to look at the cubicle that was nearest, the linen looked clean, and
the beds whose occupants were out were beds spread nicely. My wife mused that perhaps my toe would heal before
they tore it off. It was a period that was short but relatively looked long.
It was almost noon and there was a lot of commotion within the corridors. There were people coming in to see their
kin, others going out to buy some fruits from the fruit stalls around and others looked like they had no business being
there. The day had not worn down and already I had started feeling homesick. As I waited for the ward nurse to take
me to my bed, talking hilariously to my wife so as to give her courage, for in the last few days I had seen her spirit sink
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Walking on the cold embers
slowly, for some reasons I tended to believe that it was for the fear of losing her husband when she needed him
most. Several times she had asked me what I thought would become of our young family should the cruel hand of
death take either of us or both. My answer was always short “Let a river take its own course and dear let us cross that
bridge when we come to it.” May be to that end I had succeeded in calming her down, limiting the questions, but I
would never fail to see her looks of doubt. We had formed a bond about us that was tearing us to smithereens in the
seeming inescapable predicament. I was awakened from the reverie of my thoughts and showy display of happiness
by the voice of a man beside me. When I looked up in the direction of the voice, my gaze rested on a tall man with a
bag over his shoulder, looking keenly at my foot. He asked me even before he introduced himself a question that has
not gone off my brain to date. “What has brought you here and what do you want Mr.? I had been prepared for such
a question and I had a ready answer. “My oncologist said, a surgeon has got to remove the bad toe” I am ashamed
that the men of book who have seen many with various conditions worse than mine or better succumb could be so
rude. “If it is the toe, let him do it” he remarked and left unceremoniously as he had come. Both of us had nothing to
say in reply and we watched his departure with likely the same feeling. “What an insolent unkind man”. I did not
intend but I did hang a cloud over the head of my wife by saying, “I don’t think am getting out of the theatre alive if
that is my surgeon. He seems to want to cut more of me than would be necessary”.
“Come, follow me” was the kind words of the nurse I heard thereafter. The cubicle was full, which meant I was going
to share a bed and I did not know with whom that would be. For as long as I do not remember, I have always believed
that to complain less, and if to, last is the most healthy habit. This was the start of a long wait. What that unkindly
man had said seemed to grow from moment to moment. The old man with whom I had to share the bed had
orthopedic clamps on his leg, left leg that for a time made me wonder if it was just a coincidence that both of us had
problems on our left legs. Some innate part of me that has always taken charge of matters went into overdrive. I was
not going to allow my condition let me look sicker than anybody. The other occupants of other beds had themselves
chained to their beds in one way or another. If it was not a clamp of any sort then it was some weights attached to
any part of their limb and suspended beside the beds. Each one of them was in such a sorry state. For a time I almost
forgot that, some part of me would be gone, amputated to save albeit the remaining parts. We sat on the bed beside
the old man, my wife spoke and what she said was more of disheartening than anything. ”Daddy, you will have to
put up with a lot of ugly instances in this ward but take courage Jehovah will never ever abandon us. Look around
keenly please and see how pathetic their situations are and look at the unattended urinals beneath the beds” For the
first time I came to a realization of where the acrid smell of urine was coming from. More than half of the number
seemed not to be able to move. I had a mixture of feelings that are indescribable but my wife continued speaking.
What she said set torrents flowing in my soul. She would not know that I was putting up a face for her sake and as if
to strew salt over an open wound she said something which has always made me cry silently whenever I’m alone.
“Daddy, why didn’t God make it possible that spouses share or carry pain for one another? Perhaps today I would
have carried it for you” To say anything further by any of us would have made it worse. We had somehow learnt to
speak to one another at the right time and that was that. Through the years, she had learnt not to make me have
more pain than it would be necessary. She did not know that for more than seven years now I had been tearing
myself into pieces, regretting all the things I done unbecoming to her. Perhaps my growth had got a lot to do with
how I concealed my feeling, regrets and other concerns and only reveal them to anyone I deemed fit and with the
right amount of information that I felt would not jeopardize my interests. There is no way I am going to do justice to
anyone by not being very genuine to my loving family, friends and strangers who might read my story without delving
deep into some of my past life spinning the same into the fabric of what has made me what I strongly believe I am
now, perhaps later than now.
When time came to bid my wife farewell for the day, I knew she was going but would not have a wink that night. She
was to put up with her younger brother who was now a resident of this town where they grew up, went to school
and eventually got married to me.
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The next morning after a hectic night, brought professional conflict between the surgeon and the oncologist. The
oncologist wanted ONLY the toe removed but the surgeon wanted more than that, to be precise, the forefoot. As
they traded their disagreements of opinion without ever consulting me on how I felt and wished to be handled, I had
to wait for another six days. Throughout this period, my wife would come in the early hour of the day, stay with me
until it was dusk, and then leave. Mushrooming from the blues came some thoughts that I had never considered. I
only know that our lives depended on one another and that all the inherent changes that would come had to affect
mostly both of us and eventually spilling to the entire family and if anything to my best friend Michael with whom we
had become so closely-knit.
I can vividly remember how the Sunday the 18th, April 2010, was a cold and gloomy day. My wife had left the
previous day to check on the welfare of the children and to try to get some more funds, for the hospital bill kept on
growing by the day. Around 10.00a.m, the head Surgeon came into the ward to check on a patient he had operated
on the previous night and just as he was leaving, I called him softly. He came looking at me solemnly and asked the
kind of a question I had wanted him to ask. “How can I help you whilst your oncologist does not want to listen to
reason?” This was the chance I was waiting for, and looking him in the face straight, I told him that my leg was mine
and all boils to my decision on how I want it treated. This prodded him to ask, “Are you saying that we proceed with
the operation the way we deem fit?” “Yes, yes” I answered. He did not leave before issuing instructions that I be
prepared for surgery next day. I immediately took my phone and called my wife informing her that the D-day had
finally arrived. There were some other people to inform too and before the nurse came in with the further
instructions I had started imagining how one looks in a theatre.If one is to be operated on, you have to fast. I was
forbidden from taking anything, even the plentiful fruits, which my religious brothers had kept on bringing day in, day
out as they came to console me. That day was short and long in its own way. I had a mixture of apprehension and
fear. Before the surgeon had left, we had made a bond between us. He even addressed me in my first name, which
made feel at ease. He said to me, “Victor I am going to make sure you remain with a stamp which you could push into
a shoe someday”. I was elated the end was nigh. I marveled at how people who face same problem offer a lot of
support and an overview of things. As the day wore off my fasting continued. What was before me was unique. One
of my brothers-in-law came in the evening and wished me well. I cannot fail to mention that the night before, a
young boy, about seventeen years old had been taken to the theatre but it took a better part of the night before he
was brought back but in a bad shape than he had gone. I do not know what his ailment was but I was sad that the
same morning I had smiled at him and he nodded while I went to the washrooms. He died before it was morning. I
kept on wondering what would become of me, would I fail to regain consciousness and die like him? or mine would
be different? A feeling of emptiness coupled with the fear of the unknown crept in and I sensed that I had to do
something. The relatives of the deceased heaped blames on God, that he had taken their loved one away so youthful.
I could not consolidate two aspects of human thinking, how could a loving God provide for you and at the same time
deprive you of the same? Causing you pain and sadness? Who was to blame for this death? God or man? The medics
tried their level best to help preempt that very death. It was unreasonable to blame neither the deities nor man for
what befalls people. I turned towards the window and gave myself some amusement by counting how many men and
women passed bye that window in a day. I also remembered that we had agreed with my wife that our son would
come to take care of me and he was to arrive the next day. I do not know when I fell asleep but by five o’clock, I was
awake. The housekeepers would arrive in thirty minutes time. Shortly before they arrived, my sister-in-law, Joyce
came. She was early but I remembered that I’d asked her the previous evening to be early enough. Seeing her was
good for my morale. She had to take my Phone and I instructed her not to switch it off at any time.
When I saw a stretcher at six o’clock I knew they had come for me.”Bed five, Victor, Please can you undress?” One of
the nurses said. I fumbled out of the hospital garb that I had been given and remained with the vest, as I watched her
draw the curtains that separate the beds from one another. She repeated with finality “Everything off! In addition,
from their looks I knew that in their line of duty they had seen enough appendages that they may not pay attention
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to a particular one. As I removed the undergarments, one of the nurses volunteered to help me. I stripped and threw
all into my bag that was hanging on the bedpost. Now I was ready but what they deed next prepared me for what lay
ahead. One of the nurses had a silvery container from which she removed a moist, but warm towel that she scrubbed
me all over after which they helped into a green clean robe with strings and tied at the back. They asked me to lie on
my back and with much ease as if I was a toddler they lifted on to the stretcher and covered me with linen They were
very polite and just before they pushed away the trolley the one who was on my left side looked at my sister-in-law
and reached for my hand. In a moment I thought she was cueing me to bid her bye but no, She reached for my ring
finger, removed the ring and gave it silently to her. They both smiled but inwardly I knew her guess was right and
wrong. I had a ring yes but, the girl she smiled at had nothing to do with it. My wife was miles away perhaps praying!
From ward five to the Theatre, they wheeled me without talking either to themselves or to me. It was so eerie and I
thought that perhaps they were uneasy. It was an organized procedure that has strict rules. As if the door sensed
our coming it was opened and alas! What a cool light. They handed over my file to a certain nurse who received us at
the door and that was the further they reached. Another trolley and the shifting of me to it by two gloved nurses. The
scene kept on changing as I was wheeled further in to what I later knew to be the waiting bay. This common waiting
bay receives patients from different wards for different surgeries in the various theatres. There was a desk at one end
with a nurse always on phone. I wondered if she was a nurse or a receptionist. She was either calling this or that ward
to bring patient or to come for the other patient. From my observation, I started noticing difference. None was asking
other to do anything. It was a place where everybody knew his duty or work to say. They also wore different color of
robes, green, blue, purple etc. I kept looking at the radiant soft white ceiling and thought to myself that from all the
calls I heard, none mentioned the morgue to come for one client, though other trolleys passed with their occupants
covered all over so grotesquely. As I waited patiently, I heard footsteps and I looked the direction of the footsteps. A
tall, young man with a broad smile was moving towards me with his hands behind his back. He introduced himself,
“my name is Wabwire, am your anesthesiologist, how are you feeling” he asked finally. He continued,” I’ve been
notified that you declined blood transfusion and for that matter we want to make sure that you have enough fluids in
your system before we proceed to the theatre” Whilst he said this he had gotten hold of my arm and was cleaning
with a swab the back of my hand. A nurse joined him beside me. She was carrying a plate on which there was a
needle. He took such a short time to find the vein and I wondered how experienced hands make work easier than
many hands. An intra-venous bottle was attached to the giving set, and within a very short time, I could look and see
the dripping of the fluid from the bottle. He offered some information that proved very useful to me. He said, “With
the amputation we could give you light anesthesia or heavy anesthesia depending on your choice” I asked him
immediately what would make me choose one over the other. He gave me two reasons, one, light anesthesia would
be friendly to my pocket and two; it would let me remain awake throughout the operation. These two reasons were
strong enough to convince me. I wanted to be a party in my operation and to feed my eyes with all that goes in a
theatre. I opted for light anesthesia and he embarked on telling me how he was going to administer the chosen
anesthesia. He said, “Because am going to put it into your spine you would need to be very calm so that I do not
cause you a lifelong problem. From his tone, I knew what that meant and as he asked the nurse to bring the rest of
the things, he went into an uncertain silence. He never spoke, not until the nurse rejoined him. She brought with
herself a container that they put beside me on the wheeled trolley. He pressed a button somewhere and I felt the
trolley lift up. He got hold of the head side and started wheeling me behind him as we went through many corridors.
As we passed one of the rooms, there was a sweet aroma of cooking food, which reminded me that I had eaten
nothing since yesterday. The nurse followed sheepishly and at some time, she was looking at my face after looking at
my feet and noting that I had caught her she pretended to push the trolley. The further you moved the cooler it
became, as we passed one of the rooms I saw many men and women, dressed in white attire all from the boots to
the head gears. The trolley moved so first that I did not have much time to see and recognize any of the faces. The
trolley stopped before a beautiful, shiny wooden door. As the door opened wide for the trolley and its cargo to go
through, I could see that the group we had passed behind had come out and were moving towards us.
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I was wheeled in so fast and my gaze was met by the wonder of technology. This was the theatre, monitors lined the
walls all sides, and in the middle of the room was an operating couch. I was helped onto that couch. The other was
pushed into an adjacent room. Above the couch hung some five big lighting bulbs but they were not alight, otherwise
it would blind one. It was an adventure because I was going to have a conversation with them while they did their
work on me. The signals from the monitors were scaring; some were spiraling horizontally while others were just
bleeping. I had only seen this kind of a scene in movies. It never occurred to me that one day it would be me; in a
theatre; on an operating table and very much awake to share part of the experience. One of them started explaining
to me what these electronic devices were. As he pointed to one of them he said “This we use to monitor your blood
pressure, the other one monitors your oxygen intake and this one directly over your head helps us to know how
much blood you are losing” It was an experience of its own and I marveled at the wonder of science. From the corner
of my eyes, I could see movements into the room, and finally the door closed and the surgeon stepped beside my
bed. Even though he had introduced himself while I was with him in the ward the other day, he did it again calmly
and introduced the other surgeon with whom they were going to do the work. He never introduced other members
of the team though each one of them had a specific reason to be there. As they lifted the helms of the robe I had
been dressed in to make a curtain to obscure my sight from my feet I felt a surge of shame engulfing me, due to the
presence of the female members of the team. I knew without doubt that all that was my nakedness was before their
eyes. I tried to preoccupy my mind by telling the young man who was close to me that I am HIV positive, a fact I knew
very well was in my file but saying it was some sort of a “take care” caution to the whole lot. He was neither amused
nor shocked. Seemed like all the days they had been hearing the same statement and he continued unabatedly
sticking to my arms and chest gadgets that are connected to the monitors. I was not able to see my feet, and the
surgeon asked me to raise my feet up, which to me seemed like it was happening, but his soft laughter made me
know that the anesthesia I had been given had taken effect and that by asking me to raise up my feet was just to test
out the extent of success to the procedure. Suddenly I had a soft hum of an electric machine. Because I could not see
it, I could not know exactly what it was. Could it be an electric saw? On the other hand, it was not my business to
know a machine or whatever implement they were going to use to dismember me. This was the ending effect and
ravages of HIV, because the experts say my kind of cancer is a defining illness of HIV.
Kaposi’s sarcoma, they had called it. They say this kind of cancer is caused by a virus called herpes Human virus 8.
When your CD4 count drops lower than 200 copies/mm, then it manifests itself. I find it hard to believe this kind of
argument because I had started having lesions or nodules way back in 2001. I was to test and know my HIV status
four years later and the first CD4 cell count I took was 480cells/mm, more than double the threshold for this kind of a
scenario. All the same, that was the biopsy result. What had seemed so small and harmless had now become a life
threatening condition. My body had thus acquired a foreign mechanism with which it was destroying itself step by
step rapidly. The name cancer has long been associated with death and life shortening. Those who cross the line of
law and end up before juries to be tried, I wonder what their experience and feelings are when the verdict is death
sentence. Even if they were ever the worst of criminals and violent indeed there has to be some remorse when they
have to swallow the same medicine, which may be, they would have not wanted to swallow. I mean no one wants to
die even if there is a just cause for the same. We all want to know that we are going to live longer and even medics
who may in essence know that a particular patient is going to pass on in a short moment in the near future may feel
hopeless if they have to tell the patient so. Living and dying is universal and obvious but the feelings we have vary
from one individual to another. Many have written about how to cope with the loss of one who is our own in death
and how to cope with conditions that lead to death. These authorities never mention the most and fundamental
basic tenet of existence, rather they justify coping by configuring religious beliefs. I do not want to challenge any
authority about belief because am also a believer in something somehow; that which make want to live and not to
die. Perhaps I even sound weird when I say that I have never felt inclined to dig deeper to find real meaning of death.
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I was not going to let fear of what I do not know bother me. I have seen many dead people but from my perspective, I
do not know what it really is. All that I have read and heard during my adult life is enough to conclude that people are
normally afraid of what they do not know and that fear of the unknown make them to shy away from discussing
death with freedom. I feel duty bound to say that whoever keeps away from this subject is trying to console himself
by silence. One thing was leading to another, I am HIV positive and that has led to this cancer of the blood vessels and
the lymphatic system.
I was through with the amputation in a matter of minutes, in fact half an hour to be precise. I still lay on my back, on
the operating couch. As they trooped out of the room, I preened to look at them probably to see if they were carrying
the part of me with them. In the same breath, I counted them as they exited. One, two, three, four, five males and
three females. A team of eight for amputation of a fore foot? Ridiculous, that was too many a number. Perhaps, some
were interns. The door opened once more and the fellow who gave anesthesia came in. “ Victor all is well with you
and now we got move to the recovery room” he said as opened the door leading to an adjacent room into which he
had kept a trolley which brought me here. It was time to be moved! My fore foot gone. Time had come to rewind, to
review the past and live then. It was a past that was part of the present. A past that was mixed up and messed. You
have to be prepared to walk ragged to see through it in eye and mind. Oh!
1971
Traveling from Kericho to Kisumu was a memorable journey I will never forget. I was six years old and we were going
home for my grandmother’s funeral. My dad was not travelling with us. He remained behind to follow later. We had
boarded a bus at Kericho Town. By then it seemed to me that we had been living in Kericho since my birth. Truly, a
six-year old boy cannot remember everything that ever happened in detail apart from what interests him most. It was
a grueling journey on very bad roads and I would cling to Mom every time the vehicle bumped into and out of a
pothole. Perhaps what made me like that journey most was the shoes on my feet. These were my first shoes, at least
the ones I could remember. I have always taken mother untruthful whenever she says that I had others apart from
these. These ones were made of black canvas and had laces to tie them. Made by Bata and christened Hockey. I do
not know why they are called hockey up to now. Whenever we passed a roadblock, I would again cling to my mother.
I feared the police officers. They were tall, and wore khaki shorts and carried guns. At some of the roadblocks, they
would command everyone to go out of the bus and the luggage would be searched. I did not know what they were
looking for. Mom would hold me as I clung to her trembling at the sight of the police. She would later use it to
threaten me,”hey Odera get off that muddy water or I’ll call the police!” she would shout and I would stop
immediately. She used that ploy to get me do whatever she felt I ought to do and these were many. Do not climb that
tree, do not close that door, finish that food and a lot others that kids like doing. When we alighted at Kisumu, we
took another old bus that left behind it a trail of dust mixed with smoke from the exhaust pipe.
My maternal grandfather was a polygamist. He had three wives and three others whom he had inherited upon their
husbands’ death. My grandmother was the first wife. I cannot recall ever seeing her at any time alive. My mother too
is the first daughter in that homestead. News of our arrival had reached home very long before us. I can still recall the
kind of wailing there was when we reached home. Her brothers’ wives and the other wives of her father met us off
some distance from home. Mom was wailing and I was crying because my mother was doing the same just as the
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others too. I could not comprehend as to why there was a lot of noise. The men ran towards us with spears and clubs.
At one point, I thought they were going to attack us but when they reached us, they would stop and turn back
shouting war cries. It is weird but that is the culture of my people and I would soon get used to it. My grandma had
been buried a day earlier. My mother fell and rolled on the mound that was the grave. When finally everyone calmed
down my grandfather greeted us. I usually wonder how long it had taken me to know what they meant ,”your
grandma is dead” because My mother still remembers how each morning I would wake up and ask why did they have
to bury her mother. I am told by a score many others that I would request for a hoe to get her out. I had never come
into close contact with anything to do with death. At one time, I was caught trying to dig the grave of my grandma. It
was a taboo to do the same and I was to undergo a cleansing ceremony. My mother sealed up my case by telling me
that the next time she would catch me near that grave she would call the police who would not only take me away
but also beat me and use their guns on me and I would be dead as her mother. After a week or so, there were
preparations because my father was coming to mourn his mother in law. There was a lot of cooking being done.
Chairs were brought from the neighbors and I kept on asking mom how my father was going to use all the chairs. By
afternoon he had not arrived and to me it seemed like was not going to come either. Finally, in the evening there was
shouting and war cries. The same kind of things I had seen the day we arrived erupted again. Culture and tradition at
work. My father, his cousins and a score of other women who came with him stormed the home. After running
around as if they were chasing something, they all congregated around the grave, bowed their heads, and shortly
thereafter went to take their seats that had been arranged by the fence. Other men who were with my father carried
loudspeakers. To me this was an experience that would take too long to comprehend its real meaning. Within a very
short time a music system had been put up, wires connected to the speakers and then they started dancing every one
of them in his own style. My father and two other uncles of mine remained sitting. I wanted to see him stand up and
dance but he would not do that. It was also a taboo for him to get up and dance whilst his in laws were watching. He
would dance of course but later when all the elderly people had gone to sleep or had entered into the huts to drink
the local brew that was there in abundance. I cannot recall whether I waited, long to see him dance but eventually
after eating, I went to sleep. They were staying overnight and would not enter any house but dance and drink. The
night had been too short, because as I woke up in the morning, everybody was gone save for a few who were dead
drunk and were left lying on what had been the dance arena. My maternal uncles either were returning the
borrowed chairs or were clearing the compound of empty cigarette packets. It looked like what they did was drink
and smoke. After breakfast, I was being prepared. My mother was not in a good mood and I could sense it from the
way she shoved me hither tither as she scrubbed me vigorously. I did not know I was just about to take a journey that
would have adverse effects on my life. I was unaware of what was to happen to me. Mom fed me and packed my few
belongings in a bag. Because my mother was also dressed it first looked as if both us would leave together. My
grandfather gave me a ten-cent coin and bid me bye. The command he gave as Mom and I left was to shade some
light on what lay ahead. “Take the boy to his father and come back immediately”. My mother answered neither that
she would come back immediately nor that she was taking the boy to his father.
The market place that we met at dad is the same one we alighted the day we came. The many old women and men
we met seemed to know mom. They would talk lengthily asking whether there was rain in Kericho and so many other
minute things that had no meaning to me. The ten-cent coin was of value and looking at the things I could buy with it
then is what a hundred shillings can buy today. We sat on some boulders by the roadside. This is where she broke the
news of what would make her remain behind. “Your father did not give your grandpa as much as he wanted, and now
my people insist that he give out a cow as fine that is when my father will allow me to come join you”. I was afraid
but she continued speaking, “your father will take good care of you, I want you to be a good boy, I may come soon or
later or may be never” My heart was broken, I started crying and as I continued to sob she kept on speaking. I do not
remember a word of what she said while I sobbed. I held on to my mother and beseeched her not to allow dad to
take me away. My father arrived and he took me by force. I cried as we boarded a bus, Cried all the way to Kisumu.
My world had been torn asunder and I would not listen to his deep voice as he warned that he would drop me out of
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the moving vehicle. The candies he bought had no power to stop me from feeling the fear that was in me. All the time
I remember that I had to go to sleep before he came back and I was afraid nobody would cook for and bathe me. A
dent had been made in my life. Soon we reached where there was a roadblock and the sight of the police officers
made me go silent. From then on, I resigned to a life without a mother. I never looked out the window or felt the
passage of time. I was very confused. How could they do this to me? Why did my grandfather not allow mom to come
along? What did he expect of my father? Had my father done anything wrong when I slept when they came to
grandma’s funeral? It was ridiculous, but that is what happens to thousands of children even to date. I was somehow
better off because my mom was alive and she had promised that she would come. I felt resentment because she had
also said she might never.
Our house in Kericho was in an Estate called Kitumbe. I do not know how long it had taken to reach it but we finally
came to it. I was exhausted and tired from the tedious journey. I went to sleep and later rudely awoken to be fed.
Even the food that dad gave me had no taste to me. My dad was a machine operator in the factory and they worked
in shifts, sometimes he would leave very early in the morning and be away for eight hours, then he would come back
make some food for himself and me. Other days he would be home in the morning and go away in the afternoon. He
would come back at 10.00 o’clock in the night, he asked me to leave the window open so he would prod me with a
stick to get up and open the door. I had become a latch key boy. I would do the dishes and get praised for it. A shell
was in the making and day by day, it became hard. After some time I remember dad sitting me down for what I
should say was to give more insight to his situation or our situation. I was too young to know why people separate
from their spouses and here dad was trying to tell me why they separated. It made no sense to me. Mom had said
she may come and had said that she may never come. Momentarily he was trying to blame it on mom and her father
that it was the making of my mother and granny that he request for a cow. Dad had paid dowry but he had not given
his in-laws a female cow. My auntie who was my mother’s younger sister was readying for marriage and my father
had to give out a female cow so aunt’s suitor would be able to bring all manner of cow be they male or female. He
was told me to get used living without my mom.
What does a cow have to do with me? They had validated the marriage, I needed mom at least. All the other children
in the Estate had mothers or their mother had gone home to harvest and after a short time, they would appear again
carrying loads of food for their families. Dad told me that his mom had left him when he was my age, and that he
grew up without her. Was he implying that I should forget my mom? Did mom mean nothing to him? I found a world
of my own. The other children we played with became caretakers to me. They would hide in their short pockets
anything edible and give it to me. We played games and ran around the estate. After a few days dad became very
harsh and sometimes he would stay out long and come back drunk. My life started becoming very bad, for many a
night I would go to sleep without eating because there was nothing to eat. My mother had never left me without
food and alas! My dad was doing exactly that. Was he doing this to me register his displeasure for being denied his
wife. Our meals became very straight. That was “ugali” and some kind of sun-dried fish that he would roast over the
charcoal burner and in a matter of minutes we would be eating then he would leave be it day or night. My beatings
became very frequent and harsher. My trust for him started to wear off and in its place came mistrust. I knew that
inwardly I felt disappointed with him but I made sure he never knew it. I would play while he was away but remain
withdrawn in his presence. Because all the children were going to school, I did not wait for him to take me to school.
One morning I did prepare myself and joined one of my friends to school. He had been very kind to me and I trusted
his word when he said that we go school. It must have been a Tuesday, because I came to learn that they would go to
the assembly on Mondays and Fridays only. All the teachers who came into class never realized that there was a new
boy in class. My friend had given me an exercise book and we used a razor blade to cut his pencil into two pieces, one
for him and the other for me. Even my father did not know that for three days I had been going to school. Come
Friday and the assembly time gave me out. Everyone had a school uniform and I did not. The head teacher noticed
me and asked me to come forward. All the others were looking at me. I longed for world to sink for he carried a cane
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in his hands and I knew what kind of pain it would cause. He did not shout at me as my father used to do but when I
came within an arm’s reach he stretched his arms and caught my head softly. He continued to speak as he fondled
my head. I could not understand what he was speaking out for I was busy making up my mind how I would escape his
punishment. He dismissed the assembly and as others ran to class, he bent down to eye level and asked me my
name, and I told him. “I don’t remember seeing your Parents come to my office neither did I see you, when did you
come to my school? Before I could answer, he asked another question “and who told you to come? And what class
are you in?” The questions were many and I did not know which to answer first. Moreover, he had said, “My school” I
thought I was in the worst situation ever. When I opened my mouth to speak, I looked down at his shiny black shoes,
and said that I do not have a mother and that we lived with my father only. He asked what my father’s name was and
I gave. “What or where does your father work at?” I said that he worked at the factory. The next question was rather
painful, “and what happened to your mother?” It was a question that opened a wound. I did not know that I had
started crying but tears were rolling down my cheeks. With my father, I would have earned a good beating but
instead he knelt down, going down with one knee and held me to his chest and let me cry. A couple of school
teachers who had remained behind to watch what would happen to me started to move away, and when I calmed
down, the head teacher stood up and held my hand as he gently led me through the corridors. He held me so gently
and was not in a hurry to drag me fast behind him. When we came to his office, he left my hand and fumbled for the
door keys. After opening the door, instead of going in first he pushed me inside gently and followed me in, closing the
door behind him.
“My name is Mr. Kemboi and I am the headmaster of this school”. “Tell me what happened to your mother”. As I
narrated everything including the dance my father and other uncles came for at my grandmother’s place he listened
quietly looking at me politely. I do remember Mr. Kemboi with a lot of respect owing to the fact that he would play a
fatherly role to me. Behind his huge chair were cupboards against the wall. He rose up and opened one of them. I
marveled at the well-arranged books in them. From one drawer he pulled out various school shirts of different sizes.
He asked me to try some on so that he could see which fitted. As I put out my shirt with which I had come from home
in, he noticed the string from which hang the key to the door. He asked politely what the key was for. I told him that
key was for our door. He asked another question that was equally heartrending. “Who cooks or give you food when
you get home?” I told him the truth, because truth it was that I wait for dad to come from work and if he does not
come home right away, I do without food. My dad had previously warned me that I should not ever go into any
house, or to eat any food given by anyone. In as much as the decree was for my good it was also very punitive. I have
wondered in my adult life why in the name of Christ he could not leave cooked ready food for me. My friends from
the estate would make sure that they bring me any little thing they could pick behind their parents back. When finally
I did find a shirt that fits the headmaster led me to class. By that time, he had learned enough on how I had come to
be in his school. He still held my hand as I followed obediently. The class he took me to was not the one my friend
and I had been in together. As we, both entered the class all pupils stoop up and responded to his greeting. He had
opened the door and said, “good morning class”. A deafening, “good morning Sir” followed. “Sit down” and the class
answered with a louder, “Thank you sir” Mr. Kemboi found for me a place to sit and started to teach the class. It was
language lesson and it is still vivid in my memory how we repeated after him the letters of the alphabet. When the
lesson ended, he remembered to ask me to go to his office and pick my shirt later. The math’s teacher who came in
after him would also take a liking to me. My mother had long taught me how to count my fingers correctly and I knew
all the answers he asked. My hands were up before anybody when he would ask “one plus three”; “two plus five” so
on and so forth. The day wore of so fast and when lunch break came, I ran to pick my shirt. Mr. Kemboi had
anticipated my coming and had my shirt on his hand by the time I reached his office. Before he gave me the shirt he
told me to ask my father to see him on Monday first thing, “remember to ask him to buy a school short for you and a
spare shirt”, he said finally.
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I ran home happy. I had gotten my school by myself, my first school shirt without my parents’ involvement. I was a
man, an independent man. On occasions dad had told me, “you are a man I want you to behave like a man”. I
thought today would be the day to prove to him that I was what he said I should be. I did not know that my uniform
would stir my father’s anger. In my innocence, I did not put off that shirt and luck was not on my side that day. My
father came in shortly after me. He was not amused by my shirt and thinking that perhaps one of the neighbors had
given it to me, he ordered. “Return that shirt to wherever house you got it from and come back here immediately
with your pants off, today I am going to make sure that your buttocks ache in a big way that you will ever remember
for the rest of your life. I looked up at him and answered politely. “Daddy, this school shirt is mine and it is Mr.
Kemboi who gave it to me and he said that you see him on Monday first thing and mind to buy me a short and a
spare shirt. Dad was vexed beyond control. He descended on me as a tornado. Hitting me with his fists, that one
would think he was fighting a grown man like himself. The beating was so severe that somewhere in between I
stopped crying for help but begged for mercy. He left the house to find a cane with which to accomplish his task. He
came back immediately with It and the beating began again. I Stopped asking for mercy and stopped crying. If he
were deaf, not to have heard my pleas then nothing would stop him. As the cane rose and fell on me mercilessly with
speed and rage, he uttered despicable obscenities. My punishment was not for my error only. When he mentioned
my mother and her father, I knew I was carrying my mom’s torture stake. He was mad, insane and I was sane. I had
mysteriously developed coping mechanism, an extra thicker skin to cushion me from this brutality. May be he
realized that he was getting nowhere by that and stopped. The cane had been reduced to short sticks. He pulled off
his belt and I waited for it. The more he used it the lesser the painful it became. From then hence forth, I never cried
when any punishment was meted on me. I learnt to loathe him inwardly without showing it on my face. The
interrogation he subjected me to, only proved to him that he had abdicated his responsibility as a parent. I was
School –age but he had never taken me to school, bought any school uniform but here he was battering me as if I was
an animal. This occasion would come to haunt me at puberty and I joined a Tae-kwon-do club when I reached high
school with an intention of avenging myself one day.
At age six, I had suffered because of my mother and I wanted so much to go away somewhere none would ever find
me. Living under single parentage has this kind of challenge. It had shoved me into defiance. My aim was to prevent
such a thing happening again. At age seven, I had learnt many survival tricks. His coming home drunk became
frequent. Sometimes he would bring along different women at different times, but never did I call any Mom as he
said. He made me play meek in his presence and truant in his absence. He came to school the day he was supposed
to come though I do not know what transpired between him and the head teacher. He was the authority in the
house, could bring food if he felt like. The life we had spent with him with my mom had been shattered. I was
determined to please my teachers. I was top of my class that very first term and continued to hold that position all
through. I do remember one time he came home drunk after the team he was playing in as a goalkeeper had won. In
the middle of the night, he banged the door as if he wanted to break in. I would not malign him to anyone though it
was clear as day and night that he was not a good father. No one outside our house ever saw the things happening to
me. The night he came in the middle of the night after a win, something absurd happened to him. He started
vomiting, and I swore to myself that I was not going to clean the vomit. He had been treating me brutally and in some
way, I had adopted his style of doing things. When morning came before he could wake up and order me to clean the
stinking murk of vomit, I sneaked out and headed to school. At class two, I was getting along superbly with the
teachers and loved my schoolwork. When he woke up he found my absence and he was going to clean his vomit. In
the process of cleaning, he tripped and fell on his arm and was fractured. I was to come home and find him writhing
in pain. He was crying. It would have been my time to celebrate his tragedy but I did not and he noticed. Up to that
moment, he had not thought of going to the hospital for treatment. He was trying to fix his arm but it was not
possible. It made a funny curve few inches below the elbow like a boomerang. Seeing him in pain made me ask why
he could not go the hospital. The hospital was a walking distance from the factory and he had to walk there while I
trailed after him. He never asked me to go back home but real drama was waiting for him at the hospital. When we
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reached the hospital, he was sweating and tired. I had to wait out while he was being reviewed. He was admitted and
I had to walk back to the house alone. Because he was reeking of whatever drinks he had taken the previous evening
I could hear as I waited outside the doctor on call tongue-lashing him for being drunk to an extent of breaking his
arm. It was his chance to feel as others felt about pain. The staying in hospital was good for me because shouting and
abuses would cease for some time. His friends came to my aid and fed me while he was hospitalized. Some of them
would give me money to take to him. Others brought me cooked food and fruits. The mother to my friend through
whom I had gained access to school allowed us to be sleeping together at our house. He led his class while I
dominated ours.
I played the place of mom, visiting him every single day in hospital. When he was discharged, his arm was in a sling
and he arrived home in my absence. The doctor’s report caused him chaos with his employer. I remember leaving
him in the house in the morning while I went to school but when I came back, he was not in the house. I was
preparing myself for the worse when I heard him coming. With him was one of his friends; but when they entered the
house I knew that something sinister had happened to him. He was complaining bitterly, he had been sacked and was
to pick his dues from the labor department in two days’ time. That evening when his friend left, he called me to him
and told me he wanted to talk to me. What he told me made me cry. He wanted me not to let anyone know that we
would be leaving when he eventually got his payment. We would leave incognito because he had so many debts and
he was not going to pay back. I heard him lie to the fishmonger that he will get his pay at the end of the month and
that he would pay every single penny he owed her. After the woman left, he had a hearty laugh and called that
woman silly. I thought of betraying him but that would be dreadful mistake to make. He got the pay yes and bought
me a pair of trousers, the few he did in his lifetime. There was one person I could not leave out of the secret. That
was my friend Walter or Wally as he was called by everyone. Without him, I would have not been to school. In
addition, both us broke down and cried. I had been exposed to abuse and lies; it was not easy to set me free from this
vice. When the day arrived that, we were to leave dad made me lock him in the house during the day while he packed
things we could carry away. I was under strict instruction to stay away for as much as I could until it was dark. When I
returned from watching the television from the social hall, he seemed ready and I thought we would leave
immediately. By midnight when everyone had gone to sleep, he started ferrying the luggage and hid the luggage in
the tea plantations. That part of the night I kept vigil and the short moments I slept, was on dad’s coat spread on the
floor.
The last luggage to be ferried was I and that was done around three o’clock in the morning. We left the house empty.
It was nearly two years since we had come back with dad and I longed to see mom. We had to sit in the tea
plantations before the vehicle came. Dad had become a little humane since he broke his arm and he had not healed
fully. He made me sit on his lap as we waited it was not long before we saw headlights and dad came out to the
roadside. The vehicle stopped and the tout helped dad carry our luggage to the roadside. The tout was strong and
they worked so quickly and within a short time all the luggage was up the vehicle. Finally, the vehicle was off and dad
breathed easy. Before long, I was asleep on his lap. It was mid-morning when we reached Kisumu and I woke. The bus
park at Kisumu is not only a place where people board vehicles but also a business place. Hawkers with toys would
give me one expecting that I would stick and make my father pay. I knew better than that. My father would never buy
you a toy and I would not bring out his wrath in such a place. I would look at the toys and return them to the owners.
In the last two or so years, I had transformed into something between an adult and a child. The repeated beatings
had made me harder, hunger was the usual thing and I remember one time we sneaked to the forest and found some
plant that looks exactly like bananas but on peeling, we found that they had black seeds. We ate it and we did not
die. I was going to see my home, I was excited. I had never eaten an ice cream but dad bought two, one for him and
me. I know he bought it because he wanted to eat.
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HOME COMING
As our journey neared its end, we came to a roadblock. Three police officers, but to my dismay I did not fear them. I
had seen bad days and I had learnt to depend on myself in some many aspects. Fear had been replaced with courage,
truth with lies and most of all will and power engulfed me. Dad had been so brutal that police officers looked polite.
Bus stop at our local market was never missing of any relative, friend or just an acquaintance of anyone alighting
from the buses or vans that plied this route. They always sat there to ferry luggage for people and payment was sticks
of cigarettes.
Coming home was so eventful, I could not recall everyone we met or found at home. From their comments, I realized
that we had left home while I was only a toddler. They would recall how heavy I had been as a baby and how my
mother would carry me on her back all the time. Because of my weight, I had no baby sitter or ayah. Mention of my
mother awoke in me a longing that I would not dare mention to dad as I knew he would give the usual bitter pill. How
he treated me had encased me into a “don’t –ask-do-it yourself” state. Let me explain further, with my dad there was
only one definite answer “don’t” for any permission I would request.
As dad sat to talk to my grandfather, my excursions around the home began. I had developed a penchant for learning
so fast, whatever I could. My adaptation capability had heightened and I was never sick. I absorbed with interest my
surroundings. Mango trees with ripe mangoes, Paw paws, and many other fruit trees. What I saw made me think of
why dad went to work in a tea factory yet there was a lot of food here. Sorghum, maize, finger millet, were all ready
for harvesting. Everything we came with had been moved into one of the huts. My auntie came back from fetching
water from the pond. I had never met her, not anytime I could remember, could be at my infancy. She drew me into a
smaller hut that was the kitchen but was also her bedroom. There was a round pot on the fireplace. It was black from
soot but whatever was being cooked had seeped through and made it look greasy. The aroma of cooking fish, wafted
about the house. Even though I was salivating, I did not betray myself. She left me and within few minutes came back
with three cobs of corn. She asked me whether I liked roast corn. The answer was, yes I did. She seemed to be in
command of everything even the fire beneath the cooking pot obeyed her. We bonded so fast. I recall consuming one
full cob of corn before the second was ready. She carried out her duties with a lot of care. Auntie Anastasia became a
second mother to me. She was loving and understood me well far much better that my own father. She was
concerned that we had eaten nothing since morning. It was barely one o’clock and food was ready. It was also the
first time I saw ugali made from flour that was a mixture of cassava and sorghum. It was brown and elastic. We had
washed our hands and the mound of ugali was in the center. Each of us carried his dish with the left hand and with
right hand attacked the mound. I remained eating as the rest retired or to be precise stopped because they had
exhausted the contents of their dish. Anastasia was encouraging me to pick bigger chunks of ugali. That evening we
went to see an old mother who was called Teresa. She was also my distant aunt. It was a short visit but before we
left, she gave me a hen. She had insisted that because we gave her no time to cook for me as she said, Anastasia was
to prepare that hen for dad and I.
That night after the meal in the bigger hut, I heard my father asking auntie if she had seen my mother. I was all ears
up for the answer. She said, “Even the fish we ate this afternoon we bought from her. She lives by the lake side and
normally brings smoked or dried fish to our market nearly every market day”. Therefore, my mother had become a
fishmonger just like the other woman in Kericho who my dad failed to pay back her money. They did not discuss
further except that my dad issued a warning that he will be leaving in a few days’ time and that at no time should my
mother be allowed to take me anywhere. My grandfather said that I was a man and that men do not follow their
mothers. I was later to know that he was not my real grandfather. He was my dad’s uncle. They brought up my dad
when his father died and grandmother went away and remarried. Our family tree was so complicated. This grandpa
had blue eyes and curly hair. They had been three siblings. My grandfather whom I was called by his name was the
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first and Gregory the blue eyed was the second and the last was called Orima. Their younger brother died at an early
age from the cause that they claimed was black magic by one of our relatives. My grandfather married and had one
son and two daughters. When he also fell sick and died, my grandmother went away leaving my father with his
sisters. Their uncle became afraid because he had just recently got married. So one morning when they woke up from
the hut in which they slept, they found an empty home. My father and his sisters had to fend for themselves. They
had to go from one home to another. This made his sisters marry younger. He claimed to have undergone very bad
childhood and youth but at whose hands he never said. If this was the truth, then history was repeating itself. I later
came to know that it was absolute truth and that my father had passed through many women’s hands as he said.
None was kind and being an orphan he had very little to call his own. When he met and proposed to my mother there
was dissent from my maternal grandfather. The issue was how he would pay dowry. Society being closely-knit as it
was then, one of his uncles said that he would pay for him. My grandfather wanted twelve cows. This uncle of his
paid eight cows and the cause of disagreement was that these were all male cows. The uncle could not do unto him
what he had not done to his own sons. My dad and mom then eloped. There was no ceremony, and so many times
his in-laws threatened that not unless the dowry was paid in full, they would come for their daughter. When she
conceived, the threats stopped. They were left on their own. Both of them were primary school dropouts, my dad
because there was none to pay his schooling fees and my mother because girls were a source of wealth. Whether
girls went to school or not they would be sold out in exchange with cows. After my birth and owing to the fact that
the family was dying off, one after another my father took off to Kericho with his wife and child.
He went deep into the local community and found employment as a farm hand. The language I learnt first was
Kalenjin, one of the languages of the Rift Valley, spoken by highland nilotes. I knew my own mother tongue gradually
because I had only dad and mom to speak to using our language. My mother went into doing business. She brewed
one of the local’s beers. She found a ready market. She at times went up-country and brought with her some of the
farm products that were not cultivated there. She had to discontinue her business when one-night thugs attacked us.
Because I could speak that language fluently and as I played in the house and her customers drank, I overheard one
of them whispering to his fellow that the very night they would return to take away all they had paid. Immediately
they left, I informed my dad and mom about it. I was to be our family’s savior. My father also enlisted the help of few
friends of his. They all took vigil at our house that night. I was deep asleep when the thugs struck but they were
overpowered, resulting in one of them being handed over to the police. This place was no longer safe for us. In a few
days’ time dad had arranged to move to a different location.
He did end up at a tea factory, but he was first employed as a tea picker. This was a job that could only be done by
the uneducated. They would leave in the morning each day to work and my mom being a hard working person tried
her hands once more on business. We had to remain here shortly for there occurred a strike at the factory, and all
those striking were sacked. My father thus found himself being deployed at the factory first as an indentured learner
and later as a machine operator. He held that position up to the time we left due to him being sacked.
My father left home again for Nakuru, and I remained with my foster grandparents and aunt. I got relief; my aunt was
very kind and pleasant to me. I would climb mango trees and pick ripe mangoes and eat without washing. My father
had for a second time abdicated his responsibility, not finding a school for me before he left. I went to school by
myself for the second time. I had waited for auntie to go to the farm to harvest and I hurriedly put on my previous
school’s uniform and shot off. I trailed the other children going to school. By the time I reached the school gate, the
school assembly was going on. I became afraid and hid behind the fence. One of the schoolteachers’ found me here. I
was very conspicuous because I had a blue shirt. I was squatting trying to figure out what I would do next when I
heard a voice behind me. “What do you think you are doing over there young man?” he asked and before I could
answer, he had alighted from his bicycle and was coming towards me. “Whose son are you?” he asked. “I am Ochieng
Odera’s son” I said. He asked me to follow him that I did very obediently. I had learnt a vital lesson; if you want to
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avoid trouble with everyone, do as they say. I had used this weapon severally. He led the way as I followed closely. As
he stood his bicycle against one tree outside the head teacher’s office, one female teacher came out of the office and
looked at me questionably. “Your son?” she asked and walked away. The head teacher was my father’s cousin whom
his father had paid my mother’s dowry. The teacher who found me outside the fence led the way into the office. I
had met him twice but he never mentioned school. He recognized me at once and simply said, “So you’ve come”
They entered into dialogue with the teacher who brought me in asking why I was hiding behind the fence. My uncle
teacher cut him short of the accusations he was preparing to make against me. “No problems Mr. Ounda, just take
him to class. ”In what class were you in your former school” he asked me as he smiled. “Standard two blue sir” I
answered meekly. “Here we have only one class, there is no green, blue, or red”. He stood up and came from behind
his table. It was not as expansive as the one I had seen in Kericho. Mr. Ounda was withdrawing from a cupboard some
textbooks. The head teacher had decided to take me to class himself, and he led the way. As I walked behind him, he
asked me if I had seen my mother and I replied that I had not. When we came to class, two we found the teacher who
had come out of the head teacher’s office when I had been brought in. I followed him in and what first caught my eye
was that none of the children had shoes. They were all barefooted and as I looked at their feet, they were looking at
my feet and canvas shoes admiringly. He spoke to the teacher in undertone and as he made to leave, I was shown a
place to squeeze myself between two boys who moved to make room for me. I was at a second school; from my own
effort. I did not know that hell had broken loose at home because my aunt had come back from the farm to find my
absence. They least suspected that I may have gone to school and a search had started. The three split to look for me.
My grandfather because he was ill had his chair moved near the path used by people going to fetch water or to buy
something from the market. He would ask every passerby if they might have seen me. Some of them had not even
met me. My aunt had gone to look for me at my mother’s home. My grandmother was walking from home to home
asking if anyone had spotted me, and their answer was all the same, they had not. As the day progressed and they
grew tired, lunch break arrived and the schoolchildren were released to go home. I had made friends during break
time by allowing whoever wanted, to try my shoes on.
When I came home in the afternoon instead of being beaten there was jubilation. My aunt later told me that she had
been planning to take me to school herself. I had one book and a pencil. My aunt made me a cloth bag to carry my
book. It was hand sewn from a worn out dress of hers. As I left every morning to school, she would give me
something to carry and eat at break time. She became my tutor in the after school time. She was the only child of my
father’s foster parents. She would tell me stories during the evening when we would be sitting around the fireplace
while she made food. All that I came to know about our clan was from her mouth. She would arrange with my
maternal relatives and I would go to visit them. She would let me stay for a day or two at my mother’s home.
My grandfather seemed to like me but some question remained deep in my mind. If he really did why did he refuse
that mom come back and take care of me? I knew that I hated them most for that, but they did not know. Most of
the time I seemed to find something new to make me hate them. His own son had many wives and neither had he
paid for their dowry as much as my father did. My grandmothers would give me fifty cents and that would last me a
week. As we neared Christmas, I met mother. She had come to visit with her parents and had also brought fish to the
local market. She sent word that she had come and my aunt released me to go see her. What would I say to her,
would I accuse her? As I walked to her home, I had mixed feelings. Even though I was apprehensive but at least today
there was going to be a reunion of its own kind. I had carried my schoolbooks with me that had since increased to
four. All the textbooks belonged to the school and we were not allowed to carry them home at any time save for the
days we were given work to do at home.
Some of my maternal uncles were my age and others slightly older; it seemed as if they had been told to keep an eye
on my coming, because when I approached home they came to meet me. They chanted my name repeatedly “Odera,
Odera, Odera”.This was a signal to my mother and I saw her emerge from one of the huts. She ran to meet me, and
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Walking on the cold embers
so did I. When we met, she hugged me and I found myself crying. It took a long time before we could strike a
meaningful conversation. She had goodies for me. That night I slept at my uncles and the next day I went to school
from there. I had to start relatively early because it was on the other side of the village. I had one shilling with me.
Mom had given it to me to spend at school. Ten cents was enough to give one a big guard of porridge and some
potatoes. You could also buy bananas worth five cents and it was too much for one to eat alone. When we left for
home that afternoon I went straight to my uncles place. Mom had prepared a delicious meal for me and as I ate, she
sat to watch. She did not ask me how things went when I went back to Kericho. I had edited every occurrence of it
and I knew my father better to betray him. The damage had been done and no one could undo it. I could not bear to
trust anyone, my father nor my mother. My father had worked down my esteem and my mother had left me to face
the brutal beatings, hunger and insecurity. I felt an emptiness in me that nobody had access to. My perception of
adults depended on what they did. If one was a teacher he could teach, a doctor could give relief from illness, other
children could bully you if they were older or stronger, mother could abandon you with father and father would do
more damage. In my world, nobody was worth anything, other than what they did. After the meal mom announced
that, she would be leaving for the lakeside where she was presently living. She only asked me what I would want her
to bring next time she came over. My list would have been longer but from what I had been made to become, I
simply said, “bring anything” The only person who seemed to have an eon of concern for me was Aunt Anastasia. As
she packed her things to leave she told me that I was a man and men must always be able to control situations. I do
not remember how long she talked to me but I had closed the ears of my mind, and was busy in my own world in my
mind. I knew I was a boy but both mom and dad had in different occasions called me a man. Could it be that any child
with appendages was a man or was it a phase of males’ life? The word ‘man’ had become a misnomer.
I was to walk her to the market and proceed to my home. As we left for the market, she gave me a ten-shilling note,
which she expected would last me until she came back. I was very proud of that money and I did keep it for nearly
two years. Coming home had made me know my relatives and my auntie’s vocabulary consisted of only titles. Uncle,
mother, father, Aunt, grandmother or father, brother and sister. Of these titles, you could only mention or call by
name a brother or sister. Using the names of the rest others was akin to taboo. When the term ended, I was top of
the class and was promoted to class three and with my position came the privilege of being an office boy. It meant
arranging the books returned for keeping. There was a separate cupboard for teachers’ books. I was also charged
with the responsibility of drawing a list of girls who swept the office. Girls swept, fetched water for teachers, and on
certain circumstances were sexually abused by indecent teachers. As early as in class three we knew who the older
girls in class five, six and seven had relations with. Every single day was an experience. I had become capable of
climbing virtually every fruit tree and had tasted any fruit be it planted or wild.
Gregory my foster grandfather had a certain disease that I do not know. His legs were swollen. There were rumors
that he had been bewitched by one cousin of his. That was what was there to believe. Under instructions from my
aunt, I would not use some footpaths because auntie said that the village magicians did put black magic on them. I
was being trained in the ways of tradition. Many were the taboos, the ‘do’s and ‘don’ts’. It was bad omen even to
throw a stone at certain birds. Life at home was very different from life in town. Under every stressful condition, I
developed same degree of coping mechanism.
Anastasia eloped during my second term of class three and sort of her cores shifted to me. I would be sent to the
market to buy different things and I would fetch firewood every evening for cooking. Her mother, Kristina was short
of hearing and one had to shout every time you were talking to her. I wonder if at all she was making it up, because
for certain Gregory would say whatever he wanted to say less louder but she would still hear him and do exactly what
he needed done. My clothes became dirtier, and at certain times, I would go three to four days without bathing.
However, never did I miss a meal. My mother would appear after two or three weeks but her visits were mainly
business and sometimes by the time I got word that she was around she would already be gone. I had adjusted and
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Walking on the cold embers
learnt to live with grandparents. I had learnt how to make funny sounds from my fellow children with which we used
to scare other younger children sent to the market. We would laugh as any scared child run away shouting for help. I
had no shoes now and my feet had become tough. Since my aunt went away, my sleeping place had shifted from the
hut that served as the kitchen to the main hut. I had only one blanket to cover up myself with while I slept on a mat
spread on the floor .We called it bigger house. There was very few furniture but more big pots to keep grains. My
grandfather felt contented with that life and so did Kristina. I had also learnt how to take especially groundnuts
without permission. In other words, I was stealing from my grandmother. As I was leaving for school every morning, I
would pick handfuls from one of the pots and fill my short pockets. Forty days are to a thief, she had noticed her
supply diminish and likely, they both agreed to catch the thief. She put a rattrap in the pot and one particular day as I
dipped my hands into the pot the trap snapped on my three fingers. The snapping sound of trap was a signal to
Gregory to call her, for she hid behind the house. My grandfather called out once, “Kristina run, a rat has been
caught”. I could not remove it by myself and as she came to help in removing the rattrap, I anticipated that there was
to be a beating. With my father, I would have received a good beating. As she let my fingers off the trap she simply
said, “Stupid small rat, stealing what belongs to it. Why did you not ask for permission? You should be ashamed of
yourself.” That was a lesson well learnt, and at no time did I ever steal anything. My trapped fingers were sore.
Grandma dipped her hands into the pot, picked a handful and gave to me saying, “Here, take your salary and never
do it again for I will always catch you, understood” “Yes” I said and left for school nursing my fingers.
That day I also brought home a letter from my father to my grandpa. They used the school post box, the prefects
would call the name of the addressee, and if you knew him or her, you would come forward to take it. My
grandparents could not read and I read it aloud to them. My father had written to enquire about his son and to
inform his parents that he would be coming home soon. He had found a temporary job with a certain garage and
would come to pick me up as he did not want my mother to be seeing me. He dwelt a lot on the subject saying that
my mother would even corrupt my mind. I was torn asunder between these objective and subjective tensions. I could
not find any reason to that, and he did insist that I not be allowed to see my mom at any time whatsoever. Had I done
something wrong to deserve this? Had I become a bargaining tool? He was wielding power over me while he could
not in the first place take me to school, let alone even buying a school uniform. I had found my first school and
uniform through my own effort, when he brought me home I had to find school for myself yet he was speaking
despicable things about his own wife. I vowed silently to myself that never shall I again bring any letter home without
reading it first. I did this because immediately I finished reading, Gregory and Kristina told me outright that from then
henceforth I would not be permitted to visit or see my mother.
They did not know that they were setting stage for defiance. Just as I said earlier, any action beckons a reaction and
the best way to deal with these old couple was to do my things underground. Mom had only recently brought me a
new school uniform and a pair of leather shoes. I was the talk of the school because apart from the teachers none
other than me had shoes. She had never mentioned anything bad about my dad, yet dad had said a lot about her
while we were at Kericho. If anything happened wrong or if I forgot anything it was because I ‘was stupid as my
mother’ I had become an object not a child begot by a man and woman. As I grew in body, my mind developed
doubly. Any obstacle put before me would become my stepping-stone. I did not have the security other children had
and everyday brought me a challenge with its solution.
I started keeping to myself spending a lot of after school hours in the bushes. I would go a long time without food and
not feel hungry. I had stopped taking things from my grandmother after the rattrap episode. I would taste any wild
fruit. If the raw ones were sour then the ripe ones were edible. That was my reasoning. I did eat a great number of
even the ones people say are poisonous. I believed that if a bird could eat some fruit and stay alive I would also. I
would read my books in the bushes and sometimes fall asleep. My grandparents would never spank me but if you
heard what they told me, one would opt for a beating. I was the proverbial fish from the frying pan to the fire. My
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father must have undergone such a kind of upbringing because the same people who brought him up were not his
parents. All the time him and mom stayed together I never saw him drank or pick a quarrel with her. I could draw
with precision the time line and I knew without anyone telling me that my troubles stated when they separated.
Whether it would stop, and when I had no hint. My mother was gaining ground by not attacking anyone but bringing
all she would get for me.
When schools closed for the holidays in December, I had a lot of time to explore my environs to the extent I had not
before. I would sneak and visit my mom’s home without the old folks knowing. My relatives on my mom’s side were
kindly and whenever I brought anything from them, I knew better to hide it until I would feel safe to bring it in. I had
a carton that served as my cloth box. I would not keep any money given to me in there, I do not know if I had any
premonition of someone taking money from my keeping or whether it was just purely a chance of being extra careful.
I had hatched a very nobble idea, I would keep my money in a tin which I hid in a hole way out from the house. I
made sure that whenever I would be sent to throw away chicken droppings and other garbage I would throw the
same on the exact place where I hid my tin. All the homesteads I had been told to be unsafe for me to go to, I would
still find one or two things to make me go there without the knowledge of my old folks. As time moved, on I believed
less and less in what anybody told me. I found that I needed tangible proof for anything anyone said. The clansmen
people feared and talked bad of were friendly. How could plant leaves either pound or burnt to ashes be capable of
making people sick or even dead? I had on several occasions thrown stones at the birds I was told that were bad
omen but nothing happened to me. I would imitate the weirdest of bird and animal sounds but nothing happened. I
had reached a point in my young life where ‘don’t’, meant, ‘do’. I made my own laws and broke other people’s laws. I
set my own boundaries but I would make sure to try out anything before believing. I would come to know that my
grandma was not short of hearing. Gregory grandpa who said that his sight was not good, was only lying because he
could send me up a mango tree, to pick a mango he had seen among the foliage of the tree, even he could tell from
as far as where he used to sit, that a certain pawpaw fruit was about to ripe. Whatever the faking was for I do not
know. I knew every single boy in the village and every home around us. Everyone seemed to like me apart from my
own folks who found one or two things to berate me about. If they were clever enough why could they not find the
hole where I hid my money? Moreover, why could they not find out that I had caught, roasted and ate one of the
birds said to be bad omen. I remember one evening he told me that a certain bird was so bad that if one hit it
accidentally it would rot before you could pick it up not knowing that the same day I’d deliberately caught one and
ate .As they became more strict and of started monitoring my movements, I devised ways of going out. They had
three goats and I would ask for permission to go graze, water and bring them back. These were not always, what I
did. If I felt like going to my mother’s home I would take the goats far away from home and tether them near the
bushes where they would graze by themselves while I went my way and back.
My mom came to visit for Christmas season holidays and sent over one of his cousins to inform me that I should go
over immediately. I knew better not to ask for permission to go and my uncle knew the same. We simply took away
the goats and headed straight to their home. It was easy for the two of us to handle the goats. Mom came to meet us
and helped us tether them where they could eat. After tethering the goats, we sat under a tree. Mom sent away her
cousin and got to talking to me. She started by asking if I had any concerns which I needed to be addressed , but I said
I had none, yet I was burning from inside because of the things I was going through. She started on the reason why
she had sent my uncle away. She did not want anyone to know whatever thing we talked about not even my father.
“You ought to know some things which will enable you judge both your father and I from the right perspective”, she
said. “I personally have no problems with your father and if any, that would be beyond your comprehension
presently. I never had any child before you and neither is I going to have another after you. Do not think that am
unaware of your suffering under the hands of your father and it pains me to see you unkept as you are. A child is not
supposed to be separated from its mother whatsoever and under all circumstances. However, that is what has
happened to you because of conditions beyond my control. I have my parents to obey because of tradition that is
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Walking on the cold embers
there to obey but not to question. However, if I come back to your father without their consent, something bad
might befall me, they may curse me. My father never liked your father for his reasons, but we went ahead and
married after one of your relatives paid out to my father some cows. My uncle John was against it, saying that your
real grandmother had run away and that I would have nobody to welcome me into your family. My people and your
people attach a lot of their belief in what might one day be obsolete. Your father has more rights as you will grow to
know and on top of that, he has some other privileges that I do not. He can choose to get another wife, which will
give you a stepmother, stepbrothers and sisters. I know he is not going to do what my father wants but I cannot
betray you by doing all other things he will do. Soon your father may come and take you away because he thinks by
doing that he will get at me. It may be long before you set your eyes on me again but I will always be thinking of you.
Even if there is a stepmother, do not ever look down on her because she will be your mother for time being. You
must obey your father as much as possible. Never take anybody’s property without his or her knowledge such that
you do not become a thief. I carried you in my womb for an extra one month and nine days, which means you came
out after ten months, nine days. Believe me that was unheard of and for time being my parents opposition waned.
Traditionally it is not right to do what your father did to my father when he came to my mother’s funeral. I want you
to grow up one day and ask him what he did. When you leave today, you ought to know that your life is stretched
before you. When I was your age, I looked after my father’s cows and fought the boys out in the field. Remember, I
had my mother and father, but you are not going to have all of us at the same time. Eat anything your father gives
you and never complain about anything, Persevere every bad thing you might encounter but you will never always
remain a child. You have as long as you have grown to reach adulthood. You must learn to wash your own clothes and
know that water is medicine if you bathe daily you will never fall sick frequently .Now get up and put your hands on
my head and repeat after me what I say” I stood up and did what my mom said. What she said was so simple and I
repeated it. ”Mama you are mama forever amen”. After that, we went home to eat, and when it came time to leave
instead of giving me money as always she gave me a handkerchief and two black and white photos of me taken when
I was under a year old. Whenever we sit down and recount the occurrences of that day, we laugh a lot. We made a
pact that none of us would ever break.
When I came home leading the goats I was shocked to see my father sitting out near the granary and sorting out
through my carton. I was going to get a beating no doubt because the clothes in the carton were all from my mother.
I herded the goats into the kitchen and tied the ropes around the stump of short poles driven into the ground. I was
terribly afraid that he might know that I was seeing my mother against his will. However, mom had told me to
prepare for the worse, so she was a prophet. I came out of the kitchen holding the stick I had been using to drive the
animals home. He blurted out, “young man come here with that stick and tell me where all these are from” I turned,
faced the other side and held the stick as you might hold a lance and threw it as far as it could go. I was not going to
allow him beat me with my own stick, and the stick was from a kind of plant that does not break easily. I walked
straight to where he was. He looked at me from feet to head as I approached and when I stood with my hands behind
me he extended his for a handshake. My mother’s words rung in my mind, “obey your father……” I took his hand and
I could feel my hands trembling in his. He asked again, “Where did these clothes come from? I say”.” My mother
brought them for me.” I answered meekly. “Why did you ask her for clothes? I would have told him the truth
because I never asked for the clothes but I deviated from the usual manner of cowardice and answered as he did not
expect. “I cannot go naked as the goats I look after and am in class three promoted to class four when school
reopens” They both laughed, as my grandpa looked at me amusedly. I had given him the right answer, I thought, and
that marked the beginning of outright defiance.
He ordered me to go bathe myself. I liked going to the pond at evening hours because when the women drawing
water had left, me and the other boys would swim in the pond. We would not make noise, as we knew that if ever we
were found then anybody had the discharge of discipline to implement, and discipline meant canes. I had carried a
trough to scoop water. Today there was not going to be any swimming and no waiting for the women to leave. I was
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down to business going into the pond knee depth and dipped my trough into the water put it on my head and walked
out, placed my trough on a patch of grass and pulled off my clothes. I threw water to my head several times and took
the soap, working round the head until there was enough lather. Before I could rinse my head, I heard footsteps
behind me. It was my mom; she was on her way to the market place and had seen me carry my water and had thus
come over to help me out. “Do not turn, close your eyes you will get soap into your eyes. She put down the basket
she was carrying and drew close taking my sponge and soap simultaneously. She worked on enough lather onto the
sponge and started scrubbing me. It was three years since she had last bathed me. She rinsed me and repeated the
procedure once more. I felt clean. My dad had also followed me perhaps for the same reason or otherwise, but their
rendezvous turned into an exchange.
What I had not seen was before me that evening, so dad and mom could quarrel. Mom spoke before dad did. “How
dare you leave my only child with your old parents who do not care whether he is bathed or not? If you knew, you
could not take care of him why did you not allow me to have him. Look how skinny he is yet you are as fat as a pig for
slaughter!” Mom threw down the sponge rinsed her hands and picked her basket, and made to leave. Dad blocked
her way and the other boys began to gather for the drama. Dad was shouting obscenities, abusing my mother while I
watched. Thank God, they did not fight but I never forgot that day for it would punctuate part of my life later.
Coming home dad sorted out all that was from my mother and leaving me with only what I wore, bundled all the rest
and put them outside, brought paraffin from the main house and sprinkled on the clothes before setting them on
fire. As all my clothes blew into smoke burning, my heart ached. I was featuring in any aspect of their disagreement.
Why was he denying me my right to poses things from my mother? He went into the main house once more and
brought out his own suitcase. I looked with keenness to see if he was going to burn his clothes too. He pulled out
from the suitcase a pair of long trousers and a shirt and threw them to me without talking. I was angrier than he was,
and as the clothes landed near my feet, the spirit of defiance that he had cultivated rose up. I got off the ones I was
wearing and before I could put on what he had thrown to me, put into the inferno what I had got off. I stood
watching as all I had went up in flames. He did not say anything as I went into the main house naked and brought out
the new school uniform and the leather shoes which mom had bought me and heaped the same on the burning lot. I
was burning everything I had not because I wanted to, but because that was the only way, I could express my anger.
In my mind, I grew up tenfold in size, and I imagined holding him by his neck. How and why in the name of reason did
clothes become a factor in their separation? I stood near my burning clothes and for the first time I contemplated
throwing myself into the fire. I would burn with my clothes and be gone forever. I watched as entire lot mom had
used her money to buy burn and become ashes. The pain inside me was unbearable. In my mind, I was screaming at
him, hitting him on the face but I could not do that. I could not stand against a full-grown man but I had registered my
displeasure by adding what he had left out to the fire. If he could not read the message, it did not matter anymore to
me. I was a child and he was an adult, more so his own child why burn my clothes? I was going to bottle this anger
too. The reel of his beating me ran in my mind and I was so sure he would do it then if I provoked him further. All that
came from my mom ended there save for the money, which I kept hidden in a tin dug in the ground near the mango
tree.
He ordered me to put on what he had thrown at my feet. The trouser he had brought did not fit; even the shirt too
was small. My grandmother Kristina spoke for the first time that evening, she called my father “Joredi” even though
his name was Jared. “What did your son do that made you burn his clothes?” His answer was absurd as his act. “Don’t
you see he has grown as long horns as his mother? Kristina was a woman of insight and I liked the way she spoke
about my mother. “You know Joredi even if he has grown horns as long as his mothers’; burning his clothes is not a
solution. You are extending your disagreement with your in-laws to your wife and child for nothing. This kid came
here with very few clothes and if you knew and wanted him not to receive anything from his mother, you would have
bought him. I do not like the way you are doing things and I am wondering if the people you grew up in their hands
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Walking on the cold embers
ever taught you good manners. You should have been clever enough to know that this child was what sealed your
relation with the people of his mother. You can never rub it off, not ever, I tell you. You have very little in life, which
would make you want to be kindly with your wealth; which starts with your wife and ends with your children. When
you came back from Kericho, I thought you had brought money to buy a cow for your dowry as your in-laws wanted
but you instead left for Nakuru. Your age mates have their wives and are getting more children, are you not ashamed
that our family is diminishing? I wanted many children myself but I have only one and as I thought you would bear
children to carry on our family name, you are busy fighting a woman through a child. Your wife has done nothing to
make you burn a Childs’ clothes; moreover, she was filling in for your shortcomings. Now look at what you brought,
clothes that cannot fit him and you have burnt all else he had. I am afraid you are doing more harm to this child than
good. If I were you, I would not do what you are doing. I wish you knew how people are suffering to do all they can to
please their own children”. Dad did not say anything. Perhaps because he knew that what had been said was true, or
because he did not care, or both. When Kristina stopped talking she rose up to leave, but Gregory ordered her to sit
down, she sat and remained silent. Gregory had expected a response from my dad, which was not forthcoming,
hence, he said. “Ochieng you have been bewitched and that is why you cannot keep your jobs, wife and may not be
able to keep your child or children if in future you have others. Before all else we need to get a magician to cleanse
you. People do not get children to torture and whoever does that may face the wrath of our ancestors and the gods.
There is nothing a man can do after he agitates the gods and they rise against him. I can neither advice, nor warn you
about your behavior, because you may choose not to listen. Kristina and I got and lost many children in death. Had
they been alive perhaps today my homestead would be happier. There is a saying of our people that ’whoever does
not have children sends his testicles’ and another saying that ‘a woman gives birth for another woman’. The first
saying shows how disrespectful our people are to the childless. Because no one can cut and send a part of his body
and the second one teaches responsibility of bringing up a child does not belong to the mother only. I do not like our
people because of what they say about me. My blue eyes and curly hair make them say that am a witch. The same
people have gone to greater lengths to make me end the way I am. You ought to know that we are old now and may
pass on to be on the other side with the rest of our ancestors. If you choose to listen to my voice then do everything
you can to make the mother of this child come back. You did seduce her by yourself in the absence of anyone and still
you have the charm to woo her and bring her back, you do not need a medicine man for that but for the other
traditions of our people that you have disobeyed, however if you cannot do that, then find another woman. You
overreached and got the daughter of a proud man and if she takes the pride of her father it may take years to bring
her back and it could be too late to get children. Apart from these goats, you see here, I do not have wealth to pay
more dowries for you. The son of yours is very bright and the people who have bad eyes will bewitch him. You have
two things to do that would be some protection to him, your future and ours. You either have to take him away from
here and go with him to town where you live or you let his mother take him away”. He took his walking stick and I
thought he was going to hit dad with it, but instead he poked the ground with it while he kept talking. “This soil is not
kind to us, all my brothers died before me, and it was not satisfied. The soil still wants some of us but the people with
bad eyes seem not to be dying at our rate. Your wife the mother of this child is a tractor and this village is neither safe
for her too. I had run away to fotana but they found out where I was and their medicine followed me. You, I and your
son are the only living males of our house and because they seem to have succeeded in getting you, so do something
before they come after your son” Dad had kept his gaze on the ground but I noticed his eyes were teary. He called his
uncle “baba” and looked away while he spoke. “I have realized today why am not succeeding in anything but from
today henceforth am not going to allow them to bewitch anyone here. “I am going to….” Gregory cut him short. “No
magician has as strong omen as theirs. Keep yourself free from any magic then you will remain smooth and they may
not be able to harm you and your children. The best magic against their magic is not to touch any magic. I visited
many magicians and they could not help me. The magicians took my wealth and I still lost my children. Not even one
would be able to know when and how you were bewitched. Desist from magic and you will remain safe”. My father
nodded in agreement and my grandmother walked away.
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I was still angry because of my clothes and shoes. What remained was just ash, and smoldering remains of clothe
parts. My heart was bleeding and nobody would know. What remained in my heart was my earlier description of
people that you can identify them with what they do. From what grandpa said I knew that they had many enemies in
and without. It was hard to believe that the same people who brought him up and later paid his dowry would be the
same ones working for his downfall. To me it was difficult because my mind always beckoned tangible proof. This was
what had taken roots and grew gigantically in both my mind and heart. How were they going to convince me? They
did not even know that I believed very few of their words. All the things I had been told were taboo and their
subsequent punishment from the gods were all but false. The ones I could try my hands on I had tried and none knew
I had. It was not hypocrisy but fear, which made them avoid others. With that came my distrust in any adult, my
grandfather, father, mother and even Anastasia, not unless they could prove their claim.
Even though I knew some things to be false, I never did the opposite in anyone’s sight. Among my age mates, I
became a point of reference. If one did not understand anything or disagreed with another, I was sought to give my
opinion. I could first enter into argument with the source and finally ask them to provide proof. Most arguments were
based on ideology not tangible proof. I remember one time Kristina nearly beat me after I logically questioned her
belief. We had walked many miles to church, and as we went along, she smoked her pipe. I had watched her fill it
with fermented, pound and dried tobacco leaves that morning before we left home for church. The smoke from the
burning contents of pipe was pungent and I wondered what they got from smoking it. By the time, we came to the
church she had stopped smoking and put her pipe in the basket she carried. She left the basket outside the church
doors where there were a score of others too. We sung, knelt down and listened to the priest praying. Lastly, when
the service was over we left for home via the market. I was going to ask questions pertaining to the church service. I
first asked her in a very innocent tone where God lived. She answered that He lived in heaven after which she went
into detail that God does everything and sees everyone from heaven. One of my other question was why did she live
her basket outside the church. She told me that because her basket carried the pipe and the church being a sacred
place she would not carry her pipe into the church. Unknowingly she had prepared an arsenal for herself. I used the
information she had given me to ask her other questions. “Granny don’t you think that you are being untrue to your
God? Do you think you are pleasing to him while you smoke all the way to his house and later hide your pipe in a
basket left outside the door of the same church? Is he so blind not to see the pipe? I caught her unaware and she
made to hit me with the basket but I ran forward a few steps and continued my onslaught. ”Granny you are a
pretender, aren’t you? “Wait until I catch you, I will skin and give to the dogs your meat. Some women who were
following us laughed at her and drew her into a conversation before we could finish ours. When we left the market
for home, she told me, “Grandson you will be a problem to this village in future, you seem to think beyond your age.”
Before we came home we met some women who were going for a certain funeral and one of them asked her,
”Kristina where are you coming from with your husband? I looked at her and asked defiantly, “Are you mad? don’t
you see I am just a boy and she is an old woman? They simply laughed and kept on their way. I would later come to
know that traditionally grandchildren are called husbands and wives by their respective grandparents.
The discussion between dad and his father had yielded some information, which was not pleasant to me. Dad had
said that he would take me with him to Nakuru. The name of the town was fancy but dad was brutal and I feared
living about his presence. I wondered if he would take me to school when we would go to that town. I planned to
disappear on the departure day but I could not because of the things he told me. He said to me “my son the town I
will be taking you to have very good schools and everything little boys like. I want you to be happy I will find a school
for you there, buy you school uniform and many nice clothes. Don’t worry about your mother, you are a man,
understand? I did not know what he wanted me to respond to that I had understood, whether it was worrying about
my mother, or being a man, or both. What remained lay somewhere ahead in a town that I had never visited. It was
like waiting to cross a bridge on a river whose waters you had seen from far.
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Walking on the cold embers
NAKURU
The journey started a little early. We boarded a bus at our local market. We found a seat near the driver. I was
marveling at the way he was controlling the bus. I noticed that each time he shifted gears the sound of the engine
changed and the speed too. I was dying to know what the three pedals at his feet were and why at times, he kept his
foot on one and other times his feet would shift from one pedal to another. In my mind, I would become a driver and
I was driving the same bus. I knew the clothes I wore disturbed dad because they did not fit, most of the time he
acted as if he was shielding me from the watchful eyes of other passengers. I was going to a town with better schools
and dad had promised to buy me many nice things. That is what was needed to keep me occupied all the way.
We did not take long at the bus park in Kisumu. No sooner did we arrive than we boarded another which looked
newer. This time we sat directly behind the driver and just as I had done on the way to Kisumu, I watched the driver
keenly. By the time, we came to Nakuru I had known that the three pedals were for speed, stopping and each time he
pushed in one on the left foot, the engine would change its purring. I wondered if dad knew how to drive and I did
not ask him for I knew that would perhaps earn me a beating. I had leant that if I wanted peace with him then I would
always try not to provoke him by asking any question. He was short of temper and that was not news to me only I
knew that if I crossed his line on the wrong side then I would have to bear with the consequences. I had a double self.
One was the true me, defiant, hard, inquisitive, eager to learn and the other was the soft obedient boy with his dad.
Dad had contributed in making me a double standard person. He did not know and could not draw a line where my
obedience started and ended. I wish he knew that I was capable of lying to him to get out of trouble. When the bus
came to Nakuru, we alighted and he held my hand, dragging me behind him as we trans versed the town. It was true,
Nakuru was different and there were many people. We passed by the market place and dad bought some vegetables
and some fruits. At the market everyone was busy, some selling others buying. When finally we walked out of the
town and headed to the direction he said was the house, I started counting cars each as they passed.
Dad had said that he worked in a garage and no doubt, I thought perhaps he knew the people in the cars but why was
he not stopping any to take us to the house? There were many people heading to and from the direction, we were
going. The first school he showed me as we left town, he said was for the rich people, Aryans, Indians, Whites and
other rich people. I knew that I had no chance to ask who the Aryans, Indians and the rest are and what made us
different. Even if I had the capability to ask, he could not give an appropriate answer. Everything new he said to me I
would keep for research. Perhaps other children might know or any other adult who might have the will to tell me.
We passed several schools some, which he said any one could go to but he never, hinted if he would take me to any
of them. The schools were beautiful with flowerbeds and painted walls. I knew he was bothered by the fact that I was
bear footed yet all other children had shoes. Myself it did not bother me; I knew how to walk bare foot and my feet
had become tough. I thought of my shoes bought for me by my mother ad how I had put them on the fire my dad had
used to burn my clothes. Somehow, I was winning all the wars against him and he did not know. Whatever game he
would start, I would emerge the winner making him look foolish. Nevertheless, this is what he had made out of me.
Knowing that if one is overly harsh with their children they end up cheating him, trying everything he says they
should not, and worse they become rebels.
It was only a few days to Christmas and people were busy buying presents for their loved ones. Dad was staying in his
cousin’s house. The cousin, my uncle, worked with the railways cooperation as a painter. He was once married but his
wife had left him. He had children but he was not staying with them, rumors had it that the wife had taken the
children with her and got married to another man. He was very polite and friendly and within a short time had made
me feel at home. He took me to the railways station. I had never seen a train. I watched with awe the goods train that
was passing. The last couch had its door open and I saw a man, I asked Uncle Francis if he knew him. He told me that
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Walking on the cold embers
he knew some locomotive drivers who stayed in the estate where he lived. He said that the passenger train do pass
from Nairobi in the middle of the night and that Nakuru was the only place that both trains to and from Nairobi met.
He said that the last couch was the guard and it was where the brakes of the train are. The rest was left for my
imagination. I wondered how it felt like travelling in a train. I really wanted to and I asked Uncle Francis if he would
one day take me on a train ride. He promised he would. I was getting along fine with him more than dad and every
question I asked I got an answer. Before we came to the railway station, we had passed by a shoes’ store. There were
many shoes. He was to buy me a pair of shoes but I made an argument that only made him and the shop attendant
laugh. On the sole of the shoes he wanted to buy for me was written “prefect” and I said that I was not a prefect and
that if he bought those, then the prefects at the new school would take them from me. He told me in a polite manner
that the word was just a brand name for the shoes. When the shop attendant brought out the package box for my
shoes, I refused to take the box because on all its sides was written the word prefect. Uncle Francis therefore asked
me to put them on. He bought a pair of socks too. It looked marvelous, I had arrived just the other day and today I
had shoes and socks and was being taken to the railway station. Nothing could compare to that. You could see
happiness on my face and hear it on my voice. As he walked me to the station, we passed many shops selling
different wares. However nearly all the shops had the poster of what they sold and the word SALE was on every
window and door. To me that meant that the owner of the shops was called SALE and my pronunciation of the word
made my Uncle laugh even more. He liked teaching and as we walked along, he would explain to me what the
different words on the windows and street corners meant.
On Christmas day, there was a party in Uncle Francis house. On the eve of the day, the estate children lit bon fires
from old motorcar tyres. I could hear their merry singing well past into middle of the night. Uncle Francis forbade me
from joining them. He said that because I was a new boy the other older boys would beat me up. I only wished he
knew that I was good at that kind of game, to be hit and hit back harder. The party began barely early. Some two
women came to cook the foods for the party. Uncle Francis only told me that the women were my mothers.
Generally, that meant that the women were their wives in some manner. After the cooking, they left for wherever
they came from.
It would be my first time to see beer. Dad brought case lots and few bottles of soda. They did not go to church.
Shortly before noon, the guests started arriving. Uncle Francis had a record player and they set the music blaring.
Each of them was in the best of spirits. I would look at them as they poured beer into the glasses. The frothy foam as
the beer was being poured was something of a surprise to me. I was given soda to drink and after, a heavy mid-day
meal they went back to drinking. Bottle after bottle they gobbled and became tipsy. They put the table on the bed
and put the chairs outside the door. They had turned the house into a dancing arena. The day had finally come when
I would see my father dance. The women laughed hilariously as they danced. It amused me the way they bumped
their backs. The women and the men all whom had been introduced to me as uncles and mothers danced with such
abandon. To the tune of the music, they would bump on the buttocks, turned the other side, and repeat the same.
Therefore, my dad could dance. As their drinking and dancing continued, their indecency started showing. My uncles
had given me money. Dad did not complain and the more they drank the more money they gave me. It was necessary
that they get some space for themselves. My uncle told me to go the shops to buy anything I wanted. It was my time
to start my exploration. I knew where the shops were because we had gone there with Uncle Francis to buy milk. I did
not know what to buy with all the money I had. If it were sodas, I had taken more than enough and I was satisfied
from the party meal of chicken, fish, rice, chapattis and assortments of other vegetables. I did not feel like wanting to
eat anything else.
The estate boys saw me before I saw them. As I went round the house to go to the shop, an object flew past me. It
had been aimed at my head and missed by a few inches. Was this the kind of welcome I was going to get from these
boys. If they thought, I was a coward they were in for a surprise. I went straight to the group that had appeared from
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Walking on the cold embers
behind the fence. I was daring them to come, and one slightly taller than I broke from the group. I got hold of him at
the waist and threw him as hard as I could. I knew I was going to fight a group but I was not scared. He landed in a
ditch that had dirty water. The others shouted in applause without joining in. As he got out of the ditch, I went for his
neck but he hit my face with a fist. That infuriated me and I engaged him more. I could not gauge time but I could
only hear cheers from the other boys. They were not cheering him but I.As their cheer of village boy echoed I hit him
and he fell. He was bleeding from the nose and I kept on punching his bleeding face. It took an adult some time to
separate us despite our waning strength. He was crying and wanted to pick a stone. I picked one before he could and
as he found me readying to throw, he shot off to the direction of his parents’ house crying loudly. This episode
earned me friends from the group. One of them spoke to me in swahili, asking what my name was. I had fought
against a boy who was feared by the others. It was as if I was being crowned for beating him up. They all joined me
and we headed for the shop. I had a lot of money given to me by my uncles. We bought two loaves of bread, sweets
and doughnuts. I used less than five shillings to buy all these. The group was unfriendly to me but I had conquered
their leader and bought them things. We ate and left the shop. As we walked along, they introduced themselves one
after another. We ended up splitting into two groups and played football. One of the boys saw the mother of the boy
I had beaten and sounded an alarm. Everyone shot off in a different direction. I did not know the hiding places of the
estate and headed home. I sat out the door but when the woman appeared leading her son in front of her, I went
inside. My uncles and the women did not notice my entry and I went into the kitchen. The woman banged the door
rudely. She was screaming at the top of her voice. I knew I would be beaten thoroughly, but when Uncle Francis came
out, he defended me instead. I could hear him swear that I had not left the house. Dad called me out and I feared
what would happen. However when I got out the woman made a mistake by calling me a silly village boy. The women
in our house could not take that and they started shouting at her. Francis was not as drank as the rest of them and he
was trying to ascertain if at all I done it. For a second time woman called me silly and this made uncle Francis angry.
He told the woman, “what you are calling names is my brother’s son and he happens to be as strong as our people.
He is our little dog of course and if you do not leave immediately, I will ask him to teach you a lesson too” Amidst the
shouts of our guests she left cursing.
I knew it was not over; however, when the other people had left, my dad and uncle, instead of punishing me, praised
me. He said, “my son do you know that you are not to allow any woman insult to you? There is nothing whatsoever
to make you fear a woman. Next time she insults you, pick a stone and aim at her head. Now tell us, what happened
to the boy’s nose. I had two options only, either to lie or to tell the truth. I opted for the latter and instead of
rebuking me, they simply laughed. “What did you boys fight for? I told them that the boy had called me village boy,
and had tried to hit me with a stone. “Next time he tries to play with you make sure you destroy his face, and give
him a good beating that he goes to a hospital O.K.? said my dad. He was teaching me to be aggressive and violent.
After an early evening meal, they told me to lock the door from inside and sleep when I felt like. They said they were
going out and would come back late. They never came back and I had to remain alone in the house all night. I was not
afraid, countless nights I had been left by myself in past times at Kericho.
Uncle Francis came back without my dad. Certain questions I had learnt not to ask, and I could not ask him where dad
was. After breakfast, he left again. While we were having our breakfast, he told me that it was boxing day that day.
He told me that if any boy irked me the best I could do that day was to box. The rules were slightly different, he
checked on my feeding and was home every single day I lived with him to make meals. However, the game was the
same. I was getting encouragement to be violent. Uncle Francis said that when he takes me to school and a female
teacher punishes me instead of crying I should sneer at her. A man was not even supposed to lie down for female
teacher to be punished. “You must know that a man is as high up above a woman as heaven is from the earth” Had it
not been that I respected uncle, I would have put him to task. I decided to have my own debate in my heart instead
of fomenting it with uncle. I was damn sure that if given fair ground, I would win that debate. I had nothing against
women and I saw them as fellow human beings capable of doing things Just as well as men. When he left the house,
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Walking on the cold embers
it did not take me long to find the estate boys. We had several games to play. It baffles me how fast I got used to
these boys. The last game we played was football and the boy I had beaten the previous day stood aside. He was not
going to play or rather feared that another fight might arise. However, I invited him to join us. He played on our side.
Most of the time he passed the ball to me and I did the same. Even though our opponents beat us, six-to-four we left
the pitch friends and walked home for lunch.
Uncle was busy making lunch, dad was not back yet but while we ate, I asked him if dad was going to come before
evening. I did not know whether he was lying or saying the truth, that dad had gone to work. How could anyone go to
work on a holiday? I nearly asked him. As he was just leaving the house he saw the boy I had fought and asked him
what he was looking for near his house. As I would come to know later, this boy also was living with his mother only.
He was to become my best friend. We shared something common; single parentage. The fight had brought us closer
and closer. Whenever we played football ,we would be on one side. He told me in advance which boys to choose on
our side. He had been here with them longer than I. All the games we played we would win. I still had some money
from what I had been given during Christmas and we would go to the shop to buy something to eat. The shopkeeper
was of Arab origin. He was very heavy, in fact obese, and hated walking to the counter to take money and back to his
chair. He placed the tray of doughnuts on the counter. I do not know how we started doing it but at some stage, we
found out that during the afternoon the fat man would be dozing off on his chair. We would walk stealthily to the
shop and pick his doughnuts without paying. Sometime we would kneel and just eat at the front of the shop without
him knowing.
When schools opened, my uncle went by himself to look for school. The first one he went to did not have places for
more pupils. The one he found for me insisted that I go in school uniform. I had to wait for a week for the uniform to
be made by a tailor. Uncle Francis was against buying readymade uniform because he said, they were from an inferior
quality of cloth, and wore off fast. To my amazement, many of the estate children we played with were in the same
class. I got a very warm welcome, no bullying even from the older boys. At break time, we went out the gate to buy
pickles from some women and played before classes resumed. We had only one teacher in the whole morning
session that did nothing, but remind us to keep quiet. When time for lunch came, we went to the assembly. That is
when I knew why teachers were away from class that morning. They were making timetables and choosing subjects.
That is what the master on duty said. From class four to class seven had to come back after lunch and we were going
to have a debate. The motion was “mother is better than father”. Even as I ran home, I had chosen which side to sit
on. I had never before participated in a debate but the motion was so inviting. My uncle was home and my lunch was
ready. I passed by my friend’s house and his mother saw me. She shouted at me, “you village boy, do not ever come
near my house. You look like death, I know you are looking for my son eh! Go away! Her son came out and defended
me. “No, Mom he is Vitalis, not village boy. He is in our class and he is now my friend please. She looked at me and at
her son then sneered. I could not pay back, She was my friend’s mother and this afternoon I was going to stand for
mothers!
When the bells went for lessons to begin, our class teacher came to pick us for the debate. The school hall had been
arranged that the speaker sat in the middle. When we came in the other classes had already sat. It was very funny
that the side proposing was had few boys and many girls The side opposing the motion sat on the side of the hall
through which was a door we came in was. We stood and the speaker announced that the arriving pupils should
choose which side they wanted to support before they sit. “Those who are for mothers cross the floor”. All the girls in
our class crossed. I looked at my friend and he was looking at me. I started to cross and he followed me. While the
girls clapped for us the other, side jeered. “Women!, women!!, women!” they shouted. Our teacher looked at us and
smiled not because she was a woman but perhaps because we were only three boys on the side of mothers. The two
of us from class four and another one from class seven. The debate started and the senior classes dominated the
floor. Towards the end of the debate, I had gathered enough courage but I do not know how my hands came to be
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Walking on the cold embers
up. The speaker was from class seven and the way he kept refusing those who wanted to interrupt the proposers I
believed from my heart that he was for mothers. He looked at me intently and said, “I have not met you before, you
look new to our school, tell us your name, class and proceed” The applause from our side nearly shocked me. I had
not said a thing and here they were shouting. I was excited and I stood up with courage. “ Thank you Mr. Speaker Sir
,my name is Vitalis from class four. I stand to propose that a Mother is better than a father” a girl from the few who
were on the fathers’ side shot up. “A point of interruption, Mr. speaker” to my dismay the speaker said, “accepted”
“can the speaker proposing tell us his second name” she said and sat down as those on her side clapped. ”Mr.
Speaker sir, Kindly ask that man in a woman’s dress to go out and change into a man’s clothes before you allow him
to interrupt me” There was foot thumping from our side and clapping with a lot of whistling. The speaker looked at
her, smiled and said, “Lynda you heard what he said? Go out, change and come back,” clapping continued. “continue
Vitalis” “Mr. Speaker I thought all Lynda’s are mothers! Allow her to sit and listen to me for a while, because she is
not aware that she will be a mother soon. Mr. Speaker sir do all the fathers on that side know that they came from us
the mothers? my last point, Mr. Speaker, tell all those fathers to go home and, get rid of their mothers and wives if
they have any, thank you Mr. Speaker, I beg to sit” There was applause from all sides in the hall and I could literally
hear my heartbeat. The speaker called us to order and asked the secretary to read the scores. Our side carried the
day, eleven-to-seven.
My name was to change that day. When the curriculum teacher stood up to address us, there was still applause from
the pupils. ”Silence please, she said. “I have noticed with sentiments how all the speakers presented their points. As
you are all aware, the debate is only a forum for you to express your opinions, use other pupils’ opinions to get your
points taken seriously. I hope you are not going to hold ill feelings against one another and that is why we are here. I
am personally amused by what the new boy in my class said, how he took out on Lynda, to the extent of influencing
the speaker to ask Lynda to go out. That is a skill, which you seniors ought to emulate. I was surprised when again he
asked the speaker to let Lynda stay because she is going to be a mother soon. Always, remember that, some great
men are born but some are made. Lynda, take him seriously because what he said has a ring of truth in it. To me,
today, Vitalis is a victor. Do you know what the word means Wallace? She asked the speaker. “Yes Madam, it means
the winner of a battle or competition” Exactly, Wallace, I am pleased that you know and so should others. From
today, we call our new boy Victor. Vitalis save your official name for exams, but as we leave this hall may you be
known around the school as Victor. Now, Wallace choose next week’s Speaker and hand over before we go back to
classes. As Wallace looked from side to side, I thought that he would pick one of the older boys or girl from his class.
Finally, his gaze behind the specs he wore rested on me a little longer. When he looked back at the teacher, he said,
“I have chosen Victor Madam” Amidst the shouts and clapping , I saw Wallace beckon me to step forward, I did and
he shook my hand firmly and the teacher dismissed the session.
I left the hall with my classmates. They were congratulating me and I had a new name to go with it. I would be known
all around school as Victor. As the term progressed, I found out that the Speaker had never been from any junior
class. Severally the boys from the senior classes would fling it to me. I was celebrated. My new name spilt over to
the estate and slowly my real name died off. Even the schoolteachers called me Victor, and they expected of me what
pertains to the name. My father had since moved to a different estate and I continued to stay with uncle Francis. Dad
would come only once or twice a week and would stay for a short time and leave. He would not ask about my
progress at school and bothered not to look at my books either. Uncle on the other hand was concerned about my
schooling and at times when he was home, he would come to take me in the evening. When the term ended, I was
second after a certain girl called Lucia. Personally, I saw nothing wrong with it, I was new in this school and second
position was not bad. I knew my position before the final assembly. The class teacher called me in the staff-room and
told me to kneel down. I was shocked because I always finished my homework and never got into problems with
others. As I worried, my teacher kept smiling. It was silent torture. There were five other teachers in the room and
they seemed not to bother that something had brought me to this office and I was kneeling down. Having
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ascertained that she made me angry, she finally asked me, “Victor, how and why did you allow a girl to beat you in
the final exams? I was semi shocked and semi surprised. What a nasty question. Lucia had scored very high in three
subjects in which I had performed averagely. She demanded an answer. As she kept on asking me, I thought to myself
how hypocritical people could be. Lucia was a woman and instead of calling her to congratulate her for good work,
she was making me kneel down for being second. “Listen Victor” she said, “you have to live up to the name I gave
you. I will make you what I want as long as you are here, next term I want to see you top of that class, understand?
The other teachers broke into laughter. I did not know what they were laughing at, whether it was coming second, or
being beaten by a girl. I wanted to shout at her and tell her that she was also a woman but I overcame my
displeasure. I was in control of my ego, but it was very fragile. My world was my own and it whirled speedily. She
waited until the other teachers left for the hall and congratulated me for putting a remarkable result. She asked if my
parents had plans of travelling with me upcountry during the holidays. I said I would not go home and that I stayed
with my uncle and I did not know his plans for the holidays. She dismissed me after giving instructions that I should
come to her house every single day during the holidays for extra coaching. She told me she was going to do this
because she wanted me top of the class. There was no payment for this. What a teacher gave me voluntarily then, is
what parents pay dearly for these days, in the names of remedial or tuitions.
I went to the hall a changed boy. Teacher Miriam had planted another seed in me. Even in fair competition girls were
none entities. After receiving our prizes, we went home. My uncle reiterated my teacher’s sentiments. He asked me,
after looking at my school report, “from which estate does the boy who came first come? I said, “uncle she is a girl
not a boy”. A what? He shouted. For some few minutes, I thought he was going to beat me up. “A girl for heaven’s
sake, why? Girls are not allowed to come before you son, take note of that” That evening he took me to watch a
cinema in town, he gave me a good treat at a cafeteria after that and we went back to the house. I told him that one
of my teachers had asked me to her house to be couched. He saw nothing wrong with that and consented.
The first day of holiday nearly got me into trouble. The estate children hatched a plan. We went to an estate that
was called section 58.We were to cut wires from the fence. With these wires, we were going to make cars and play
with. As we lay down cutting wires from a certain fence, some of the boys had sneaked into the home and climbed up
a fruit tree. The owners of the home set loose their dogs and a chase began. One of the boys was mauled by the dogs
nearly to death. I hid in a culvert and waited until the noise died down and people had gone away. When I got out of
the culvert, I was still trembling. That boy was taken to the hospital and later to the police. He named nearly all the
others except few of us. I swore to myself that I would never join the estate kids in any wrongdoing. The parents of
the named boys had to pay for the wires and the damage that might not have arisen from their children.
When I went to my teacher’s house, she had heard the news. “Why did you join the other boys in the act of thievery?
Had it not been my intervention for Philip not to mention you, perhaps you would have gone to jail, or your uncle
would have paid a hefty fine. I told you that I want to make out of you what I want. You are a man and you have to
behave as one, you hear?” This was a fifth person saying that I was a man. My father, my mother, grandfather, my
uncle and now my teacher. It would be irrational not take note of this issue of being a man. I wanted to avoid trouble
and was ready to allow myself be moulded to whatever shape the circumstances deemed fit. I had brought myself to
her house and I could not lie to her. She was calm and in control, looked at you searchingly that I knew she would
know if I lied. Facts remain facts, dad and mom were separated and I had nothing to do with it. I told her everything
in fine detail as far as I could remember, and by the time I left her house, she knew more about me and my estranged
parents than I knew about her. However, one single factor matched in our lives. She had a daughter whom she had
taken away from her husband when they had also separated but she was away at a boarding school. This left me
wondering if she had separated for the same reasons my parents had. I could not ask her beyond what she felt
comfortable telling me. By the time, I left for home we had become friends and she gave me school textbooks. She
did not like the boy I had fought, who had hitherto become my friend and warned me that that I had to avoid
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associating with him out the school. She lived in a different estate but knew all the bad things the boys of our estate
did.
The next day, when I knocked at the door, a girl opened for me. No doubt, this was the daughter; there was a lot of
semblance in physique and gait. Her presence made me uneasy but she struck off with me right away. Her mother
had left work for me. I did the work in a short time and I found ourselves speaking to one another as if we had known
each other before. She hated her school but her mother could not hear anything about that. After the work, we went
into the kitchen and she opened the refrigerator and got out a bottle of soda. This was the first time I saw a
refrigerator. I asked her why there was light in their cupboard. Instead of laughing at me, and my silly question, she
embarked on a lesson of what it was. As she educated me, I wondered to myself at how much food they had stored.
They had both an electric and gas cookers. She had hence become my instructor, on how to use the many gadgets in
their kitchen. Honestly, I was seeing for the first time many of these things save for the cutlery and the drawers. In
my heart I did not wish for her mother to come back, at least I needed more time to learn. I was really a village boy.
What better thing could I be when I had not seen in my lifetime, more than half what was held in their kitchen? What
set me apart from the common village boy was little. I had fought an estate boy of calling me a village boy but he had
been right. Who else but a village boy had not seen a refrigerator, an electric burner and gas burner? I knew a
television set and a radio but could not operate either. She knew my name perhaps because her mother had told her,
yet I felt ashamed to ask what her name was. Like mother like daughter, she was a good teacher and she had found a
willing student. She was miles ahead of me as far as living standards were. We created good rapport between us
henceforth.
When teacher Miriam came back, she went through my work with me while her daughter sat reading a pictures book.
She was my language teacher at school but she was coaching me in all the subjects. I would come to know her
daughter’s name, when she sent her to get drinking water. The way she taught at home was quite different from the
way she taught at school. At school, she had a high-pitched voice yet at home, she was very calm. I wished she were
my mother. When her daughter took long to come with the water, she called her name out. “Rebecca how much do
you have to pay for water? She appeared with a glass and a bottle of water. She did not shout at her, as would my
father. “Why did you take too long to bring me water dear? Her mother asked softly as if they were equal. “Sorry
mom, I remembered when I went for water that we did not leave out the fish that it can thaw out before cooking” In
her statement there was something I needed to learn about. There was no more shyness, they had me in their home
and I would cause no harm by asking anything I did not understand. I looked at Rebecca’s mother and asked, “What is
to thaw out? “Oh son, you do not have a fridge at your house. Do you? That is to let frozen food become warmer
until it is ready to cook. I hope you will not forget that. She gave me extra work and went into the kitchen herself. I
was busy doing the work but I noticed Rebecca go to join her mother and I could hear them laugh as they talked. I
could not hear their conversation but I thought to myself that may be they were laughing at me because I did not
know many things. Rebecca came back to the table and continued leafing through her picture book, while I did my
work. Her mother passed through the living room as she went into a corridor, I would come to know later that she
was going to the bathroom. She gave instructions as she went through, “you kids continue with your work and please
mind what I have left on the gas cooker for me” I had come to belong here, being told to mind the fire. However
shortly later I nearly broke into a run when I heard a “Shuuu…..” sound from the kitchen. Rebecca was not bothered
by the sound, and that made me ask her. “Rebecca your mom said we mind kitchen and that sound coming from the
kitchen, may be something is burning or is spilling onto the fire, can we go and have a look? She replied without
looking away from her book. Do not worry Victor that sound is from the pressure cooker. “What is pressure cooker?
“Food is cooked quickly by the pressure of hot steam in a tightly covered cooking pot, come on let us go, you may
have a look. I was amazed. The fire beneath the pot was blue. Two burners were on, one with this special pot on it
and the other had an ordinary pot on it. The water in the pot was boiling. ”Where did that noise come from? “Just
wait a little longer it is going to release hot steam again soon” What I thought was a handle for the lid, was its
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pressure releasing point. I did not wait long; it went off as her mother came into the kitchen. I thought of going back
to the table but she said, “You children wash your hands at the sink and help me prepare food for us” They were not
disconcerted by my ignorance.
I took my first cooking lessons in that house. Miriam was a good teacher and so was Rebecca. On one hand, she was
trying to make me outshine others at school and on the other hand was teaching me etiquette. It was true what she
had said that she would make out of me what she wanted. She meant every word of what she said and if anything,
she did add to it. Both of them were very liberal with the use of two words, ‘sorry’ and ‘please’. All they said seemed
to have these two words. She was treating me as a son, her own son. Had it been my choice I would have liked to stay
with them. Their bathroom had a huge bath tab and Rebecca would fill it with hot water before showing me in. While
I bathed, she would be reading or doing anything her mother asked her to do. We were worlds apart, yet we blended
amicably. My uncle Francis would listen to me as I recounted the occurrences of the day each evening. He was
another good one, no shouting, no beatings. He liked mathematics and had very many books. Some of the books had
examples that were for high school students. The estate had communal bathrooms and some days if you went in the
morning you would find poop in a corner or anywhere on the floor. Both my uncle and I did believe that the people
doing that were adults. I would wonder why in goodness sake they did not use the right place yet it was under the
same roof. It was different at my teacher’s estate. Each house had its washroom and the floors were ceramic tiles
kept sparklingly clean by the homeowner. Every time uncle would remind me that those who take their bookwork
seriously end up living like my teacher.
The days of school holidays passed as if they were flying. I had become used to Rebecca and we played together.
Sometimes her mother would stop abruptly in the middle of a lesson and say, “too much work, no play makes Jack a
dull boy, now, kids you can go out and play” I would protest that I did not want to play then but she would only laugh
and ask me what I wanted to do. When I said, I wanted to continue my lessons she would say, “Sure you are going to
continue after play, and I will give many exercises then because you will feel refreshed”. I would not go on weekends
but Rebecca would tell me all the things they did, the families they visited and the foods they ate at home or away at
the restaurants. The last Sunday before schools opened, I went to bid her bye. When I came to her house, her mother
was out at a friend’s house and Rebecca was packing her things. She had many textbooks, and her things included the
toilet soaps and oils. When finally she was done with the packing, she sat on the floor and looked at me. She looked
bothered and her eyes were teary, which made me ask her what the problem was. Instead of answering, she started
crying and I started to cry too. As we sobbed avoiding looking at one another, we did not hear her mother open the
door and come in. I was crying because I would miss her for the period she was going to be away. I had pushed to the
periphery the thought of mother and replaced that with teacher Miriam’s tender care. I did the same with the
thought of my dad and replaced him with Uncle Francis. I do not know how long she had been watching us sob but
when she spoke, I tried to dry my eyes with the back of my hands. “My little ones what has happened that you are
spilling your hearts like this? Please stop crying before you make me cry too. Let us go to the living room and find a
solution to your problem” She led the way and went to the dining table which had become our study place. She
pulled away from the table two chairs next to one another, pointed them for us and walked round to sit on the
opposite side. “Victor, why were you crying? “I was crying because Rebecca was crying and because she is going
away” she nodded and turned to her daughter, “And you Reba what made you cry? “Mom I do not want to go away
to that school I want to stay with you and go to school here” and she continued to sob. Her mother was patient, and
she did not care to wait. She did not try to calm her down either. She continued looking at us solemnly. When she
spoke, I heard the voice of a mother, composed, caring and loving. “My little children, you may not understand now,
but I am doing this for your good not mine. Reba save your tears for other pains, because to school you will go. You
have only two years at that school and remember that your fees has been paid for the full year. In addition to that, I
cannot afford to sacrifice your future because you do not know. That is the best school and the food is not bad too.
You are privileged to go that school Rebecca; many children would leave everything to get a place at that school. No
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sane mother would send away her child to suffer except if it is for the benefit of the child. You two have taken to one
another and do not always think you are going to remain children forever. What you do not like now might be what
you actually need to get a start off in life. She turned her face, looked at me and said, “Victor no man ever cries
because a girl is crying. I know that you like playing with Rebecca and doing the house chores together but school
time is important for both of you, I have my reason for allowing you come to my house, so do not lose your focus
because of a girl who thinks waking up every morning near her mother is all there is to life,” she looked at me again
and said to her daughter, “Victor has not seen his mother for some time now and his father has left him under the
care of an Uncle, yet he is not crying for that. The work at hand is massive for you and for I, period.
Rebecca got up and headed for the kitchen. Madam Miriam also left for her bedroom and I heard the door bang with
a force that I was not used to in this house. Obviously, she was angry and did not show it on her face neither did her
anger come out in her words. I was sensitive to mood pointers and changes. I knew she was angry and nothing could
convince me otherwise. Rebecca came from the kitchen as J struggled with my feelings. I did not look up at her until
she spoke. “Victor mom is upset, if you are upset too, I am sorry. I should have not cried in the first place” “What can
we do? I asked. “Nothing or something I do not know” I shocked her when I said, “I know”. “Let us go to her and
apologize” I said and rose up from the chair. She came after me as we went into the corridor and eventually came to
the door. I looked at her and there were no feelings in her eyes, yet she nodded. I knocked and waited. When I
knocked a second time, She said from inside, “Rebecca go away, sit with Victor at the table please I beg you” “It is not
Reba, it is I, Victor” I said. “Come in son” I opened the door and left it open for Rebecca to come in after me. I was
shocked to find her with tears on her cheeks. My God, she had gone in to cry. I did not know whether to go out or to
remain standing with Rebecca behind me. Opening the door was not only opening the door, but we also opened the
road to her heart. She motioned for us to go sit near her. I remember vividly how I felt when I sat beside her and
Reba on my side. I was sandwiched between mother and daughter and the air was still. Rebecca spoke first. “Mom
we are sorry we did not mean to upset you” “Don’t worry dear it is nothing” And I added, “but mom you are crying,
we hurt you please forgive us. She went into silence but when she spoke both us listened carefully. What she told us
lived to haunt me whenever I remember of them. She had met Rebecca’s father at college. He was a law student and
she was an arts student. They became friends and subsequently became lovers. When they graduated from college,
he went into practice before she could get a job herself. They moved in together, and when she conceived, he started
to drink and come home late. He would beat her for asking why he came in late. Miriam’s father was against the
marriage and said it would not work, but she loved Rebecca’s father and would not listen to her father. They had
their marriage registered legally to prevent her father from interfering. When the drinking continued and the
beatings became often she ran away with the baby. She had to go to court to make Rebecca’s father pay for their
upkeep. The case was ruled in her favor and Rebecca was left in her custody. She had found a good and expensive
school for Rebecca so that her father would pay more and have less to drink. She hoped that someday, they may
make up but it had come this far and was prepared to take everything at its pace. Even though the story was told in
my presence it was not meant for me, it was for Rebecca. There were many similarities between her and my mother’s
life save for the only difference that my father had my custody. Other differences were school and living standards
that by far was over what my parents could afford. That day Rebecca knew about her father. She only said, “I hate
him” She had got what was deep inside her heart out and looked relieved. “Go to the kitchen and put some water to
boil we need to eat though.” All the weaknesses of man revolve around the family structure, where you might think
there is much happiness there it is wanting. I do not know how Rebecca felt but already I was in such a boat and had
my paddles on my hands. I was steering myself in the vast sea of humanity with no landing on sight. My father had
reduced his coming to once fortnightly and at times, I would catch Uncle worrying himself.
The schools opened and I had strict instructions not to let the children know that I was getting extra coaching. I had
also to avoid absolute involvement with other estate boys. Madam Miriam called them bad association. To me she
was a mother, a human being with feelings not elevated from the rest of us. When school ended in the evenings, I
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would take a different route home. That footpath went through the municipal burial grounds. Other schoolchildren
feared taking that route and there were stories of ghosts speaking to the people. As often as I would take the route, I
became bold and at times would wonder off to read the names on the crucifixes of the people who lay buried there.
Not a day did a ghost appear to me and I reasoned that if they existed then they were cowards. The boy who was
mauled by the dog lost part of his ear and as others laughed at him, I would keep quiet. I knew that he had saved me
by not mentioning me and it was because of Madam Miriam. The dog could have got anybody, even I or even the
other boys who were making jokes of him. It was unfair to laugh at him and I promised myself not to. One morning
Uncle Francis gave me a shilling to spend at school. The boy who others laughed at came to my mind and I decided to
give him a treat at break time. As we ate our crisps at break, two boys came by. One of them was in the group that
had gone to steal the fence wires with us. The way they looked at us made me know they were going to make fun of
him or us. They bought their crisps and as they left, one of them looked at us and said, “Be careful, the dogs might
come for the other ear” I felt my blood boil in me. It had to stop for worse or for good. I got hold of him by the collar
and gave him a thump on the face. He hit back and within seconds, it was a fight. By the time senior boys from class
seven, came to separate us he was bleeding from the nose and mouth. Even the boys who stopped the fight roughed
him up and herded us to the Headmaster’s Office. When we came to the office, one of the boys knocked and pushed
us in, and said, “Sir we found these boys fighting. The headmaster looked at him and I, and said, “my God, lie down
both of you” I knew how to get out of problems and he did not. I obeyed and he did not complaining bitterly that I hit
him with a stone. In fact, he was bleeding but not from a wound caused by a stone. I went flat on my stomach and
waited patiently for the punishment to begin but he kept arguing with the teacher. Instead of lying down, he gave me
a kick where I was lying. His action angered the teacher. He shouted at the boys who brought us to him, “get me
some canes and call Madam Miriam before I kill this insolent fool” I had hit him first, but he had ruined his case by
being disobedient.
The canes and Madam Miriam arrived simultaneously. When he saw the sticks, he made for the door but the teacher
caught him. The head teacher was on him and by the time he turned his attention to me his anger had abated. He
gave me two very weak strokes and asked us to stand. I stood up and said, “thank you sir” It was my first time to get
into trouble with the teacher. Madam Miriam was looking at me with an expressionless face. I wished the ground to
open and swallow me but it could not. The teacher went back to his chair and asked, “What made you bring fight to
school you boys? He spoke first. “This village goon hit me with a stone and you have caned me instead of him” It was
amusing how in anger he was accusing the teacher. “Enough idiot” bellowed the teacher. He looked at me and said,
“Why did you hit him? “Thank you sir, this boy found us out at the gate eating our crisps when they went to buy
theirs and as they came in he made fun of my friend and I felt hurt but I did not hit him with a stone , it was my fist
sir. “What fun was it? Sir, it has become usual for them to scorn the boy who was bitten by the dogs by calling him
names. Every now and again, they call him half ear and yet it was by bad luck that the dogs got him instead of the
others, including him. “Sit out both of you” said the teacher. He led the way out and when I came out after him, I
scared him. I made a face and did as if I was going to bite him. He shot off shouting at the top of his voice. He ran
towards the field and the teacher came out of the office and asked loudly, “what is it again? I had pulled a trick on
him and I was going to make use of his absence. “Sir he just shot off without cause calling you names as he ran away”
It worked, the teacher got angry and said, “That naughty idiot dare call me names in my school, run along to class
seven and get some older boys, go after him and bring him here fast eh! As I ran to class seven, I was regretting
saying that he called the teacher names. I did not know what I would say if we brought him back should I be asked
what he called the teacher. He had made me angry and I had hit him for abusing my friend. The lessons had resumed
and there was a teacher inside the class seven. I knocked and waited until he opened and asked me politely, “what is
it boy? “The head teacher is asking that some older boys come with me to go after the boy who has just ran away. He
went back inside and I heard him call out three boys among them Wallace. It did not take us long to find him, he had
removed his school shirt and was wiping his eyes with it. The boys carried him as he yelled abuses at them. I was
pleased; he was making more enemies who would corroborate my story. “Leave me alone I do not want to go to that
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silly teacher,” he protested. “You hear what he is calling our head teacher Wallace” Wallace looked at me and said, “I
think we should put him down and let you give him a good beating,” he protested further. When we came to the
office, he had become silent because the older boys were pinching him. Wallace knocked and went in leaving the
door open. “Sir, this boy is so insolent, he is even calling you silly, I wanted to beat him myself before we reached
here” “O.K Wallace, bring them in, go back to class and let me deal with it in my way. Madam Miriam was still in the
office and I saw her face twitch with anger as she shouted out at the boy. “Martin how dare you call us silly? She tried
to pick one of the canes on the table, but was restrained by the headmaster. The headmaster looked at him and said,
“Martin pick your books and go home. Come here in the morning with your father tomorrow. “Victor go back to
class,” I said thank you and left. As we walked along, he kept on cursing loudly. I did not mind him anymore I knew he
had lost his case by being over reactive and if left on one and another perhaps he would end up bleeding more.
My science teacher was in class when I asked to come in. He motioned me in with his hand without stopping. I got
only the last few sentences of the lesson and he began to give notes as we copied after him. At the end of the lesson,
he looked at me and asked, “Vitalis where were you when I came in? I stood from the chair and told him that I was at
the head teacher’s office with a boy who had called the head teacher silly. What class does he come from? He asked
once more. “Four green sir.” He looked at the class and murmured to himself. “Oh my god, what a bad day for him”
Madam Miriam came in for the next lesson and she did not betray her feelings on her face. When the lesson ended, I
was shocked to hear her say, “Vitalis, who was renamed Victor, go to the captain and ask him to give you a prefects’
badge. From today onwards, you are the class prefect. My hands were henceforth tied at my back. Prefects were
supposed to maintain high order of discipline. They were not allowed to touch anybody but their word was believed
by the teachers even if it were a lie. This was a mechanism to deter my brutal nature. Madam Miriam had her way of
dealing with things. May be that is why she was the school discipline master. I knew it was required of prefects to be
in school earlier than the others require and to be clean and tucked in all the time. With it came the privilege of
standing at the teachers’ side during the assembly. However, you could be called out any time of the day by the duty
master to do any work assigned. She had succeeded, I had failed but I was not remorseful. I would be leaving late
because prefects had to make sure that all the classrooms had been locked, pick whatever was left by other pupils
and keep them in the staffroom. There was going to be no more cemetery excursions. She had nailed me with my
own game. I remained to wonder what would occur on Saturday afternoon when I would go to her house. Would I go
or not? There was no defense; I could make failure to attend lessons at her house. I left things in the hands of fate
believing that things would work out themselves. I went to her house and had my lessons as usual. It had become a
routine that after lessons, we would go into the kitchen. This first Saturday there was only the two of us; Rebecca had
gone back to her good-bad school.
I had learnt to cut onions in different ways for different purposes, could make some dishes with ease and every time
we were in the kitchen I learnt something new. It was my delight to learn and it was her pleasure to teach. When I
was ready to leave for home, I would always ask to leave. She kept on looking at me as if she had something to say
but could not say it. I eventually asked her, “Madam are you giving me some exercises to do at home this evening and
tomorrow? She leaned against the kitchen tables and smiled at me. “No Victor I was wondering why your small hands
cause a lot pain to others when you are angry. Can you find something to do about your temper? You cannot protect
everyone and cannot even protect yourself in certain circumstances. People do not settle scores by fighting. If you
keep on getting into problems and fights, you will ruin your life. You have lesser strength than your rage and that is
the worst disadvantage because one day you will meet your match and it may be bad for you. Now listen to me
carefully, do not be the first one to start a fight and never be the first join a fight. That evening when I came home
Uncle Francis was sitting on the verandah with his hand on the chin. I knew there was something bothering him but
he could not share it with me. Whether it was the responsibility of taking care of me or the absence of his family I
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could not find out. As they always said adults’ matters concerned adults and I would not find out what really it was
however hard and discreet I would try.
The new term was with a lot of goodness for me. I was a prefect and was far ahead of others in terms of syllabus
coverage. It was like going over the same lesson twice. By mid-term, it had become obvious that I would come top. I
had led in all monthly tests and other teachers were taking more interest in me. If I failed to get something correct, I
would be called to the staff room and the subject teacher would go over it with me. I was enjoying some privileges
that some pupils did not. I went through the cemetery on two occasions not to avoid other children but to get
soapstone. The gravediggers would heap lots of soapstone from the newly dug graves. I selected the size I wanted
and picked my way amidst the graves trying to figure out how many had recently been buried. My Uncle was so
superstitious that had he known where I brought the soapstone from perhaps he would not allow it into his house.
With the soapstone, I made a model of a car and it earned me high marks from the arts and crafts teacher.
I came top beating Lucia who had led the previous term. My uncle promised me a visit at the racecourse. The next
week when I went to my teacher’s house Rebecca was back from school. It was at a double for Madam Miriam. Her
daughter also led her class and she promised to take us to Lake Nakuru to watch flamingoes. The lessons heightened
in terms of quality and quantity. When I went to the racecourse, I enjoyed motorbike races than the racecars. The
riders wore shinning helmets and watching them maneuver the corners was spectacular. The organizers gave us
paper hats and flags at the gate. As they zoomed past the stands, where everybody instead of sitting stood to cheer,
flags colored the air. Parents carried their children shoulder high to have good view. I was wondering how many of
the happy faces carried up high were on other people’s shoulders other than their parents like I. I saw some of my
schoolmates, some with their parents, and others on their own. I wondered if Rebecca and her mother were
somewhere in the lake of people. Uncle Francis was a loving parent and I wished his children were here to enjoy. He
bought me bubble gums, sweets and later soda and cake. It was a real treat and I was happy all through.
In the evening, we went home. We had met one acquaintance of my Uncle. They might have been workmates as
what they talked about revolved around work conditions. I had three flags, red, blue and green. As with other boys, I
had something to show off at the estate to those who did not attend. I am of the opinion that Francis would have
made a good teacher like Madam Miriam. He had ways of finding out if everything he said could be remembered. The
goodness that my dad had promised me, someone else was giving. We came home to find a letter beneath the door.
Uncle Francis read the letter and became withdrawn as he would sometimes. However, he kept talking to himself in
undertone. I could not get all what he was whispering but just a few words. “It cannot be!” he would say repeatedly. I
thought that something must be seriously wrong wherever that letter came from. At mealtime, I had garnered
enough courage to ask. He made the food but sat on the bed with the letter in his hands. He encouraged me to eat
yet he was not eating. “Uncle, what is wrong? Has the letter upset you? I did not wait for him to answer me. I
continued talking. “You know, we always eat together and I believe if there is a problem it our problem why are you
brow-beating yourself over it alone, why don’t you share it with me, even if it carries the message of death” I got him
unawares. “Yes, it our problem, my problem in particular but it includes you because you are my brother’s son. Your
grandfather and my brothers at home want me to go home urgently. They have found a wife for me, yet I did not ask
them to look for one. How can they do that? Anybody who might have heard us would think two adults were
discussing that matter. “Uncle, have you ever disobeyed your father? “Yes, in some matters I have, why ask? “That
means that you can still go home, see the woman and if you do not like her, you tell your father so but if you find that
you like her, you take her. I do not think they are ever going to tie her with a rope around you waist and force you to
bring her to town. You can choose to disobey or obey after seeing” He bent down and looked at my face, “My son
you have spoken with an old man’s mouth, but not with wisdom. Fathers can curse or bless you and that is why I am
worried” He did not know that arguing and making my side up was my game. “That letter did not come by post
whoever brought it will be here to confirm if you got it and if your father can curse you for disobeying him then he
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will surely do it if you fail to go home; What if they choose to bring her here, what will you do? “Son, you have won, I
have to go home. I will make arrangements for your meals and tell you when I will be going” “Now can you eat uncle?
I was thrashed into the world of adults at an early age with its uncertain tempo of problems. I had seen more
separations than other kids my age. What revolved about me was estrangement. My own parents were separated,
my Uncle was separated, my best friend and teacher and a score of others who I may not like to mention. It looked so
normal that husbands and wives separate at any slight and negligible reason. Some were forced into it while others
saw it as a way of settling marital wrangles. Despite many cultural checks, still many children were left to grow under
single parentage. The parent in whose custody the child was used every means available to malign the other partner.
I would have my own debate questioning the reason behind all these separations. It was unbelievable that all could
be aggrieved by the reasons mentioned. I had not thought about the children who were orphans. Sometimes when
we sat with Uncle, he would tell me that every seven-year-old boy was wiser than any woman was. I knew the things I
could argue about with anybody and I would not get into argument with him if I knew they would tell me “wait till
you grow up you will find out” I do not know if my children doubt me the way I doubted my father and uncles. I knew
my uncle could not provide even three reasons why he said boys were wiser than women were. Culture had made
gender inequality more announced. It was common to believe that women were lesser humans than men were. From
the day I had participated in that debate, I was convinced that something was wrong somewhere. The society looked
down on them. In the estate where we lived women did more work than men. As I was preparing each morning for
school some of them were at the water tap with loads of laundry to do, after which they did the dishes and in
between prepared meals for their families and even looked after other younger children. I would try to break down
the meaning of housewife to get my own meaning for it. I had since compared the dictionary meaning of the word
against what I saw but I would always feel that inner sympathy for their oppressions. This inequality bred tyranny
that would leave in its wake traumatized children when separation or divorce occurred. Even though it was
unjustified, I could not correct it.
The following week another page opened in my uncle’s book of life. I had just arrived home from school and he was
not at home. I wanted to go take my bath before the washrooms were made dirty but as I collected the necessities,
there was a knock at the door. I went to the door and my gaze was met by an elderly woman. “Young boy is this
Francis’ house? She had behind her on the ground a big suitcase and a sack. I said, “Yes it is but he is not in. The other
woman who had brought her to the door helped her bring in her luggage. Who was this and why in the first place did
she arrive in my uncle’s absence? I put aside the idea of going to the bathrooms and sat about. When the woman
who brought her in she asked, “what is your name? I simply said, “Odera” “Oh! You have grown, are you not
Ochieng’s son? My! You were only a little boy when I went away. I should have looked at you properly, true to my
words you look like your father” I did not know her yet she knew me. “I am your mother, Francis’ first wife, by the
way, where is your mother and father” I least expected that question and it bit me terribly. Not because I could not
explain their whereabouts, but because of their separation. I hated explaining what I was actually a victim to.
However, an adult had asked and an answer was expected. She set my head whirling by saying ‘first wife’, which was
suggestive of a second wife being somewhere. I wanted to accuse her that she had taken away my cousins and got
married to someone else, but I restrained myself. “Do not worry my son your mother was only a vessel that brought
you but your upbringing belongs to the whole of the clan” What she said eased me a bit. I went to take my bath
knowing that she would not go away in my absence. When I came from the baths, she was unpacking the sack that
contained foodstuff. She had brought a lot of food that I knew my uncle would be pleased with her. She had also lit
the charcoal burner and there was a cooking pot with water in it on the fire. What was she preparing to cook in a pot
that was rarely used? It was larger than the rest of the other pots in the house. The sight of smoked fish made me
salivate. I kept the soap and went for my books. I wanted to go out to avoid her prodding questions for I knew they
would come, but I knew she would not allow me. I had barely opened my books than the questioning came. She
started by asking, “How late does your uncle come in everyday? “No, he is never away, unless he is tied up at a
friend’s house but he is normally here when I arrive from school and we eat together before we retire to bed. “And
the friend you are saying is a woman you mean? I could not protect nor malign him. Moreover, I answered, “I do not
know whether it is a woman or a man, he has never told me” “I know he cannot tell you if he is seeing a woman
either” At her last word there was a knock at the door, and uncle came in before we answered the knock. My uncle
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Walking on the cold embers
had no expression on his face that I could assess his feelings with. He threw what he brought onto the table and sat
down. “How are people where you came from? After the exchange of greetings, she went into the kitchen to
continue her cooking. “The house smells of fish you brought us fish Christine? She poked her head out and said, “It is
my mother who sent you the fish”
We ate and went to sleep. The first change of arrangements took place. Instead of sleeping on the sofa as always, my
bedroom was hence the kitchen. I spread one blanket on the floor and remained with one for covering. At the start of
the night, I fell asleep very fast. The floor was relatively warm and I was full and exhausted. From then on, I would not
do the dishes. She would not allow it. I felt something close to having a mother around. She would wake me up,
remove my beddings and light the fire. After breakfast, she would hurriedly help me put on school uniform and leave
for school. She was relief because there was one to look after my meals and washing and within three days, we were
getting along nicely. I had even told her of my teacher and the coaching I was getting at her house every Saturday and
during school holidays. On the first weekend, she sent me in the morning to get water from the standpipe that was a
few meters from the house. Three women were at the tap washing and as I waited for my bucket to fill up, one of
them looked up at me and asked, “What is that old woman doing in your father’s house? The tiger in me, which for
time had come down, awoke. I wanted to be utterly rude because on very many occasions, they would ask me things
to do with my uncle and as I left, I would hear them break into laughter. I kept quiet instead and she walked over to
the tap and closed it. Anger overcame me and I thought of picking a stone as my uncle had told me sometime earlier,
”pick a stone and aim for the head” However I walked off towards the house amidst their calls to come back. I looked
over my shoulder and saw her open the tap and return to her washing. I walked to the house and threw the door
open I became angrier; I wanted to set both my uncle and aunt against them. “The women at the tap have refused to
let me take my bucket of water, I said. “Why? Uncle asked from the bed where he still was. They asked me what you
are doing with an old woman in the house and I kept quiet” It worked according to my will. Uncle rose up from the
bed and as he fumbled to put on the trouser, he had started yelling. Aunt Christine shot out the house like a bullet
and made for the tap. I came out the house as she reached the women and she was shouting at them and asked
“Who asked about me, who? The other two women pointed at the woman who asked. I thought my aunt was going
to beat her but she swished away the wrap-around cloth she had. What a sight! She wore nothing beneath it. As she
ran to her house, the estate boys shouted after her. My aunt was also shouting obscenities after her. “Stop hawking
your naked body to children you woman” My uncle stood behind me and watched at the drama smiling. Aunt
Christine threw down the cloth and picked the bucket. The other women bent over their washing but no doubt, they
were giggling. “Next time” my uncle said to me, “do what your aunt has done and call me, or better still pick a stone”
There was to be no next time, but anytime I met either of those women they would break into laughter. I knew what
they were laughing at but I kept my cool. On Monday at school, the news had reached Madam Miriam but it had
been adulterated. In place of my aunt, it was me. However, we had joked about it with other boys as I watched over
them collecting litter behind the classrooms, I did not know it had reached the teachers. At break time when I was
summoned to the staffroom, I did not know why. I checked that I was properly tucked in, made my socks and wiped
dust from my shoes and went. There was unusual number of teachers and they were having some sort of argument
and laughing When I came to the door I heard one them say, ”here he comes” I knew outright that I was the cause of
argument and laughter in the staffroom. I knocked and waited to be asked in. One of the male teachers rose from his
chair and stood before Madam Miriam saying; promise Madam you are not going to punish him before he tells us the
whole episode. She mumbled her “I promise” quietly. I went in and looked at their faces and they all looked happy
except Madam Miriam. She asked in a tense voice, “Victor why did you choose to humiliate a woman, a mother? I
was lost, I did not comprehend easily what she asked and I asked her politely. “What woman Madam? She shouted
back at me. “The one you made go naked at the estate” Instead it amused me and I laughed, one of the male
teachers jumped up clapping and laughing. “You see I said it, he did, and look he is laughing hooray! I cleared my
voice and looked at Madam Miriam; I could see the hurt in her eyes. I felt sorry for her I knew she would remain
angry with me for a long time. I looked up at her and said, please teacher, it was not me, and it was my aunt. The
room became quite as I narrated how I was sent for water and how that woman made me angry and I went back to
the house to tell my uncle. I explained systematically how I just repeated her words in the house and that my aunt
went for her at the tap. It was very hard to explain but I found the words easily. “She did so fast and I did not expect
she was going to do what she did. Within a twinkle of an eye, I saw her take away the cloth and the woman broke
into a run for her house with the estate boys shouting,” They all laughed including Madam Miriam and I was relieved.
The male teacher who suggested that I did it laughed loudest and asked me, ”What did you see? Madam Miriam
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Walking on the cold embers
came to my rescue. “Mr. Lukhano, be an adult what do you want a ten-year-old boy to tell you he saw? Be serious,
you are joking over an issue which is demeaning to someone. I wish it were your wife and I would see and hear how
loud you would laugh. Victor, tell him you saw a naked woman” I looked at the teacher and seeing the fun he was
making at the issue made me angry. “Sir, she was not naked, she had a blouse on and if you want to ask who saw her
proper perhaps I can take you to my aunt…. However, Madam Miriam cut me short with her usual, “Period” She
apologized instead and asked me to go away. As I left, the bell went and I ran straight for class.
True to Madam Miriam’s word earlier, the estate boys were bad. May be one of them wanted to be in good books
and was pushing my name the wrong direction. I would avoid them more and more and if anything the ones with
whom we shared class were in deep problem. Once they made noise, their names ended with the teacher on duty
and the discipline teacher. Within that month, two things happened that would have a serious change on my life.
Another uncle arrived from home accompanied by the new woman they had found for my uncle. She was far younger
than Aunt Christine, but she had a baby. They arrived after I had left to school in the morning. They travelled by train
and because the train reaches Nakuru by midnight, they had to wait until morning because they could not risk
mugging while it was night. When I came for lunch, I found them sitting together in the house; perhaps they were
discussing the subject of Uncle’s marriage. They stopped talking when I entered, but I could sense the tense air
around them. Aunt Christine gave me my food; I ate and left for school again. The second thing that sunk me deeper
was the announcement that Madam Miriam would only be with us until the end of that term. She had been
transferred to another school. The school was many kilometers from Nakuru. It was common knowledge that she
would move out of town to the new location. She was happy because she had risen and was going to head the new
school but I was not happy. That Saturday when I went to her house, I had no lessons. It was not because she did not
want to give but because I was devastated somewhere within me. Tension had already started to build at the house
and Aunt Christine was waiting for the month to end so she may move back home. Uncle Francis would not talk as he
used to; anytime he would be home, he would be engrossed in his math books or would be reading some newspaper.
The only happy person or the one who showed a smiling face was Aunt Christine. I started to wish that my father
come for me, but when I remembered his violent temper, I pushed it aside. I had to accept that the women I was
attached to were not my mother.
I was always early to leave for school. Sometimes I would leave even before breakfast was ready. Madam Miriam’s
keen eyes noted the problem. I did not know why she would always read my mind as if was a book spread before her.
The school debate that week was very dull. I was the speaker and I could not allow any pupil to interrupt at any time.
At their mention of “point of interruption Mr. Speaker Sir” I would blurt out my, ”not accepted” When we left the hall
Wallace came after me, I was going to the water room not to drink but to cool my face which to me was burning. He
embraced me and we walked quietly. He did not ask me what it was, but just came with me and waited while I
splashed my face with cold water. When I was done and ready to leave, he stood in my way. I wanted to tell him to
go to hell, but I could not. I knew if I did that, we may end exchanging and he was older and stronger that I could not
put a fight with him, moreover he was also a prefect. I walked out round him and he followed. Had I known that
Madam Miriam was outside I would not have walked out then. Wallace stood directly behind me and when the
teacher reached us Wallace put his hand on my shoulders. My heart was heavy with the pain of her leaving and my
aunt’s leaving too. “You little rascal what is bothering you, that you made the debate very unlovely for others? Here
comes again, some other pupil had reached her and reported! Both of us stood looking at her. “Do not ever think that
you are capable of correcting injustices by being angry. I have told you severally before that, you are a man and real
men do not show their heavy hearts on their faces. You will remain here while I go to the new school, however
depending on the willingness of your people I may want that you come and leave with me. You ought to know also
that this is a school not a battle field and each and every child must behave appropriately” She had reduced me to my
size by this short lecture and I was leaning against Wallace. I did not know that I was crying until she said it. “There
goes one of your other weakness, tears like Rebecca. What is it that is beating you from inside? You stand even the
most painful corporal punishment without tears but you cannot stand against your own heart. I leaned further on
Wallace and I felt him tightening his hold on my shoulders. The teacher said to him, “Wallace make sure you are
there for this boy until the end of the year. Take him to class and come to the head teacher’s office, period. Home
was cold hell, my uncle’s wives were not talking to one another and he had developed some sort of a dislikeable
countenance.
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Walking on the cold embers
I looked at my exams as an opponent. I wanted them to come for I wanted something to vent my anger on. I scored
very high marks in each subject. It was the custom of the school that at end of the term, the top three in each class
had to be given prizes. These prizes ranged from books to pens and on occasions math sets. The prizes were never
wrapped and the recipients knew exactly what they got and even the other pupils did. They usually started by the
lower classes going up. However, this day there were some wrapped prizes. I was wondering who would get them
and actually, what was wrapped. When the three of us from our class were named, and we came forward to take our
prizes, I was surprised that I received the usual prizes and one wrapped prize. I did not know what was inside and the
head teacher asked whoever received a wrapped prize not to open it while still at school. “Take it home and tell your
parents that today you got wrapped prizes, open at home and celebrate! The others who got nothing pull up your
socks next term” After the closing prayer everyone was in a hurry to go away. Some because they had something to
show at home others because they had nothing. The prizes had lifted my spirit a notch high but I dreaded going to a
home where everyone was gloomy. I had no choice I had to and I went home. Aunt Christine was braiding some
woman’s hair out the house. She looked jovial, may be because she had a fellow woman she was talking to making
gestures with her hands to someone who was not even seeing. She looked behind, saw me, and gestured with her
hands. I came to where they were. “Seems you won something at school son, what was your position? I sat down on
the grass and told her to guess my position. “Number one? “Yes Auntie, how did you know? “That wrapped gift gave
you out, what is it? “I do not know yet, until I unwrap it” When I did, it was school uniform. I jumped up in glee and
shouted in joy. Aunt Christine was happy for me too.
Soon I had to shrink back into my shell, that cocoon which glutted me with unhappiness. I had a father and a mother
but I seemed to be an orphan. Now that schools were closed, the new aunt thought she would make a baby sitter out
of me. She would put the baby on my lap and most of the time the baby would leave poop on me. I hated it, why did
they not find a baby sitter anyway. Aunt Christine was a woman of insight, and she knew without telling that I was
not pleased with the new aunt’s arrangement. Ouch! The baby urinating on me, and damn shit on my shorts, it was
not my kind of liking. Whatever the circumstances I had to find a way of being out of the house most times and
essentially, when the kid was awake. Just recently, my Uncle had confirmed that Aunt Christine would move back to
the village. I knew it would be tough to live here but what come may I had to persevere and wait for Madam Miriam
to settle in her new location before coming for me. I hoped my father would not refuse. As the laughter that had
sprouted in Uncle Francis’ house waned, it ground my heart. It was a stay for convenience not based on or near the
parameters of genuine love for one another. Some statements may stick long in one’s life and mind. I could
remember the caution from my teacher that whatever the injustices we saw, no matter how hard we strived we
could not correct them. I was brazing myself for the hard future; what was before me was beyond any remedy I could
think of.
Aunt Christine’s railway pass was ready a week before her departure. The Railways cooperation had a good system to
cater for their employees and family. The pass was issued free. The applicant provided proof of employment or
marriage and there goes! He got a pass. It was now a proven fact that auntie would leave soon. I went with her to
town when she went to do shopping. It was a relief for me to be out the house. We walked to town and she used the
time we were together to console both herself and I. She was angry that a new co-wife had been sought instead of
Uncle going for his other wife who had ran away with three sons. “You see, my son this woman who was brought
here has someone else’s child. Your uncle does not want to swallow his pride and go after his real wife the one I
welcomed at your ancestral home. I had to accept because I am barren. I cannot give your uncle children, but the
other woman could and of course, she did, three sons in succession. I knew she had covered my nakedness.
Moreover, all over a sudden when they came to town, your uncle started to complain of the way she was keeping the
house. Three children who are not triplets do not come overnight my son. Your other auntie stayed for some time
before she went away because of beating. When she went away the whole home turned against me that I had
broken the relation with magic. I swear by my life that I have never touched magic, and I cannot do that in opposition
to my husband” This was a new dimension. Therefore, my uncle was also a wife batterer. If one wife had run away
because of beating then he was capable of doing the same to any woman. Beneath the calm face lay the lion ready to
devour!
We escorted Auntie to the rail station on the day she was going home. I really wanted to see and get into a passenger
train. Even with all persuasion that it was not good for a child to be walking at night they could not succeed. She
carried her suitcase on her head and Uncle Francis carried her bag. I carried her basket that had nothing other than
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Walking on the cold embers
food she was to eat on the way. It was an all-night journey. On our way back to the house well past midnight I asked
my uncle if he would help me convince my dad to allow me to go live with Madam Miriam at her new school. One
would think I had dropped a bomb on him; it took me with surprise when he told me to forget about it. In the first
place, he would not allow it, let alone my father. His reason for the rude refusal was that the said teacher was not
from our tribe. “We want you to grow up with the values of our tribe which by all standards outshines many other
tribes. Odera my son you have gone out of your mind to request to live with another woman, do you want to become
her husband? I lost all the respect I vested in him that night. However, because I knew I was between a rock and hard
place, I continued the argument. “But uncle if bad a woman she is why did you allow me to go to her house for
coaching? What does tribe help in as long as we can communicate and she has a daughter who is slightly older than I
am. I do not think she ever means bad for me. Apart from the encouragement, she is a mother and she likes me! Eh!
Therefore, you want to get married to her or her daughter? Tell me which? The only bad thing with you is that you do
not want to listen first, if anyone was following us he would think you have lost your head in reality because I am but
a child. He kept quiet. I became egocentric as much as he did. I wanted to hurt him and I knew where to hit. I asked
him softly, “Uncle when are you going for my cousins? “What cousins, wherefore? “I mean your sons who went away
with their mother” I knew I had him below the belt. It was night and he could not spunk me. “Those are matters of
adults” he retorted and kept quiet. I was not going to stop the onslaught until I was satisfied that he felt the way I
felt. “Uncle if they are for adults then it’s a paradox. It is because on one hand you are accusing I of wanting to
become my teachers’ I-do not-know- what, whereas on the other hand when I ask about my cousins you call me a
child. Uncle cannot you accept that the whole lot of you are just wicked? He did not answer and he kept moving. It
was my battle I had won, and they are the kind that does not concede at any cost. I wanted to test his ego once
more. “Uncle why are some light blue, red and green? “I do not work with the electricity cooperation boy, keep quiet
or when we reach home, you will get a beating! He reminded me, for a long time now I had not been beaten in their
way of beating.
Therefore, the goodness that he had displayed vanished in a single night. I let my mind wonder off to the things I had
been told by Aunt Christine. I knew that if ever I crossed his path at the right time he would beat me. I had to mind
my own business henceforth but I would not stop before I ask my father. When finally I asked my father, he refused
utterly. I knew they had talked about it because my dad did not allow me enough audience. He issued edicts and
threats. I knew the stuff they were made of, and I did not want to quash my own life by worrying. Let it be! With the
absence of Aunt Christine, life changed drastically. I would not stay in the house a lot but played with other estate
boys. I would sometimes walk over to where older boys were playing money games. A small hole was made on the
ground, and they would throw coins into it. The goodness in this game was gain and loss. At the start of the game,
they would stand three meters from the hole, and throw a coin to the hole. The nearer your coin was to the hole
determined your chance of playing. The coins that one managed to throw into the hole became his. I mention this
game because I would later play it. One needed a ten cent coin as a start and when the game ended it was either he
had lost or gained. When I grew up, I came to consider that game as gambling and truly, it was.
The other estate boys who were living with their relatives who did not care for them properly knew some survival
tricks that they taught me. We would walk to the creamery and buy milk. It was not milk in the real sense but water
that had very little milk in it. A shilling would buy two gallons. It was far but we would walk. When we came to the
estate, the gallons had to be hidden. We had to wait for four days for it to coagulate, and would run out half of it that
was water then put together the remainder. It was very sour but it was better than going on an empty stomach. I had
since started washing my own clothes. My aunt could not wash for me even if she was doing the laundry. She did
wash my uncles’ clothes, her’s and her child’s. She made feel like I was a foreigner. With the passing of the days, our
relation deteriorated progressively. Whenever she gave me her child to carry, I would pinch it. The kid would howl
and I would be called into the house and get the same. She did not know that she was dealing with a hardened
human. The pinching would give me an excuse to stay out as much as I wanted. There was no use staying in the
house because even mealtime kept on changing. I was a lone wolf, but I had made friends with a certain man whom
we had never seen his family even though he said he had a wife and children. He was also a habitual drunkard and
did not like doing the dishes. He would leave me the keys to his house and I would do his dishes and sweep the
house. My payment would be a five-shilling note and on certain days the foods, he left over. I would heat on his
kerosene stove and eat. I did everything I could to make sure I ate something, except that I did not pick from the
dustbins. The cooking oil tins we picked would be turned into flower vases that would be sold for money or food. We
even made from these tins little toy cars that we sold to mothers of young children who could not make on their
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Walking on the cold embers
own. My name that Miriam had given me had become the name I was called by in the estate. I was winning all the
way, as I went, gradually.
When schools opened for the third term, things became a little difficult. Sometimes I would come home for lunch but
it would not be ready. On such occasions, I would drink water and go back to school. My uncle had also been taken
out the town and he would come on Saturday and leave on Sunday evening. The coins game I had learnt became my
means of earning and I would use the money to buy bread and milk from the shops when there was no food ready. It
was not because there was no food in the house but it was because it was not prepared on time. My perils doubled, I
was assigned one particular drawer to keep my things. The house rules became many and the more they became the
harder it became to keep them. This would earn me pinching on the ears and on certain occasions, my head would be
knocked against the wall. Something akin to my father’s brutality had now surfaced in my Uncles house. I would get
relief only on weekends when he was at home. He would take me to the cinema depending on his mood and the time
of the month.
Suddenly I fell sick and became very weak. I ran very high fever with palpitations. Several times, I vomited and I lost
appetite. Nobody bothered to take me to the hospital. My father visited unexpectedly and found me in that state. He
was this time moved by my condition. He took me to the hospital and eventually to the estate where he lived. It was
really far from my school but he would give me money for transport to school in the morning. In the evening, I would
walk home. I carried lunch-box to school. His brutal nature had eased up but he was drinking heavily. I would make
my food, thanks to the lessons Rebecca and her mother gave me. He worked day and night, during the day as a
spanner boy in a garage and at night as a security guard. During the weekends, he would go with his friends out to
drink. I did not know what kind of liquor he used but they would come back drunk. He would ask me to light a
charcoal burner on which they would roast meat and start eating even before it was ready. All the time I would be
thinking of my mother and the other women I knew in my short life. It was very absurd that those who had done me
well that I could remember were neither my parents. The walk back home from school was tiring and rigorous. I was
also making new friends in a different locality. The terrain was also different and difficult as well. This estate lay
beside another estate that wealthy people lived in. It was like the figurative parasitic tree growing out of a fruit tree.
These estates depended on one another. The slum provided the house helps, gardeners, security guards and a few
stewards who did not live in their masters servant quarters. On the other hand, the affluent society beside the slum
provided an environment that both of them thrived on side by side. While it had tarmacked roads and side-roads, the
slum had dirt roads. Dust was everywhere. Children from the other estate went to different schools, taken either by
school vans or by their family cars, while children from my estate walked or took public vans, like I in the mornings.
Even though the difference was obvious, the children took no notice of it. We could cross over and have games.
Problems arose only if one went beyond the fence or the parents caught you playing together. You could be called
names and threatened. It was mind boggling that just a few meters away, homes looked like paradise. I got a friend
from the estate whose parents did not approve of our friendship. He was one year younger but was taller than I. In
the absence of his parents, we would go to his house. I remember one day as he saw me off at the gate his father
arrived in his car. He was raged to see me walking out his home and called his son back. I really wanted to see what
would happen that I hang around the fence. Hardly out of the car and he shouted at him, “Why do you bring dubious
looking children to my home, if they steal anything from here I will hand you over to the police” It was an insult that I
failed to withstand. I made to leave but my feet were too heavy. I went right back into his compound as he stood by
his car. I was going to let him know that I was not a coward. I walked over to him, as he looked me over from head to
feet. I was not afraid by any means. My heart had been touched and I had to defend myself out rightly. Sir I am not a
thief and besides you saw me leave what thing did I carry away to warrant calling me dubious looking and thief? I
think he could not believe his ears and asked me again. “Are you talking to me? “Yes, I said I am not a thief, and look
at my hands I am carrying nothing away. “Boy, who is your mother, you have very bad manners! I looked at him and
said, “I do not have a mother!” I wanted to provoke him farther that he could hit me for nothing. However, he said,
“Motherless bastard get out of this compound before I get angry” His wife whom his son had told me was a secretary
at a pyrethrum board office, was dropped at the gate by the company van and was looking at us. I believe she might
have heard her husband call me motherless bastard. He had started a battle and I was not going to allow him win it
so easily. I retorted, “Sir you are wrong I cannot be a motherless bastard please! His wife spoke as she came over,
“yes baba Erick this boy is right. He can be a bastard but no doubt, he has a mother somewhere. He looks intelligent
though” “Come here boy where do you come from, your house I mean? “Madam I live not very far from here, just
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along that dirt road on the left” I said as I pointed. I met an adult who for a brief encounter could admit reality and
accept that I was right. I had won, there was no more anger; the woman had put out the fire. I made to leave but she
said to her husband, “Honey invite him in” It was my first time to hear someone addressed as ‘honey’
The man whose face had now softened did not ask me in; he ordered me in. We came to the porch and he pointed at
a chair saying, “Sit there I will not be long. I feasted my eyes on the wall hangings and the furnishing of the porch
while he was away. The good mother came before him and started from where she had left. Even though she did not
have searching, eyes like Madam Miriam’s but she had a deep voice even though she sounded calm. In such
circumstances, one is subjected to cross-examination. I humbled myself and let her know as much as she wanted to
about mother, my father, school and me. Her husband had changed into shorts and asked her as he joined us, “What
does his father do? What had looked as a standoff had now turned into a warm conversation. I remained very alert
lest they were up to some bad, but they were not. It was also fishy that their son who had seen me out the
compound a few minutes back was nowhere in sight. We did not stay any longer at the porch for she rose to go and
the husband invited me now in to the living room. I had never entered this house before though we had played with
ball around it. I was mesmerized by what I saw when I entered the living room. Beautiful chandeliers hang from the
ceiling emitting soft light. What was in this house was far beyond what I had seen my life. Madam Miriam who I had
considered rich was no comparison to this family. What I had been called the first time came into my mind again,
’village boy’ I knew they had two children, one was away at a boarding high school and my friend who was at home.
The television was on and my eyes were already at it. There was an advertisement of a deodorant called ODORONO.I
could hear voices from the kitchen and I guessed that may be my friend and his mother were in the kitchen. I had
never thought they had a house help because I had not seen one on the days I came here. However, they had. As I
took in as much as I could of my environment, I did not want to provide proof of bad manners by looking from side to
side. I longed for the mother to come back. She had been friendly perhaps because she knew the perils of children
living away from their mothers. I excused myself to leave but the man did not allow me. “I thought you were here to
play with your friend, do you want me to take you to his room? “No, we had played and I am going home to wait for
my father, he does not have the keys” He drooped the magazine he had in his hands beside him on the sofa and
made as if to get up. “Mama Adrian can you call Adrian for his friend, he wants to leave” “I will be over in a moment,
just fixing a drink for him let him wait a minute” I did not know what kind of drink she was fixing for me but I waited.
She emerged from the kitchen with a tray. The content of the jug made me feel at ease. She had prepared fruit juice,
poured a long glass for me, and another for her husband. She went off to bring my friend along. I felt a surge of envy
as his mom came holding him. I imagined myself with my mother and felt cold. Perhaps this man had been right for
calling me motherless, because as mothers held their children, my mother was not with me. The emptiness that had
made my young mind heavy came over me as waters of a flood.
I wanted to clear my drink in a hurry and leave not because I did not want to stay but because their relation
reminded me of the forlornness that had disturbing me all along. Adrian’s mother asked me, “why do you have to go
to a school far away yet there are other schools around here? “I used to stay with my uncle near the school but my
father brought me to our house this term” “Which estate does your uncle stay? She asked. “Kisulisuli” I replied
quietly but loud enough for her to hear. The questioning continued, “And why did your father take you away?” I
suppose because I had not been taken to the hospital and I was ill” “Does your uncle have a wife? That was a hefty
question though. Why in the first place did she want to know about my uncle? I had to tell the truth; lies were to get
out of trouble and only with my father. I would always tell the truth even when I faced punishment as long as I was
allowed enough audience to defend my action. I did not know what to say in this case because my uncle had wives
not a wife. “He has two wives and a wife who went away” They broke into laughter and I was wondering why they
were laughing. In my home area, people had as many as eight wives and it was like normal to have them many. When
they stopped laughing she switched again to my school. “When you come home, you can tell your father to see me.
My sister is a head teacher in one of the schools near here” I left in happiness because I had managed to turn an
accusation into friendship. I would tell my father this weekend, I swore to myself.
My father was a difficult man and anyone telling him anything had to be very discreet. I sat over that issue for a
couple of days until I felt the situation was conducive. As we ate one evening before he left for his security work, I
said, “Dad one of my friends’ mother said you can see her, so that she can introduce you to her sister who is a head
teacher in one of the schools near here. She thought you might want to change school for me to place near to our
house” He stopped eating and looked at me. I could see his ego become ablaze. I had cooked my own goose. “Who to
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see her? Me Jared? You have started going to women here telling them about me. I knew that if I tried to talk he
might turn violent. I kept quiet, yet he needed an answer from me. “I am talking to you bloody oaf! Dad I am not oaf
please! The woman is a mother to one of my friends” I wanted to stop but I could not. I continued, “This is just being
unfair to me, I did not ask you to bring me forth, why, in goodness sake are you treating me as if I asked to be born.
Have I done something wrong for being what I am? Did I cause you to separate from my mom? Did you pick me from
the dustbins? Dad save yourself problems; close me inside and set this house on fire you will have sorted me out
once and for all. The truth bit him as hot knife cuts through butter. I saw him rise and I knew he was going to get a
cane to beat me. I did not make any move to run away. My inner self was whispering to me quietly. “Prepare for the
worst, do not cry, die and let die” I did not know I was thinking aloud but when he turned and looked back, I knew
something had made him turn. It was as if a certain fountain of anger had broken open. “Go on, kill me and have your
peace! It was not any showy display of temper but I meant every word of what I was asking him to do. He stopped in
his tracks and sat on the table. He looked away but I continued with my tirade. “I wish my mother was here to see my
blood flow from your hands” He talked without looking at me. “Take away the dishes”
He did not go to work that evening and I went to bed early while he remained at the table with his chin on his hands.
Even before I fell asleep, I was already enveloped with relief. It was his time to worry and I did not care much what
would happen to me at night. Why would it be that my short life was wrought with uncountable problems? The
proverbial bringing down of an elephant had occurred and it would continue. I let my mind wonder off to the past,
the good days when mom was there and there was no quarreling either. I had some wishful thinking that had my
grandmother remained alive perhaps my mom would still be with me. I woke somewhere in the night and he was still
at the table with the lamp almost going off because he had burnt all the kerosene. By morning, he was up before I
and had made breakfast for us. I had become so adept at preparing for school faster, and when I left for school, he
remained at the house. I was wondering if he would not go to work that day too. I took the vehicle to school. The day
would end so soon and we left for home. In the evening, I walked, and today I was not going to walk fast. I was
remorseful that I had made him go silent and I did not know what he was thinking of. The weight of what I had asked
him to do to me came back to me. Was I ready to die and would die willingly? I decided to myself that I would
apologize when I came home. I could remember how Rebecca and I had apologized to her mother when we made
loose her temper. Nevertheless, this was different, and more time had elapsed and what if I came home and he was
drunk? On the other hand, if he hanged himself? No, I had to be home fast. I started to run. My mind was occupied
with the thoughts of why he would become violent anytime something to do with school was mentioned. It had been
long since I had seen him take and look at my schoolbooks. He never helped me with any homework and was only
keen to know my position at the end of the term.
When I came home, the door was closed but not locked. That was in itself a signal that he was around. There was
some food simmering on the charcoal burner, and I felt hunger come. I removed my school uniform and sat down to
wait. I was restless and afraid of something. Did I think of apologizing? No, I would not do it. I had done nothing
wrong anyway. He on the other hand had not apologized to me on any given time even if he knew in deepest of deep
that several times he had beat me up for mistakes I did not do. No, I will not extend an olive branch to one who did
not know real meaning of it. He was the genesis of my problems, had never sat me down to explain and let me know
why and how they separated. On the other hand he was not bothered because all the money he drunk of would have
comfortably bought a cow for his in laws. This was willful by all standards and it did not warrant my apology
whatsoever. Then I did not know that what was happening to me was what had rubbed on me from him. He was
violent, brutal and never willing to listen. If he could not listen to me, then he could not listen to mom too. That day I
remembered what my mother had made me swore on her head. I would obey when it was worth obeying; nothing
less nothing more. By the time he came back, I was through with my soul and decisions.
The news he gave me did not please me. By the end of the term that was less than a month away, we would go
home. I wanted to protest but did not. He was running away from something he did not know and he was dragging
me along not caring how much I suffered the consequences. I narrowed it down to fear of my reaching out. I knew I
would go live with his old foster parents. There was nothing exciting about village life. I knew pressure would mount
on him to look for my mother and perhaps another woman. I realized why they had called me a man earlier and I
vowed to continue standing against anything that stood on my way for school here and later in the village. I knew in
the village there were many fruits, domestic and wild but that did not compare to town. In town there was more to
learn from school and from other children. New games came by the week and so many other things. I was going
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home to my village against my wish but I had no choice because I was a minor. I did my exams with a heavy heart but
they were the key to my future. I believed that even if we went home he would not take long at home; he would
leave for somewhere. The only consolation I had was what my mother had said that I would not remain a child
forever. I really longed for that time!
When schools closed, I did not even tell other children at school that I would not be with them next term. It pained
me to go away and leave my schoolmates and my position as a prefect. My father did not go to school to pick a
transfer letter for me. By then I had known that it was required for any child moving from one school to another. By
the time, it neared Christmas I had given up; and thought that he might have changed his mind about going home. I
joined in the games of the estate children. This estate was worse than the one in which, my uncle lived. The lower the
standard of living the more the children were and to top up that was their bad behavior. Criminals are made in the
lower estates and few from affluent families who became truants. They would commit heinous acts in the name of
their living standards. Children from affluent estate never ventured out on their own without parents. The slum
children would brave it to the extent of attacking them in day as they played. If you found a ball or any other toy in
the slums, chances are that it was taken by force or stolen from the affluent estate.
They arranged to go to town and get old tires for the bonfires on the eve of Christmas. These tyres were stolen from
garage back yards. In the evenings, they would burn one and as they sat around the fire, they would boast on how
they hoodwinked the security guards. Around the fire, arrangement for which windows to break and windscreens to
smash were made. That is when I heard that that years ‘gift’, as they called it included breaking my friends’ home
windows. I was within and without, I had to find and inform my friends’ family. Adrian was such a wonderful boy I
could not allow their windows to be broken by stone thrown from the road as they celebrated inside or were out at
friends home. As they left for tyre stealing on the eve of Christmas, I went to Adrian’s house. I made sure none of
them saw me or else I would stand dire repercussions. I found Adrian’s mother and informed her that the slum
children were arranging to break their windows. I was shocked to hear from her that on several occasions their
windows had been smashed by unknown stone thrower. They suspected the slum children but there was no proof
yet. She thanked me and let me leave as quiet as I came. It was betrayal but I had to do it. Why would someone
damage some other people’s property? Without any reasonable cause simply because they lived in better houses.
Some of them had no fathers and did not even know who the fathers were. The clothes they wore were sometimes
given to their mothers if they worked there, or were sold for alcohol by gardeners who worked there. These children
eat anything from anywhere and hardly get sick. I knew my father would not allow me out on that night but he was
not at home. Therefore, after the games and singing around the fire the journey started out, I sneaked without notice
by any of them and entered our house. They did not know what lay ahead of them. The police had been informed
and two police vans lay somewhere with police officers. Before they could break even a window, the police officers
rushed at them getting few of them. The ones arrested led the officers to their house and search made. Some of
them, whose mothers sold illicit brew, got their mothers into trouble. This single act led to police operation that
netted even some wanted criminals.
Adrian’s parents thanked me and even some of their neighbors. I was even afraid to let my father see the presents
they gave me. However, there was one aspect that needed attention and talking with my father. I had been
introduced to Adrian’s aunt who was a head teacher and she had accepted to take me into her school promising that
she would even buy me textbooks. I guessed my father would not listen to it but trial I had to make. When I told him
that I had found a new school that was nearer, I thought he would feel relieved from giving transport each morning
and I did mention it. He simply said it is O.K. I did not know what he was planning and as I busied myself with my
books and prepared myself for the new school, he kept silent as if all was well. On the night of New Year’s Day, he did
not go to drink but started to pack. I was angered but he said nothing. I stayed awake as he packed and when he
came to my things he was surprised to find clothes shoes and some toys that I had been given. I saw the mischief in
his eyes but I kept my cool when he asked me. “Where did you steal these things from? I am taking you to the police”
I had to make use of a weapon that at one time had worked better. “Dad you know that I cannot steal all those things
even if I was so good at stealing, but this time if you burn my things the way you did at home, I have two things I can
do” He looked at me coyly and asked, “What can you do? I knew how he would feel shaken if I threatened his life and
I said with firmness, “That fire you use to burn my clothes can burn both you and I when you are drunk or it can burn
you alone”. He laughed loudly as if I had amused him, and when he stopped laughing he asked again, “and what
other thing can you do? “Yes, I can do any other thing that I cannot tell you and then I will tell the police that you
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asked me to do it” That trick worked. I could not tell whether he was frightened or angered. His mood remained the
same but he said as if he was speaking to himself, “Yes I cannot leave this boy here, he might become something
impossible, young man go to sleep, I am packing, before a cock crows we shall be gone to the land of our ancestors”
I was leaving Nakuru the way I had come, a father decides and a father does. We caught the early morning vehicles
from town. However, it was exciting to travel but it was not welcome to me for I had geared myself for other
prospects better than what he was taking me to. At Kisumu when he looked relaxed, I asked him, “Will you come
back for the things in the house? He answered without looking at me and partly because he did not want those sitting
next to us to hear what he said. “Nothing is more important than my hands and I have them, moreover I had not paid
the rent, the landlord can have them in lieu” “But dad that is unfair” Is it unfair to you? Grow up and buy yours, and
shut up your beak before I do it for you” I felt offended, how he dares call my mouth a ‘beak’. For the rest of the
journey we did not talk, and even when he bought bananas, I did not eat. I promised myself so many things some of
which I never did. I used my time to think of my own things. My mind would wonder off to idea of running away from
home, hut I knew no family would keep me without getting in touch with him. I had been taught at school that it is a
crime to keep someone’s child without his express consent. What baffled me was that always I had no choice and the
movements affected me seriously. At whim and whisk, I was being moved from place to place. I had resigned myself
to fate or destiny. I knew that one time I would have to rebel against my father, yet he could not see it come, because
he was insensitive to many things. It was clear as day and night. Whenever he beat me, I would persevere without
crying and that was a clear indication of something. Beatings, even if they leave marks are easily forgotten, but
abuses stay long. To date I can remember some abuses he directed at me but not how painful the lashes were. I also
had my ways of getting back at him sometimes.
My grandparents were glad to see me once again. The first two days flew past. It was mango season and I would take
my time on the mango trees. Sometimes I would find myself crying and yet I did not know why I did. My grandfather’s
chair was at the side of the granary. There he would sit whole day save for few times he would get up to visit the
bushes for calls of nature. There was no latrine. My grandma Kristina once sent me into the granary to get her
sorghum. That day I would come to know why my father was uneasy with the things I told him. He came and sat by
his foster father while I was still in the granary. My grandfather because he was aged did not remember that a little
while ago he had talked to me while I entered but I had not got out yet. After the usual greetings, he asked my
father, “When are you taking this boy back to school or rather when are you two leaving? My father went into blame
game instead. He told the old man that he would not take me to town again because I had a knack of taking to
women with whom I maligned his name. “This grandchild of yours has told women all sorts of lies about me and our
home” I felt an urge of coming out to defend myself but I kept still instead. “What are these things he tells women
about you and us and where does he find all these women to talk to? He did not wait for my father to answer but
kept on talking. “If he has told them that you have become a drunkard and that you let him sleep all by himself in the
house is he a liar? Suppose he said that you are poor is that also a lie? In addition, if he said that his father is an
orphan who did not go to school is he lying? Do not kid me, children are very good witnesses to truth, and I know if
he ever told any woman about you things he said can be supported even by me. For a woman to bring your child
closer to her there must be two problems, either she has food and your child is hungry or she notices the child doing
works that are not supposed to be done by children. Mothers are that way; they have hearts for suffering children.
Between these two issues which is you crime? When Francis came to see me, he said that not even once had you
paid the municipal levy for education for your son since he went to Nakuru and that he has been doing it and the
school uniforms and shoes are all from him, is that also a lie? He had been put to defense; I wanted to hear him say
to the contrary. “Father you know my pay is very little and Francis had come to agreement that he would do that
meanwhile I look for a well-paying job” The old man laughed so loudly that I nearly laughed too. “Oh! My brother’s
son that is farfetched, do not cheat me I have seen many moons than you. What you did with your money everybody
knows, we have been told, you may think that Nakuru is far but it does not take a bird full day to bring all the
information. I want to watch you keenly what you do with this child. I thought you would be envious that all your
cousins have skills, teachers, railway workers etc. and if you did not get education because your father died early and
your mother went away why do you not provide what you missed to your own child? You are jealous of your own
child, your own blood! He stopped and started singing a war song.
I do not know when exactly my father left his side for I did not hear him leave. However, when I preened and looked
out the old man was alone. I got out and walked silently away. I knew that he was only pretending not see or be
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aware of my being around but I had come to know that he was clever. I waited for dad to ask me about those things
but he did not. That evening, while we ate together, I backstabbed him. “Father you know you never went to my
school to take a transfer letter how are they going to allow me into school? My grandfather talked before he could
reply, “See, when I said these things you were swollen like a boil waiting to be busted now answer him we are
waiting” My father stopped eating and walked off. When he was gone, my grandpa asked me, “Is that how he treats
you?” “That is mild ten times, he did not utter obscenities and did not kick and punch” “Do not mind about him I will
take care of you. I did not know how he was going to do that whilst he depended on others to help him out with even
the most of basic requirements of life. Come Monday morning, I was up waiting for him to come take me to school.
As we walked to school, he asked me what I had told his father about him. I denied ever telling them anything about
him. He instructed me not to let his parents know where I got the clothes I had from. It was too late I had told
grandma everything and I knew Gregory had the information. Would I keep quiet and let him think that they did not
know? “But father I had told grandma why did you not warn me before we came home?
I felt pity for him as he led the way to school. His uncle who was a head teacher when I left for Nakuru had been
moved to another school after he had been found to embezzle school funds. Today he was going to face a different
man whom he did not know. It did not go well and easy as he had thought. The head teacher refused that without a
transfer letter he could not take me in and being a man who gives up early he again led me back home. He kept on
picking and dropping leaves from the growths by the pathway. When my grandma saw us coming back she vanished
into the small hut. I went into the main house and hung up my bag. I changed into other clothes and went to my
grandma. I could hear his grandfather tell him as I passed that he had two options only. I knew the options myself
and I did not want to involve myself in their discussion. I was already devising what I would do as on the way back he
had boasted that even those who never went to school ate. He said that he only went up to class four and he could
do many things. He said he could repair a car and that even if I was denied the chance of entry into school that would
afford me a lot of time to start in life early. He did not know how that statement hurt me, he could not reason how
the world had changed and how I felt, was not how he felt.
After lunch when he went out my grandfather sent me to go to his cousin’s home and take word to my uncle who
was a teacher to come over and see him. I did not find him, but his wife welcomed me warmly. Her name is Ludia, a
lovely mother who was easy to talk with. She asked me many things about life in town and my previous school. She
sent me back home with the confirmation that she would make sure my uncle got the information. I did hint to her
that perhaps, grandpa needed him about my schooling because I had been denied admission without a transfer
letter. She was sympathetic and said would take it upon herself to see that my uncle found school for me. I went back
home in spirits.
In the evening when my uncle came, my father was not at home. At some point in the afternoon he had come home
reeking of alcohol from every pore. My grandma got at him squarely for being a disappointment to them. He seemed
not to care what the old woman said. What sent him off once more was when he was asked if he was planning to
build a hut for himself instead of using one of his cousins’ who was then a welder in Kisumu. He left in haste perhaps
to the drinking joints. My grandma shook her head in amazement. John my Uncle, did not want to take long. I was
keen and never left his side when grandpa told him my predicament. In essence, he just laughed and said that it is not
only a requirement of that school but of the ministry of education. However, he asked me to bring one of my books
from which he tore a page and wrote a short note for me. “Son take this letter to the head teacher tomorrow
morning, he will admit you” He stood to go but put his hands into his pocket and retrieved a twenty-shilling note and
gave it to grandpa. He left all of us in happiness, I because of the letter and the old folks because of the money. How I
prayed for the day to end! I was up very early morning and washed my face, took a bite of mouthfuls of potatoes and
cold porridge and left for school. I had a lot of time to spend with my former friends and relatives who went to the
same school. I did not go to the assembly but waited for the teacher at his mud office. He recognized me as he came
along and was even surprised that I was back only after he sent me away the previous day. “Did your father go to
Nakuru to get a letter? “No, sir I just have a letter for you from Mr. Oluoch” He took the letter and read it even before
he entered his office. He looked at me after reading the letter and called one of the boys who were running from the
toilets. “Do you have your books and pens? I found myself replying, “Yes sir” repeatedly. He turned towards the boy
whom he had called and said, ”take this chap to class five and tell the class teacher to enroll him in the class register”
He looked at me once more and said, ”I give you one month only and I want to see you with our school uniform” He
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walked off as we made for class. I had been away one year and I was sure I would remember most of the children.
The lessons were conducted in vernacular save for a few words. Teaching standards were far lower than town.
Most of the teachers knew me and I was restored to my position as the school library assistant. The position gave me
an advantage others did not have, access to books. There was no school debate, however when I was in class six I did
suggest to our language teacher that in order to improve the language, it was better we had weekly debates. The
idea sold well with other teachers and by the end of that week, it was announced at the assembly that we would be
having weekly debates. A school debate club was started and therefore the school had two active clubs, the scouts
club and the debate club. I had become again the darling of my teachers and this time the tables were turned, the
teachers who were friendlier to me were male. I would be visiting with them during weekends and school holidays.
The access I had to books afforded me vast reading material. My class work was far better than other students were. I
had gained grounds and favor even of the teachers considered very harsh.
My father had then convinced his foster father and had sold part of the land for him. The money he used as capital to
start up butchery. His business took more of him and he had very little time left for any other thing. Sometimes
during the holiday, I would cut wood and make charcoal that I sold out. Whenever any money was needed in school, I
would tell my grandmother who would tell him. However, most of the levies I paid for by myself. Sometimes during
the weekends, I would go to fetch meat from the butchery for our use at home. Meat was never missing in our meals.
There was abundant of it. In fact my father prided that he knew the sweetest parts of a cow.
My grandfather enjoyed eating raw meat with hot chilies. One of the weirdest things of our culture is in the foods we
eat. Apart from some insects that we eat, other foods are unique to our community even to date. When any
domestic animal was slaughtered, the contents of the small intestines that would be liquid are squeezed into a
container. Then bile is added to it to make it bitter. The mixture is then boiled, sieved and eaten with raw meat for
those who liked the carnivore way or roast meat for those who loathed eating raw meat. I still wonder what we got
from that meal. Even though cattle eat many plants that humans cannot eat straight away, the digested liquids that
were squeezed from the intestines are a specialty. In this liquid, several small hot chilies are added. It was hot and
bitter but we really liked it. It was a precursor to the main meal. I see that even today whenever any animal is
slaughtered at home, and especially during funerals. It is like a ritual and without it the elderly do not consider that
an animal had been slaughtered. My grandfather told me that they ate it without boiling and even added blood to it.
He used to say that the craze of boiling nearly everything was the thing of the today’s people. That part of culture has
survived to the current generation, and they normally add that very liquid to meat that is fried. It has a peculiar scent
and taste that people really like. In our language, they call it ‘OJURI’. Even though it is age long, it has survived with
very little changes done to it. Those days, a couple of decades ago, women were not allowed to eat it. My culture has
most of the discriminating practices against women. Some people do not even know these things until they come to
the village. It was not only discrimination to women but also to children when it came to foods. Women were not
allowed to eat chicken and it was considered an abomination. As I grew up in the village, I found myself adapting
slowly much of these practices. Women were lesser people in the society not unless they had lived long enough to
remember things done or decisions made long ago. This respect notwithstanding, they were not allowed to eat
especially sirloin, the tongue of any animal, chicken and all wild animals’ meat. Yet the people who had made
indelible marks on my life were women. I longed to grow up, acquire independence and fight for their oppressed
fraternity.
Whenever I had to sit with my grandfathers both paternal and maternal, I would bring out an argument. My maternal
grandfather was a wrestler in his youth and young manhood. He would name people far away from home whom he
had wrestled and beat. What people saw in him as pride turned out to me to be something else. He had many suits
and would wear them clean every day. I was also enchanted by the lessons he gave me on how to handle a necktie
both on my hand and around my neck. He had many walking sticks, as many as his suits and pipes. Some pipes he did
not even put tobacco into but the way he held them at the side of his mouth was sweet in its own way. I started by
asking him very simple questions to test how far he was willing to go with me. Slowly and slowly, I would question
why women were not allowed to do some things or eat some things. He was always very honest with me and it was
he who helped me understand what were called taboos. I remember one day I asked him why women were not
allowed to eat chicken. He looked at me intently and said, “My grandchild you want know the way of your people? I
am an intelligent man, and I abhor many of these traditional taboos, or what you might wish to call them. There are
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no specific reasons to them. They are only checks and balances to scale respect for the man more than the woman. I
like the white man’s way of doing things, and I think I am one in my heart” “But granny your own wives do not eat
chicken and some parts of an animal, why do they ? His answer shocked me. “Even if they ate, they will not die.
Those practices are obsolete my child and I hope when you grow up you will turn your ears away from them. Most of
them are there because traditions are to be obeyed not questioned. What matters most grandson is respect for the
entire community’s elderly. From my youth grandson, I have flouted most of these traditions and no harm came my
way. You can choose to obey or not. In this village, I was the first man to keep fire in my wings as the white man”
What he meant by keeping fire under the wings was that he kept a matchbox or lighter in his breast pocket and
would lift his arm as a wing while retrieving it. The fact that traditions were obsolete made sense, and I would
counter check with the old man at home before I concluded. I can remember one day we were talking about snakes
and I asked him what some other children had said in school that, suppose one is bitten by a spider, then your
mother in-law should urinate into your mouth. “You know, we have so many snakes and we have anti-snake venom
but because there is no known cure for spider bite, a measure had to be put in place to make people extra careful.
Urine cannot cure anybody, I know it that way. My grandson the world is made of nothing but change, do not go
against the grains; change is due and inevitable.
It was unheard of; an old man instructing his grandchild to accept and embrace change. Several times, he would tell
me about my grandfather whom I had not met and many others who were considered men of goodwill in our
community. He liked singing and dancing; no wonder he had many wives. My sojourn to his home became many, dad
would quarrel but I would not listen. The money I got from charcoal sale, I started doing sugar cane business with. On
weekends, I and several other children would go to the sugar cane plantations and buy sugar cane that we resold at
the market. From sugar cane, I graduated to paraffin. It was a very good business because kerosene does not go bad,
can be kept out in the bushes without fear of anything doing any harm to it, and paid good profit .I had many
customers. I was supporting myself and was able to pay my own school fee that was twenty shillings per term. My
father remained an emblem of authority. He was engrossed in his business and other things. On several occasions
when parents were needed at school, my grandmother came. My father liked schools sports and would go to any
venue where sports were. Despite all these problems, my schoolwork got better. I was not bothered any more by his
misdemeanor. He had since built a hut, but spent very little time in it. He would come home late and leave very early.
My grandma cooked his food and it was left for him in his hut. I would know whether he came home or not in the
morning when I went to pick the dishes. If the food was uneaten then likely he had not come home or came very late
into the night, or else could have come home drunk.
My performance, relation with the teachers and being on my own boosted my exuberance. I got into fights no more
and became a peacemaker between children who wanted to fight. My father got married, and just as my mother had
said, I had someone to call mother. The day my stepmother was being introduced to my grandfather dad surprised
me when he told her that she had no mandate to beat me. Any matter she deemed to require discipline, had to
reported to dad. Even in my youthful brain, I knew that was more advantageous. My life oscillated between three
places, school, home and my maternal grandfather’s home. I knew I had to keep myself from trouble with the
stepmom or else reports reaching my father would be fatal to me. I began falling sick frequently but I would not be
taken to the hospital. My old folks liked herbal medicine and the concoctions they brewed for me whenever I became
sick were not easy to take. Some of them were bitter, others sour and even tasteless. My grandmother would go for
various herbs, boil them in a pot and sometimes I would be given some to drink and to bathe. There was no specific
quantity one had to take; it depended on the size of the mug. I hated the herbs though it helped me feel better. I had
missed what was very crucial at the right time; love of parents. Once, I became ill and my mother came to see me. I
had been sick for so many days and everyone at home thought I would die in a matter of hours. Everyone was saying
that I had been bewitched or looked at by an evil eye. My condition threw my parents into disarray, with mom saying
that my father was responsible for my illness and my father heaped the same blame back. They ended taking me to
an exorcist and later to hospital. My custody became an issue, my mom wanting to take me away but dad insisting
that she come back and take care of me if she was not satisfied by the way I was being taken care of by dad and his
second wife. When a decision was finally reached, my mother came back. My mother grew up in a polygamous home
so she was not uncomfortable with the situation. She was a subjective but firm woman. She was also very strong and
this is when I saw exactly what my foster grandfather had said that she was a tractor was true. Her presence changed
things immensely. No more beatings from my father but I continued my kerosene business.
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Even though I was happy that she was back, my trust had not been fully restored. Whenever I was alone, my mind
would wonder off to the rough times I had undergone. Could I trust her or not, what had convinced her father to let
her come back, though he had refused adamantly that she would never come back, without my father giving the cow
he wanted? She was not a physician therefore if death I would have just died with or without her. I discovered that I
had bottled in me anger because of the abandonment. It was a scenario that my mind had to adjust to, reconcile with
and accept. Even though I felt complete again but the inner self had no trust for any arrangement. Where was she
when I moved hither tither? Where was she when I was abused and violently battered? I was then old enough to
know that culture had sacrificed me, and that everything hinged on dowry had a far-reaching impact. I knew that
sooner I would become the grass on the battlefield and that if they started their fights I would be trampled. At the
end of the year, schools in my location had joint examination for class six. I had never been celebrated, as I was when
I came top in an exam that involved thirteen schools. Shortly I fell ill again and then my people had reason enough to
conclude that someone was using black magic to bewitch me. My grandfather who until now had remained silent
started to mount pressure that I be moved from home. My teachers listed their displeasure at that prospect but no
one would listen to them. My math teacher who was my dearest friend told me to reason out with my parents about
it. I took his opinion very seriously. It was not someone’s future that faced ruin but mine. I decided to reach out to my
father and mother without letting them know that my teachers were behind me. Finally, my parents allowed it. I
would stay in this school until I did my primary exams. Despite my concerted effort to remain, I seemed to fear
witchcraft and witches. It was what everyone said; even some of the teachers and it damped my heart to know that
there was an enemy out there called ‘witch’. It bothered me that I had no knowledge on the rationale on the belief of
witchcraft. Why would someone become so evil that he constituted himself to fight the good in a community? How
and why? Slowly fear crept in and I found myself avoiding some paths, homes and people. What had in the near past
been meaningless to me made me quake now. I decided to consult my grandfather without letting my parents know
that I did. He was nicknamed ‘well-dressed’ by the villagers. He liked that name a lot, and when I asked mom that I
wanted to go and see her father she became apprehensive. She asked several times what I wanted to see her father
for, but I did not tell her. Eventually she let me go on a weekend. My grandmothers were elated to see me and to
show me that they were happy; a special meal was made for grandpa and me. They left us alone to enjoy our food
and I thought of doing what brought me there. “Grandpa, do you believe in witches and witchcraft? Why are you
asking about that? He asked me before he could answer. “Because in my village and school people talk a lot about
wizards and witches, yet they are not saying who these people are and the proof about their bad deeds. He cleared
his throat and looked away thoughtfully. I became afraid that perhaps he would tell me that either my close relative
was one or that one of my friends’ parents.
“Grandson I want you to get this very clear. Yes, there are witches, wizards, and countless magicians. There are good
ones and bad ones, depending on an individual who has dealings with them. Those who practice magic, their trade
interlock somewhere and even those who are respected in a society have ended up not wanted by even the closest
of their relatives. Since my childhood, I have seen many, saw their good and bad works. However, I would like to let
you know that alongside them, there are many people who masquerade as good magicians but they know nothing
about magic and what make them work. Magicians are proud of their trade and as they move from place to placegiving relief to people with problems, they have been banded names of wizards. True wizards are underground
operators together with their counterparts; witches. As you grow up, you will come to know what makes people fear
them. Some things that magicians do are, protect homes so that thieves do not steal from it, protect livestock from
night attacks by wild animals, and even protect people. They also have medicines that cure countless diseases but
whenever something sinister happens in a village, these very people are held responsible. You will never come to
know who wizards and witches are whatsoever, they do everything under cover and others who might be innocent
get the blame. Let me illustrate to you, do you know a spear? One man can use it to kill a wild animal for food, and
what do you think people would say, if same spear is used to kill a man? He stopped abruptly and looked at me. I did
not know that I had stopped eating and that as he talked I digested his words one after another. “My children never
had any talisman around their necks or waists but they survived including your mother,” he said to me. This must
have been the opportunity I was waiting for because I interjected amidst his sentence, grandpa that means you know
some magic too. “No, no, I do not practice those things and so they have no hold on me. I want you to get it clear
from me because you are mine and I cannot harm you. Magic works only in an environment where there is magic, so
do not ever use magic if you want to stay safe. Because you asked, may you know that I objected your father not
because he was an orphan and poor but because in your clan I can count more than my fingers people who are said
to involve in magic and voodooism. In bid to protect his family, your father may cause irreparable harm. That remains
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my stand to death. Let your father not take you to a magician at any time; my daughter your mother cannot because
she knows I do not recommend.
What I learnt in that day was enough even for a lifetime. I now knew why mother continued to stay away while I grew
up in other women’s hands. I could even guess that even then my grandpa was not pleased by mother’s presence in
our home. He had also confirmed without doubt that wizards and witches existed. As I walked home that day, I
remained in reverie of what would become of me. I would remain as stoic as possible so that I do not cause my
mother and her family much anguish. What I had been told was sensible and I did not want to pollute my mind by
listening to any other person. I remembered too the day my father had burnt my clothes that his father, Grandpa
Gregory had also said something like it. I took stock of the homes I had been told not to go to, and we were related.
What a paradox! Who in his good sense would want to cause harm to a relative? I knew that to succumb to the
influence of these omens then one has to be in possession of the regalia for magic which until now I had none. I knew
that I had to talk to mom about my feelings one day and let her know what I knew. She did not abandon me at will
but due to obedience to her father. I wondered whose book I would use to chart life’s course. There was no doubt
that someday she would run away. Perhaps her father had warned her before she married my father, but maybe she
did not listen. She had until when her mother died that she realized. On the other hand, grandpa had said that no
wizard or witch operated in the open. I did not know how many of those happy faces I met hid the venom of wizardry
and dislike.
My stepsister by stepmother arrived that month. It was painful that her mother would not allow me to carry her to
our house; there was a definite rift in this family already. What remained of paramount importance to me was my
schooling. My final primary exams came while I was ill but I did it and passed. When my admission letter for
secondary school came dad had no money. I did not know that for a longer period now, a business that he had been
doing had run bankrupt and that someone else bought him out and maintained him as a butcher. I cried but to no
avail because there was no money. Dad told me to take it easy, because it was not necessary that one go to school to
succeed in life. He was not trying further and it hurt me very much. I had set myself for secondary school but I had
failed despite passing. I looked at others go to school while I remained at home. My mother saw my worries and
concern. She made illicit brew and sold twice, what she got from the illicit brew was enough to put me in a day school
for a single term. The area Assistant Chief also had wind of her business and before long; police officers descended on
our home looking for my mother. Thank god, they did not get any of it and mom was not arrested. She arranged for
me to move and stay somewhere near the day school and paid for the term. She went away to another town and my
father did not bother to check on her whereabouts. We kept being in touch for she sent letters. She was doing some
little business and it managed to keep me in school for two terms. However, by the middle of third term I was sent
home for fees. I thought my dad had changed his mind and would give me money to enable me go back to school but
he laughed at me instead. It was harrowing for my father to laugh at me the way he did. I packed my things and left
home without telling anyone where I was going. I headed for Kisumu. I do not know what I was going to do, whether I
was going to look for employment or just to visit. I knew It would be hard but after two days in Kisumu, One of the
days in a police station, I managed to locate my uncle. He worked as a cook for an Asian family. He lived in their
servant’s quarters with other relatives and his wife.
My uncle was delighted to have me at his house. Even though he was employed, as cook in that house but he did
virtually every housework. Every morning he rose and washed the car before he went in start sweeping, dump dust
and mop the house. After moping, he took out the utensils used for breakfast and washed them at the standpipe out
the house. He would follow by washing clothes and come to his house for breakfast and return to start making their
many dishes. When he finished the cooking, he laid the table and removed the utensils when the family finished their
lunch, for washing and then he would have a few minutes during which he had his lunch too. In the afternoon, he
would iron the clothes and take them inside. Then he would come back to the house and rest before he resumed
cooking the evening meals. That was his daily routine from Monday to Sunday; he had no day off except on the
weekends when the family ate out he had a free evening. To me the work looked too much for a single person but he
enjoyed his work and was always smiling. Those who lived with him were extended family and were looking for jobs.
What surprised me a lot is that they rarely left the house but spent the whole day or days playing draughts with
bottle tops. One of them even had his wife with him but they did not seem to worry that they were not employed.
Total number including me of people who were depending on him was fourteen. Even though I enjoyed the game
with them sometimes and even managed to beat one of them who stood unbeaten, I felt uneasy at the extent of
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their laziness. One Saturday when the family was eating out my uncle took me out to the lake. He was going to fish
and on our way to the lake; we went through a bog where we got worms to use as bait. He had only one fishing line
and I was just accompanying him to watch. We came to the lake and I felt afraid because of the waves. While I kept
my eyes at the lake, he had already removed his trousers and asked me to do the same and follow him. “No uncle just
leave your trouser with me here I will take care till you return” I said. “I cannot leave you here if you are afraid I
would rather let you go back to the house because I do not know what I will tell my sister should anything happen to
you here while I am fishing” I obliged and went off my shirt, trouser and shoes. He tied them in one bundle and
hanged it on his neck. With his left hand, he held the fishing gear and bait and with the right, he held my arm. At
some point, the water level came to my neck and the rough waves hit my face. I had until now gathered courage but I
clung to him. Eventually we reached the rocks and he climbed first and helped me up. We sat on the rock and he
baited the hook and threw the line far away into the lake. It was a kind of sport that needed patience. The sun was
already setting but he had not made a catch and I thought we would leave as we came. By dusk, he caught one tilapia
and what a tag it was with fish! He would pull and the fish would run back into the deep bending the rod but my
uncle held with his two hands firmly, he finally drew it out and big it was enough to feed the whole household. Our
continued stay yielded some two more small fish, and uncle folded the line along the rod and we started out. This
time the waves had subsided and I realized that the places that looked deep when we came in were barely at my
chest. We put on our clothes and set for home. Uncle gave me the fish to take to my aunt, his wife, while he went
inside the boss house. That night we had fish stew one of my best dishes. While the lot in the house celebrated the
catch, I took resentment to the men. If all of them went out to fish perhaps, they would have more that they could
even sell.
I arose before my uncle and decided to relieve him of one of the tasks. By the time he was up, I was almost through
washing the car. He went inside thanking me for that and I kept my eyes while the others played on when he would
bring out the utensils used at the breakfast. When he came out, I went to him and asked him to let me do them while
he did other work. As the days wore, he found that he could relegate some of his duties done outside the house to
me and I would do them just perfect. I also frequented the room where he did the ironing and I started asking him
why the other relatives never helped him. “Do not pay attention to that lot, as they keep sitting they will learn
nothing nor earn anything, But mark you, I cannot send them away for they are my relatives and your relatives. They
are the ones who will mourn at my grave back in the village. No one can bury himself. My nephew learn to love
others even when you do it at your cost. There is nothing more gratifying than giving, mark that. One person who
does not matter in this rainy season may be very helpful in the next dry spell, therefore relax and let them enjoy their
games and stay here. They are eating from my hands they are not eating my hands. When time comes, they will go
their way not having any ill feeling with me and my wife. When these Indians allow me, I shall be taking you inside
and teach you how to cook their dishes who knows, you may end up working with me while they are looking
longingly. Maintain a happy face in all situations. You never know perhaps I may even ask for a loan from them to put
you back to school” It was like opening a wound and strewing salt over it. The mention of school made my heart
heavy always. Several times, I would look at school going chaps admiringly and go into a trance. I saw a tin at the
corner and asked him what it was. He told me it was a polish for the vehicle, he used to wash and polish the vehicle
but these days work has become too much that, he dare waste no time polishing after washing. I made up my mind
that I would do it for him the next day but I did not tell him. I slept with that in my mind and the next morning I was
up even earlier. They had left one car door unlocked and through that door I removed all the mats and washed, them
clean, before I could put them back into the car. After washing the car, I got down to polishing, when I was nearly
through, wind closed the door and they heard it from inside while having their breakfast. The man of the house came
out to check what it was with their car. When he found me busy, I mumbled a greeting that I do not think he heard
for he did not reply. Was he angry with me? Will that cost my uncle his job? He called out loudly to his wife and in my
heart; I wanted the earth to swallow me. I had severally heard her shrill voice and it seemed that she was always
unhappy. What I feared, I least expected and when she came out the husband motioned with his hand for her to
come. I opened the doors again and started putting back the mats. The wife came and they kept on talking in Hindi
and I kept on imagining that he was telling her I was trying to steal from the car.
It was the wife who called my uncle and I thought they were going to tell him to pack me off. “Who is this young boy
to you? The wife asked my uncle. “Mama, he is my sister’s son” my uncle answered back. She looked at me and
asked, “Why are you not in school? I had a ready answer for that question. ”I do not have the fees that they require
at school” I did not know how to end my sentence but I settled for the word madam. “Thank you for washing our car,
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and when you are through bring your school reports inside” I had my school reports in my box and after doing the
utensils as fast as I could I went for them. When she saw them, she was surprised and went straight to the phone.
She talked in Hindi so I could not comprehend what she was saying but some three words were in English, “position
one, two” I knew she was giving my performance record to the person on the other end. That became the genesis of
my close contact with this family. I took my reports and went back to the house knowing that I had scored by being
industrious. Had I not washed the car perhaps he would not have noticed me. She took a lot of my time that day
asking about this or that about my family and that evening her children brought a ball and we played together. They
even invited me in to watch television with them.
That night in our house, uncle’s house I mean, there was a celebration for me. They all knew that come next morning
I would be taken to school. When alone with my uncle he told me to be strong-willed and less irritable. This Asian
family was comprised of a grandfather, the son, his wife, their daughter and two sons. My uncle had seen my
disposition that I was easily offended and he was helping me to strip it off. He did not want me to get into problem
with the children of the house; he knew them from infancy because he had worked for that family for a long time. In
fact, it was through this family that he learnt how to cook Punjabi foods. He esteemed them and they valued him. He
was proud of me and happy that I would be going to school eventually by virtue of his employment. I wanted to write
to my mother and inform her about the precedents. I wanted to put everything behind me; old life and the suffering
were behind now. This was a guaranteed stay in school and I wanted to make the best out of it.
I was up early and ready before everyone and washed the car just as well as I had done the other day. I bathed and
made ready waiting for the time to arrive. I was first taken to school and my sponsor talked to the headmaster while I
waited outside the office. From there we went to town to purchase uniform, school bag, school shoes, socks and
pens. We went to his shop after the purchase of my things. He owned a shop where they made spectacles. He
worked together with an ophthalmologist. The ophthalmologist was a kind old man who took to me immediately. I
was somehow pleased when he addressed me as “my son”. I stayed in the shop until lunch hour then we drove back
home. I knew the name of my new school and I sat down and wrote my name on all the exercise books that had been
bought for me. I did not know whether I would proceed to second year of secondary education or be made to repeat
the first year because I did not complete the last term. Even my uncle asked me about it but I told him to wait and
see what would happen the next day. I did not know that my uncle had made it known to his employer that the
people staying with him were his brothers. So that evening the mother of the house called me in while my uncle
ironed the clothes and grilled me about them. There are some instances one ought to be prudent with their lips and
that was a lesson I had learnt that the rewards of truthful lip is bounty. The truth was that they were distant cousins
and my language does not have a word for cousin so they pass as brothers. She was a prudent woman and knew how
to go about her business with diligence. She did not visit that matter with my uncle immediately. She made it wait
until the family got the water bill from the municipal council. That day when I came from school and went into her
house to help my uncle with some chores she came to the kitchen with the bill. She started very lightly by asking,
”James look, we have the water bill and it is high, why do you think the municipal has charged this much? My uncle
did not know that it was just a ploy and answered, “Perhaps it is erroneous or the clerks at the council want to get
more from you” “No James we used this water, there are so many people in this compound and I want all of them
gone by the end of this week, except the ones under my employment and this school boy. Your wife can also remain
because she has a right to remain. If that does not happen then I will pay the water bill from your salary and not only
water but electricity bill too.
My uncle did not have anything to say neither could he bring himself to tell his cousins to go away. He wanted to use
me but I refused. They were his guests and I had no right to tell them to go away. However, their stay was overdue.
That night when we sat for supper, he girded his loins and told them that his boss was complaining about the use of
water and the presence of many people in her compound, “if you think I am lying ask my nephew he heard it all”
They did not need to ask me, I volunteered the part of information that my uncle did not use, “She said that she will
recover water and electricity bills from Uncle’s salary if you are still here by the end of this week. They were all willing
to move out the next day with the married man saying that he would go back home with his wife the first thing in the
morning then he would find his direction from there. Moving out they did and it remained only the three of us in the
house the next day. It was a relief for my uncle’s wife for she was happier. Some few days when they had gone and
we were sitting in the kitchen while my uncle pounded cumin seeds, she came up with that issue again but this time
with amusement. She asked my uncle, “James how much money do you use these days? You know your nephew
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saved you by letting me know that the whole lot was your distant cousins and I had to find a way to hound them out
the compound” I thought my uncle would be angry at me but he simply said, “You know, our culture does not allow
us to send guests away, sometimes you may be sending away angels, but thank god they are gone and my tea can be
thicker. We all laughed about it and she said to my uncle, “for that matter James I will waive for you all the debts you
have accumulated during the stay of these people, so the angels do not become angry” I did not know that my uncle
was living beyond his means without any proper justification, for the sake of being kind to others.
At the school, I had been promoted automatically based on my previous performance. I liked my new school and
each morning I was dropped by car. I had gone from grass to grace. I wrote to my mom with the new school address
and told her of what had happened. Back at home, news had spread that perhaps I had gone to Nakuru to pursue one
of the families that had been kind to me. After two months in school, my ego was tested. One of the boys in our class
took my pen. I beseeched him for a long time to return it to me but he just kept making fun at me that I was making
myself son to Indians. They were just jealous of me for no apparent reason. He worked my former violent spirit to the
limits. I could not talk, I kept quiet while my mouth trembled and he made a mistake of his life by telling me that I
was trembling as chicken. I had to defend my esteem at all costs, I was not going to sit and let him make fun of me
left and right as if I was weak. I told him to wait until we broke for lunch then he can have chance to prove his claims
He was the terror of the class and kept away everybody by his tongue. He was heavy and could have beaten me. He
was not going to wait that long to teach me a lesson. However, my uncle had advised against being easily irritable, it
was hard to keep oneself from problems like the fights at school. He made to rise up and come for me at my desk,
what a false step for him. As he rose the leg of his locker caught one of his legs, and he faulted. As he came tumbling
forward, I hit his face with a fist that shocked him. The applause that issued from the class was deafening. The scuffle
continued for a matter of minutes and he was on the losing side. I kept on punching his face, particularly his nose
until he bled. The noise made the teacher who had a lesson with us come to class running. As he opened the door
ajar what met his sight was least expected. “Stop fighting! He shouted. The shout made the other boys separate us.
“What have made you boys become bulldogs in school he enquired. It was magical as the whole class turned against
him and said that he had hit me severally before I reacted. He was sent home to bring his parents for indecent
behavior and I was made school prefect. Each class had two prefects, one for the class and another who was for the
school. It was a coveted position and I got it for fighting. Later I would come to know that all the school prefects were
considered hard cores and were always under the watchful eyes of the deputy head that would expel you from
school for any slight mistake. At lunchtime, my classmates celebrated me. It was history because that boy had never
been challenged by anyone. He was a sore to the school management and what I did to him pleased the teachers too.
I was not strong and disposed in fights enough that I would have beaten him but it happened that he tumbled at the
wrong time and I made use of the opportunity. I was dragging behind me a history of maltreatment, fights and deeply
seated candour. He was relieved of being prefect hence then. I would have made life difficult for him but it was just
unlike me. I wanted friends not enemies; I had left many behind to afford making others.
I had taken control of my life by running away from home to town in pursuit of something and I had a strong
conviction that I had drawn relatively closer to it. The further one was from secular education the closer he was to
tradition. The traditional beliefs were gender oppressive and retrogressive. It was no doubt that some of these beliefs
had kept the communities together but largely their importance was outdated and invalid in a developing society.
You could not call to question any belief because the ancestors believed in them. There was no an explicit answer to
many of my personal questions. At the end of each traditional belief was the threat of death. On several occasions, I
listened to the reasoning of the people in the village and it fell short of my admiration. I hate to subject myself a slave
to unsubstantiated beliefs of the ancestors. The many sets of rules only sentenced people to death neither improved
the life of one. I believed to have detached myself from these ritualistic practices. I was determined to embrace any
change as long as it was not contradictory to a certain law that operated in me. A family whose ancestral land was far
away had accepted to educate me with no strings attached. That was a humane act of the highest order. There was
no way I could thank them satisfyingly other than being obedient and doing well in school. I never wanted to smear
their name whatsoever with any sort of behavior. Even after being made school prefect my heart was heavy with
regret, this was the second time I was getting a school prefect after a fight. I felt being unfair would not only
compromise my credibility but would also tarnish the name of my sponsor. It was right; I had to do something about
my temper. However, it became an inward battle that I fought for many years to come near winning.
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My school days were busy. I spent my weekends either at the British library, or at the shop. At the library I read the
books, I could not get at school and at the shop; I became an apprentice for the Optician. Back at home in the
evening, I would help my uncle in the kitchen. It was as if the blank pages of my life finally had a penman and he was
busy filling up the pages. I joined the drama club at school and as I continued to bring my temper under control, I
made good of an upward surge in exuberance. I would reach out to others, the teachers, fellow students and the
employees at the shop. The school library had few books and fellow classmates would count on me on any subject
that required research. Slowly I gained the admiration of the none- teaching staff of the school. My sponsor’s wife
filled up for my mother. She would check my books each week and give correction and encouragement. My progress
was matching ahead of me with a giant’s stride. I watched television and other movies with the children of the house.
However, their love for horror films discouraged me and I would stay in the house and read instead. Being keen their
mother noticed this and started cutting down the time her children spent watching movies. This gave me the impetus
to push on.
At the end of the year, I received an award for exemplary performance and when we went for the annual prefects
meeting, the dreaded deputy head teacher gave me an assignment that had far-reaching effects. I had to find out and
report on those who smoked bhang. I was afraid when I accepted to do it, but promised myself not to do it. I
reasoned to myself that word may get back to them and that would put me in danger. One week passed and I had
not reported on anyone. I was summoned to the office. I thought I was going to be relieved of being a prefect. Any
student who entered that office either left in tears or went home. I knew I had done nothing wrong though but I
feared because everybody spoke ill of Mr. Patel. I was always in proper school uniform and I did not know what had
made Mr. Patel summon me, yet he did at the assembly in the morning. I was to see him during the break time.
Nearly each class member was taken aback by that announcement. Even other prefects sneaked in during period
change time to enquire what happened. I truthfully did not know what I was required for. I braced myself for the
great meeting though. At break time, I made sure that I was properly tucked in and my socks up to the level
expected. I put my hands behind my back, bowed my head down and started for the office. Those students who
watched me go said that I looked like a condemned man heading for the guillotine. Deep down in my heart I thought
the time for reckoning what happened when I fought had arrived. I tried to bring back what I had toned down but I
was not able. This was a new me with a resolution to tame delinquency. However hard I tried to unearth that hard
self, the angry and unyielding former self, the more I became fearful. The office that was less than fifty meters away
seemed to have moved miles off its original position. Mr. Patel saw me through the window and asked me in before I
knocked the door to his office. My fear was written all over my face and he saw it. “You are afraid I can see it all over
you, perhaps you have run into problems, yes you have,” He said as he pointed the chair. I managed to say, “Sir I am
sorry for the offence but do not send me home. Punish me as heavy as you would wish but spare my sponsor the
grief of my action. Once I know the offence, I will promise not to do such a thing again” “Sit down and stop quacking
like that, your offence is that for a week you have not reported to me anyone smoking bhang in school yet every
break time teachers report smelling it in the air.” I felt relief come back and strong will to serve. “Why have you not
reported, do you smoke it too? He asked suddenly.
He listened attentively as I explained to him. Yes, I knew some of them but I did not know where they smoked it. ”Sir I
had thought of my own way of doing it but you have tied my hands behind my back. You announced it at the meeting
so all eyes are on me and they will not be careless in my presence. Some of them are your prefects.” He shook his
head from side to side and said, ”I know that too, and it beats me that I have put you amidst them and you have not
reported them. Just be honest and tell me have you tried it yourself? This term I am expelling two girls for pregnancy
yet the fathers to their children will remain in school. Think hard, hatch a plan and I will help you execute it,” He said.
“Sir, kindly allow me to let you know of what I have thought of tomorrow” He was smatter and before I mentioned he
said, ”should anyone ask you why I summoned you, tell them that your sponsor had not paid other levies and it
appeared that he had so I was going over the records with you. Tell them anything but make sure you do not betray
our cause. Write what you come up with and deliver it to me in the morning as a letter. Now run back to class the bell
is just about to go. I had been there for less than twenty minutes but it looked an aeon. I sprinted back through the
corridors to class.
The many queries about my sojourn to that office were all over. Had it been today perhaps his office would have
been nicknamed ‘the Hague’ I met the questions with confidence knowing that what come may I had to find a way or
else I would be in problems myself. I went home and raked my head on the best plan possible. I had borrowed and
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read investigative book series from the library but this was different. It was not finding the hideout of a hoodlum or a
gun used in a criminal offence but going out your way to know how, where and when some of your own schoolmates
indulged in a vice. When I was picked up from school that evening, my sponsor saw my forlorn looks and asked me
what the matter it was that was troubling me. They had become my second family I could not hide anything from
them. I let him drive for some time before I asked him, “Is it right to tell out on others at school if their conduct is
unbecoming? “What kind of conduct do you mean? “Suppose some of them used drugs? That was a shock to him for
I saw him observe my face on the mirror. “Drugs is a very complicated issue and you have to be careful whenever you
mention someone because you may end up in greater problems” I did not find any reason to keep meandering.
“Some of the boys in our school smoke bhang and the deputy head want me to find out where they smoke it
particularly in school and report it to him” I offered. He did not say anything more but drove on. His gardener
doubled as a night guard, however when we came to the gate he was nowhere. I came out the car to open the gate
and he drove in. I walked round to collect my bag from the car, believing that by the time I came to the car he would
be gone inside but he was still seated in the car resting his head on the steering wheel. I opened the car door and
picked my bag while he looked at me. As I made to leave he asked, “Can you swim? Change and join me. I did not
know why and where he was taking me to swim. The relation had developed to almost like father-son. While we
drove out again he said that his family were eating out at a friend’s house but he did not want to go with them.
Though he called that person a friend but he said he did not like him because he had cheated on him when he took
his car to the friend’s garage. The friend charged him for a spare part he did not fix. Regardless of skin color, he had
feelings just like the rest of everyone. I saw in him a common flaw that plagues many. Despite the fact that he knew
the wrong thing his family friend had done to him he was unable to tell him. He kept his friend in the dark leaving him
to believe that nothing was wrong, yet here he was telling someone else whom he knew that information would not
leak from. We went to a members- only club not far from the town. I had in my life swum in a pond but not in a
swimming pool. I had not even come closer to one. We came to the club, parked the car and headed for the pool
straight away. He got off the T-shirt dropped it beside the pool and dived into the water. For few minutes, he
remained under and as I was going to start worrying, he surfaced at the other end. I did exactly what he did, dropped
my own T-shirt alongside his and dived. The cool water enveloped me as I swum under, but not as long as he had. We
did not remain long at the pool though I wanted to. He sent me to pick other shorts from the car as he remained in
the pool hanging on one of the pool ladders. We went together into the changing rooms and changed into dry shorts.
I thought we would leave immediately but he led the way into the clubhouse. The waiters knew him and one of them
asked him about his children. We sat at a table at the corner and he ordered a soda for me and a beer for himself.
This was another shocker because I never knew he took beer. I could not conceal my surprise, however the frothy
nature of beer as it is poured into a glass reminded me of my first Christmas in Nakuru. ”I want to talk you about
what you told me as went home from your school” I held my straw with my lips as he looked at me intently. Bhang is
like a bad disease. Associating with those who smoke it no doubt leaves you with no other option but to smoke. It is
as bad as other hard drugs and that is why it is executable by the country’s law. However, the painful part of it is that
its partakers are sometimes very ruthless. It is a long chain involving even those you may not think would be in it. I
grew up in Nairobi but when reached high school I joined a group that introduced me to it. I caused my poor father a
lot of heartache and he had to send me to United Kingdom to complete my education, after which I came back to
start work. It was a bit difficult for me but my father made sure I was under very strict watch. Then I did not realize
how worthwhile my father’s action was. I nearly got into real hard drugs because of peer pressure, but the family I
lived with would not allow me associate with anyone they did not know, and to me it looked as if they were policing
me excessively. Slowly I came to realization that the restrictions were for my own benefit and not anybody’s. I came
back a graduate with resolutions and determination. I worked for a clearing and forwarding company but I was not
passionate about the job. It was not what I wanted to do in life. Therefore, I quit and started business. Because I want
to protect you, I think you have the right to tell your teacher what you know and those bhang smokers in school and
better do it fast” That was all he said and finished his beer quite meditatively.
I had been told what to do and I wanted to do it my way. In the letter I wrote to the deputy, I requested that I be
relieved of the prefect portfolio. I requested for a ball and little more time. That morning the deputy announced my
removal from the position. The students murmured, because they liked me. One of the prefects walked with me as
we went to classes and asked, “Why have they done that Victor? “Because I was unable to find out the bhang
smokers!” was my short answer. At break time, I got my ball from the games master. It was brought to my class and
given to me as a gift for having served well. I was set to go now. Each day at break time I would use the ball as an
excuse for approaching any group of boys who stood anywhere in the school compound. I would kick the ball their
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way and follow it fast. My nose was out for the scent of the smoke. For three days, I was unsuccessful but on the
fourth day as I was running to a group of girls after my ball my nose got the scent. Strong scent meant it was coming
from a place not far from where I was. The only place that I had not checked was the basketball pitch. It was sunken
and that meant you could not see anyone if you stood few meters from it. I kicked the ball towards the pitch and shot
after it. There they were, six boys squatting at one corner. One of them, a prefect made for the ball and kicked it back
to me. The others did not bother of the intrusion and kept on with their business. God, I finally had them and the
hideout! I knew what they were doing. I pretended not to look but for a short glance, I had them in my brain’s
camera except one who squatted with his back toward me.
After a biology lesson at the laboratory, I went to report the finding. I chose the biology teacher because I did not
want to be seen visiting the deputy’s office. The biology teacher was delighted that I had broken the jinx. Our
Geography teacher lived in a flat overlooking the school compound and he confirmed by watching the pitch from his
upstairs room. The teachers made their own arrangement and the boys were caught. They were expelled from
school, and I was restored to my position. The following term I was made deputy head boy. Nobody suspected me in
the saga though. Both the head boy and I would spend a lot of time in the staff room during breaks to get instructions
on what to do on different circumstances. It had been tense when the boys said where they got the drug, from the
man who was housed by the school management. He sold chips at the school gate and made huge profit from the
business but he had corrupted it by augmenting with bhang business. He was evicted from the school gate by the
management. The deputy head teacher became my best friend. The school would rest from the vice and the hard
cores were gone. The school management and prefects had very easy time. Even though we knew some of them
remained in school, they would not dare smoke anywhere within the school compound. There was complete
tranquility with fewer fights in school. Even when boys fought it was just something that could be traced and handled
within school and I would wonder how just few boys held the whole school at their mercy. When schools closed, I
juggled between the house, the British library and my sponsor’s shop. One day about lunchtime, he gave me a bag
and asked me to take it home to his wife. I was not to open it. It was not very heavy though and I made to the house
very quickly. He came shortly after me and I wondered what brought him home just soon after sending me. Every
week I would ferry that bag to the house but I did not know the contents. It was funny and fishy, how was the bag
always taken to the shop and why was the weight almost the same every time. On the first weekend when I came
home with the bag from the shop, my uncle was in the kitchen. I delivered the bag and joined him in the kitchen. I
helped him set the table and left for the servants quarters. He had hinted that we would be going fishing that evening
and I wanted to catch up on the schoolwork before that time. When we went to collect worms to use as bait, he
looked disturbed. “Uncle is something the matter? You keep on talking to yourself, what is it? Is it your wife? Please
tell me” He walked ahead not bothering to reply. That day he changed our fishing spot. We went along the coast to
the place called hippo point. It is known by that name to date, because one would never miss seeing a hippo there.
That place was superb, with lots of rocks jutting out of the blue lake water. There was also no need to remove our
clothes. We jumped from rock to rock until we reached the one that was best placed, flat and faced the deeper front.
We cast lines and concentrated on the sinkers. It was not long before I made a catch and uncle caught two slightly
smaller one and folded his line. He said, “My nephew stop fishing, we have caught enough for food, fold that line and
let us watch and enjoy the scenery before we go back to the house. I did not want to leave immediately but I obliged
and folded the line. We sat on the rock and watched the fishing boats returning to the beach after the day’s
excursion. Their sails could be spotted while far off but sooner they would be near and you could see the fishermen
on board. I was imagining the catch each boat had when he said, “Do you know what that bag you bring home
carries? I said, “I do not know, moreover I was asked not to open it even once” “That bag carries money, they are
ferrying what they have always saved at shop because they are leaving the country. You have done well by not
opening, I was worried you might and take off with their money and that would put me into problems” I felt hurt
“uncle am I a thief? “No, I did not say that but it is such a huge amount of money that to the young mind like yours
temptation might prevail. Just relax I have not told you all my worries, they said they will hand me over to a Pakistani
family, but I have worked for them ever since. I am worried too that they were paying your fees and if they are going,
you might not be able to finish school. The new boss may not be like them and that is my serious worry. The issue
about school threw me into the oblivion. The pounding of the waves against the rocks could not reach my ears
anymore. I wanted to run away to some quietness equivalent to non-life. Had fate flung me to the original square,
what would I do? I do not remember in the clearer sense how we walked back to the house but I went straight to
bed.
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On Monday as he escorted me to school, I wanted to seek the truth from him. I knew keeping quiet would hurt me
more than anything. Yet I did not know how to get to the point. I was not his son and I had no right whatsoever to
question his plans. He was a well-wisher and I had not asked him to do it, he did it from his own volition how could I
justify my inquisitiveness? I failed to ask him that morning not even in the evening when we went home. A beast that
had been laid to rest was resurrected. I became very volatile, ignited at any time in school and at home. I always say
that I went to school while there were teachers. They were concerned with the welfare of each and every student.
My turmoil did not escape their attention either. The summon to the staff room yielded nothing to the teachers. I
had suddenly recoiled to the old shell, angry, secretive and self-centered. However, my biology teacher, Mr.
Jaichandra told my sponsor about it. I knew it was him because when I was picked from school on Thursday, I saw
him leaning on the window of the car talking to him. Even though it did not come to my mind that he was saying
anything to do with me but I later came to know he did it. Madhu was a very patient man and he did not rush. The
next morning he told me to ask for permission if I could be released by lunchtime. “If they allow you then walk over
to the shop and we shall leave for a two-day journey. I started processing the leave-out by break time. It was a chain
of process starting from the class teacher, head prefect, teacher on duty and finally the deputy. When I got the slip to
leave, there was one lesson remaining but I went to class, and due to the fact that I found no teacher in class I picked
my bag and left.
I made it town in a very short time. His shop attendant was repairing the lock of the door. He was surprised that I had
been released so early. “You have secured a holiday for yourself, now let us pick my children from their schools and if
I find that they did not ask for permission then they will miss the holiday. They have to learn to stand on their own
feet, not expecting of me even to the smallest things of life. Though I knew that he was strict but I could not see him
leaving behind his daughter because of something he could do by phone. The boys had asked for permission but the
girl had not, and I thought being the eldest nothing would proceed without her. Seeing is believing, I saw and I
believed. She complained all the way but her father would not listen. She had taken after her mother, with many
words per second. I thought what she needed most was a loud ‘shut up’ but her father was not of that kind. He
remained rooted in his decision. As we alighted he said, “Victor hurry up we are leaving in a short while” I did not
know what to take though and I consulted my uncle if he knew the things I could pack for myself. I packed a couple of
pants, undergarments, T-shirts and some books.
It was my first holiday in manner that it should be. Lake Bogoria; what a beautiful place! We put up at a hotel. I had a
room to myself next to his sons’. I sat on the bed and fed my eyes with the beauty of my room. The mother who
seemed uncomfortable leaving behind her daughter, talked all the way or rather complained but in their ethnic
tongue. I did not know what to do or not. I decided to take a bath first. The beauty of the en suite bathroom amazed
me, way off the usual nondescript servant quarters. When I came out the bathroom, I was shocked to find Madhu
sitting on my bed leafing through the books I had brought along. Could this be called intrusion or luck of respect for
privacy? I had always known that for manners you have to announce your presence by either knocking the door or
calling out. The face is the best barrier we shall ever have in history. It has a capability of hiding everything it can
show and in a matter of microseconds. “Oh, you are here, I did not know you would come! I said as I closed the door
of the bathroom behind me. He continued with the books without looking up. It was good I had carried my short into
the bathroom and I had only the upper part of my body naked. “I have come to check if you like your room, do you?
He did not wait for my answer but continued speaking. Mama says you should not come to the dining hall with us,
but I cannot let you to be served in your hotel for some reason that is so minor. I knew because I was black, she
would have not liked me to be seen at the table with them. Black people were supposed to be inferior in their setting.
If a black person was in their company, he was either a chauffeur, cook, gardener, house help, or a night guard. I
knew she had not transcended racial discrimination. On the other hand, it was amusing because the hotel workers
were all black. Their house help back at home was black and here she did not want to be seen dining on the same
table with a black! “Coming into contact with your family has propelled me to different heights; am proud that I am
staying in a room that is cosy, besides you pay my school fees and has brought me out with your family. It would be
ingratitude to do something she does not desire. You have given me a face and I should belong to my designed
boundary. I have no problem keeping out of her way for her and your sake” I said and sat on the other side of the
bed, turning my back on him. He got up and came round; put his hands behind and walked to the window. “My, my,
you have misunderstood me very much. She is only afraid you may not know how to handle the cutlery, and that may
cause her embarrassment. She does not mind of your skin color but your etiquette; that is why I am here because my
sons have insisted that we must eat together. Come on, when we get to the dining room, you have to keep your eyes
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on how I use the cutlery. I know you are a good leaner and you will not make any mistake. I hope you are going to
remain calm; there are so many guests in this hotel; different nationalities, and age. Food is served in a half an hour’s
time, be ready and join us. I will sit opposite you so that you can observe me carefully” He left while I put back to the
bag my books. I opened the wardrobe and found many clothe hangers. I took a few, hung my trouser and shirts, Tshirts and shorts, and put them into the wardrobe. I chose one of the T-shirts his son had given me and put on. I put
on my socks and slipped my feet into sports shoes.
In the corridor, I met one of the hotel valets. As I did not know, where the dining hall was I greeted him before asking
the way. “Good evening sir, how are you doing? He looked at me mesmerized and smiled sweetly. “I am fine young
man” he said and kept looking at me. “Your parents must be proud of you,” he said. “You have pleasant manners, do
you need any help? Yes sir, how can I get to the dining hall? I travelled with an Asian family and I think they are
waiting for me at the dining hall” “Oh! The Indian couple with two boys? They are out at the hotel backyard watching
the peacock. The man has sent me to pick their son in room 12B, would you mind waiting a moment while I pick him.
”That is my room” I said and showed him the room plastic key holder with the number. “It cannot be, but let us go I
will confirm,” “You doubt them because I am black? “No, Yes, I think. We walked together passing other rooms. He
led the way through many corridors until we came to an archway that faced a mahogany door. We walked out on the
well-kept grass. I could hear many voices and took the corner that opened to that place. It was fenced off with chainlink but the beauty that man was not allowed to come nearer to was there. I had never seen such beauty in life. No
other name would have fitted this bird. I had seen birds and the ones I knew by name fell to fewer than a hundred.
This epitome of beauty, whose name in my language I did not know caught all my senses. The hotel worker who
brought me along was explaining to other people about the bird. I wanted to know why one of the birds spread its
tail in a beautiful semi-circle and the other did not but the answer I got was not satisfactory; only male ones do that;
was the answer I got. I wished there were fewer people, so I could get chance to ask my questions. Cameras flashed
as photos were taken. I had no camera and the record of my visit was to be piled in the deeper recesses of my mind.
Even though I was naïve, I remained calm and composed. Soon the guests started to troop back into the hotel. No
one paid much attention to my company and it gave me more confidence. If I made a mess, it was unto me because
totally nobody was bothered by my presence. I realized that all the feelings that kept on nudging me were a complex
originating with me. I sat facing him as we had agreed in my room and finished the meal without any problem. We
left the dining hall happy and I went off to my room. I was a student and I had some reading to do. That was my first
holiday in the sense of holiday. I remember to date, the color of the drapery and of the bed sheets. While the boys
spent their time watching horror films, I went out with their father to see the natural geysers. We talked about the
food at the hotel and about the staff when neither was within earshot. His father had worked with the British
building the railway and they were British citizen. His in-laws lived in Britain. I knew he was preparing ground for the
news about their leaving and indeed, he was. ”You are really a son to us and we want you to be happy. However, my
family is moving to England very soon. I will hand over your uncle to a Pakistani family and that means that the very
family will take care of your schooling. The security of my uncle’s job had been assured and my schooling too. Despite
this, I felt emptiness when I thought of their leaving. I had become used to them that they had become a family for
me.
The Pakistani family found their own house. They did not like the house vacated by the family who introduced us to
them. Their main concern was security; there was a home guard by day and at night, there were two night guards
with two fierce Alsatian dogs. It was a sweet family with two adult daughters. It was difficult to tell when they were
home or out. The wife was very kind and soft spoken. After a couple of weeks, I had gained their approval. I
remember the first time when she met me in her kitchen as I was mopping the floor and my uncle was putting back
the utensils that he had already washed she was not amused. “James, why is he doing that, he is supposed to reading
his books or playing outside? James was a man of very few words and he stood looking at her dumbfounded. I came
to his rescue. “Please, I am only helping him so that he can finish quickly that he may have little time to take me
fishing I cannot go alone” “You have to ask for permission to do any work here because I do not wish to be charged
with child labor” she said softly. She stood looking at me and I did not know whether to continue or to stop. She must
have seen the venom of hurt rising to my face for she smiled and touched my chin saying, “do not be angry my little
son. Do you catch any fish when you go out fishing? My uncle got back his voice and answered before I could. “Yes
Ma’am we catch big tilapia, sometimes more than enough for our house” She looked at me and spread out her palm
saying, “When you catch one as big as this bring it to me I will buy it from you. There was no way we could avoid
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going to the lake that evening even though we had not intended to. Both my uncle and I would not like to be seen as
liars.
With our fishing gear, we left for the lake. We bought some bait from the boys who sold them to those who did not
like wallowing in that mud for the worms themselves. We settled down to fish but my mind rode off to the departure
of the Madhu family. Even though the sons had left me clothes and shoes, my heart was still heavy with the thought
of their going away. My mind and eyes were clouded with tears that surged deep from my heart where all pains
resided. I had not moved on, it was difficult to. I had a father but he had not acted kindly to me and I had not forgiven
him adequately, to warrant friendship. I knew that I had buried deep inside me some ill feelings against my mother
too. Fish after fish my uncle angled out as I mulled over my life quietly. My angling line woke me from the reverie. A
fish had swallowed the bait, hooked itself, and was now trying to run away with the angling line. I held tightly with
both my hands. It was the biggest catch I had ever made and it took me a long time to subdue the fish. When I finally
did, my uncle shouted ‘hooray’ and started folding his own line. This was some cue for me to know that time for
leaving had arrived. He had caught many fish more than we could need in the house, but none was as big as mine
was. He had a nylon rope that he passed through the gill covers and out the mouth of each fish and a real load it
became. It was dusk when we left for home. My huge fish had been roped last so it could be the one to be taken out
first. At the gate, James gave me the fish and the fishing lines and gave me instructions for his wife to prepare the fish
boiled. The guards opened the gate for me while my uncle went to the shopping center. I remembered the Pakistani
mother saying that I bring her fish. I looked at our catch it was enough to last us the whole week. I made up my mind
to give away the big one. I went to straight to the back door and rang the bell. Her husband came to open, may be
they thought it was my uncle calling to do the evening chores. Both of us were surprised at this short meeting. “Hey
Victor it is you with a load of fish, looking for your uncle? He is not here yet. ”I am not looking for my uncle, I thought
Ma’am would like fish so I have brought one for her” This back door led directly into the kitchen and as we stood
talking his wife had come into the kitchen. He said something in a dialect I did not understand but it set the wife and
the daughters running to the door. I removed the big tilapia from the rest and held it out to them. She asked before
taking, “How much do I pay you for this? “You do not have to pay, I did not buy it, I got it free from the lake, and you
can have it free” They were all amazed and the more they insisted on paying the more I became adamant that they
take it free. Finally, they accepted and carried it inside as I went to the servant quarters where we lived.
It never occurred to me that my gesture would be unpleasant to my uncle. He came to the house to change so he
could go into the employer’s house as we were gutting the fish. The wife congratulated him. “James you have caught
a lot of fish today, thank you. Did you tell your nephew you wanted to eat stewed not deep-fried? “Yes that big one, I
want to eat its head” He left for his evening chores without knowing that the big one he was referring to had already
been given out. I do not know how he was shown the fish, but when he came back to the servants’ quarters I faced
the music. I was reading when he came back and I was shocked to hear him call me so tersely. “How dare you give
out the best that I wanted to eat? His eyes were bulging out as if he was going to strike me and his lips were
quivering. I had never seen him angry and I always thought he believed in giving but at this moment, it was the
opposite. “I have always thought you to be a good boy but you have made me sick, real sick, my nephew you are bad
and worse than your father!” That night I went to bed without eating and I cried the whole night. I knew that family
had not eaten the fish yet because he said while berating me that I give food to people who are not hungry and go on
to keep in the freezer yet he wanted to eat it fresh. My peace was shattered and broken into smithereens. In one
night, I took stock of my life more seriously than I had never done. I tried to look at myself through my uncles eyes
and see how worse I could be than my father. He had never stayed with my father and the things he knew were the
beatings I told him I got at my father’s hands. How well did he know my father? Why in the name of goodness sake
would he make such a comparison? I could not go back to the Pakistani family and tell them that he was complaining,
that would not reflect well on him. I decided to bear the brunt, after all, I had always been a black cat, unwanted, and
rejected. This marked another beginning.
I was up by 4.00am and prepared myself. By 5.30am, I left the house for school. Even when I came into the hands of
this family the ride to school did not cease but he dropped me in town then I could walk to school. I knew I made him
leave the house early to catch time for my sake but now I felt inwardly that it was not their obligation to take me to
school in addition to paying my fees. Mr. Ahmed was not pleased that I left without informing him but I got my way
round him that evening when he asked me. I told him I had to leave early because I had to attend morning preps. I
felt the need of steering myself all alone. How could fish be compared to vast amounts of money paid for my school
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fees? I did not want to belong to myopic way of viewing things. I had to distance myself appropriately. One night my
uncle battered his wife for questioning his relations with a certain woman. I do not know how it ever got into his
wife’s ears that he had another woman outside but he later asked me if I told his wife that thing. “Ah uncle how
would I ever know that you are keeping another woman without you telling me? I asked him. That left me with only
one faithful friend the self. I came home each evening late via the library. It was the ideal place to be for quietness.
My uncle did not know that he had put a wedge between us. Whenever he asked me to go fishing with him, I would
find reason to remain. I found out that I had so many places to spend my time. On one weekend, I went to the house
of the ophthalmologist who shared the shop with Madhu and found them in real problem. His wife as old as she was
had broken her arm after falling and could not do anything. My visit was godsend to them. I washed clothes and did
the house cleaning, In between doing the few dishes they used. When I was leaving in the evening, he gave me some
money. Even though, I wanted to refuse taking it, he beseeched me kindly and I accepted the money. We made an
agreement that on alternate weekends I would visit with them to help with house cleaning. They had no house help
and depended on casual people who they did not know and needed attention all the time lest they stole anything. I
had even made up my mind that I would be going fishing on certain weekends but not with my uncle.
One Sunday, after he had slept out, they fought for the bigger part of the day. His elder brother came to see him and
found them fighting. He was shocked at the things the wife said about his brother. As he was about to leave I asked
him, “Uncle would it be possible to come and live with you at least your house is near to my school? James heard me
ask and threatened that if I changed dwelling place then he would ask Mr. Ahmed not to pay my fees. It was his
brother who asked him a mind-boggling question, “will you get that money instead? He remained silent and I did not
know what was in his mind. However, I went to Mr. Ahmed and told him that I wanted to move closer to school
because; it would be easy for me to be in school on time. This made me know that they were also leaving and he had
made arrangements with a colleague at his office to make sure that I got my fees. This family was in Kenya for a short
time that they could not find my uncle another job. James would be job seeking in two months’ time yet he did not
know. He was my uncle and no matter what he would remain so. I had to let him know that the Ahmed family was on
transit and he should start looking for another place.
That is how I found myself living at Railways estate in my elder uncle’s house that he rarely he came to. He worked in
the marine department, would be gone for a week with the sea vessels and when he came, he would go home to see
his wives; he had three. Mr. Ahmed’s colleague turned out to be a Mr. Allan Johnston whom I have since lost contact
with. He told me that when schools opened I would go to him for my school fees cheque. He paid the fee in full allinclusive. Since Madhu’s departure, I had not had it easy though. I had hardened further. I had the house to myself,
and because I had got in touch with my mother and informed her of everything, she sent money for upkeep. I learnt
then how vital it is to live within budget. I had become a lone wolf; however, I was able to weather the storm.
Years at whose end exams are written normally appear to candidates to whisk away. That year was similar and the
exams came. Five days after my last exam paper, I packed my belongings and left for Eldoret. I did it out of my own
volition. I had weighed factors between going back to the village, to my dad and step mom and going to Eldoret and
chose the latter. My mom knew I would be going. After all, there was bad blood between dad and me. It was as clear
as crystal that it would take mediation to bring us together again. Over the years the brutal beatings and abuses I got
had grown into a giant that kept on haunting me every now and again. It looked raw like it just happened the other
day. I harbored no real intentions to revenge in the same manner but felt hopeless and not loved for the reasons I
could not trace their roots. I did not compare myself to street children because I had a score of relatives and above all
both parents.
My mother had a small house but it was all right for us. Each morning as she left for the wholesale market I would
remain to do the little house chores there were to be done. By mid-morning, she would be back and both of us would
be at the stall where she sold. It was a small business but it was able to keep us comfortably. I was waiting for the
results even though I knew that I had come to the end of my schooling. I had no identity card and that meant that I
had to go back home to acquire it. We tried on two different occasions to get an identity card from Eldoret, but to no
avail. Therefore, we laid out plans on how I would go home and go about it. I knew that dad would not have the
amount of hold on me then as he did while I was younger. When I came home, things looked changed. My dad
welcomed me well. He thought I had finally come home to stay and because my results were not yet out there was,
little I could say on my own part. I would hang out with my uncles who were my age. Most of them had not
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proceeded beyond primary school. Some of them were thinking of moving in with their other relatives in town and
looking for jobs. One of them Felix, was looking for the card too, had a bicycle and we used it. We started at the
Registrar of person’s office. The forms were to be completed, be endorsed by the assistant chief, chief and the
Divisional Officer and then returned to the registrar. The assistant chief was easy to find and he did his part. We
would wait for the chief at the chief’s camp for several days without success. The other staff at his office did not
know when he would be in or they refused to tell us. It looked as if I was not going to get it but one village elder who
is a relative told us to time the chief on Monday mornings. What were needed of him were just a rubber stamp and a
signature. If we thought, finding the chief was difficult; the Divisional Officer was more eluding. By the time, we
returned the forms a month had already elapsed. The results were out and I knew I would get my results slip on my
way back to Eldoret.
It was planting season and weeding needed to be done. My stepmother had planted two large tracts of farmland with
maize. There was good rain and she needed help hands. We made a group, I and two other uncles of mine and we
settled down to farm work. All the time I kept on praying that, the identity cards are brought soon so I could leave.
For a fortnight, we had cleared out and could now rest. We were age mates, they had girlfriends and I did not have.
Several of the girls they recommended were either my relatives on the side of mother or dad. Even though they were
distant relatives, but I found it impossible for me. Even though I had good reasons, I could not convince them
otherwise. Finally, the waiting ended, our IDs came and I informed my dad that I would soon be leaving. The
disdainful abuses I reaped for telling him that not only drove more wedge between us but also made me loathe him.
He had made private arrangements with his cousin, who was a head teacher that I get a place as an untrained
teacher, a position he argued out that many teachers had started at. I was only to wait for and present my result slip
once I got it and I would be done. Had he consulted with me, without reference to my mother and desisted from
abusing me perhaps I would have thought twice about it. However, the issue of their estrangement seemed to
feature a lot in any facet of any conversation we had. I did not want any part of it. The period I had taken out had
started to heal me yet here he was busy pushing me back to that innocuous self. The good thing was that he could
now shout but did not attempt to lift his hands on me. My stepmother then had three children, a girl and two boys
and the least of possessions. I loved my half siblings but I was sorry for them gauging on the kind of growth I had. I
decided to leave incognito. I knew he would be hurt but it did not matter to me now moreover it never to him when
it was due. Behind the façade of silence and cheer lay seething anger and deeper urge to pay back. I had not
adequately forgiven dad for all he did to me especially the abuses. What remained was the facts; fact that he was my
dad, fact that he was estranged from his wife and took custody of me, fact that I had beaten for the same, fact that I
had now grown up and would find my own space in life. Under all circumstances, I had to leave and the earlier the
better.
I left and went back to Eldoret. Nobody knew I was leaving but on the day that I was leaving, I passed by the graves of
my foster grandparents. I do not know what took me there but perhaps because it was the shortest route to the main
road and I found myself there. Gregory died before I left for Kisumu but his wife died while I was away and I was only
shown where her remains were laid. A wooden crucifix eaten by termites lay by the side of the graves. My eyes were
clouded with tears remembering how nice they were to me and now they could get up no more. To date I do not
know why I said what I said or why I did; but I said “Grandpa, grandma, I am going away but I do not think I will come
back any sooner, not while dad is still alive. But I am sure I will one time be buried here” I stood for some moments
and in my imagination it was as if both of them were waving goodbye to me.
Mom was happy that I was back; she now had an extra hand to help her and someone to talk to. It had been long
since she had been home herself and she was happy to know that I saw her father and stepmothers and that they
sent regards. She did not ask me how my dad was doing though she knew that the other wife now had three children.
She was updated about home from a source I could not tell. After dinner, we would talk a lot but she would avoid
asking anything about my dad. I knew it was deliberate and no mere chance. I started looking for a job. What mom
had saved all this while would one day disappear when a con man convinced her that he was going to find me
employment with the Kenya power and lighting company. The man wanted five thousand shillings. Mom did not keep
her money in a bank and I wondered if she could raise such a colossal amount of money going by the business she
was doing. She had piggy banks of various shapes hid away in the house and one hence one night she got all of them
out. Some had notes others had coins and yet others had a mixture of notes and coins. We counted the whole lot
together, going over again to make sure we had not made a mistake. The money fell short of five thousand by four
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hundred. Therefore, mom withdrew half her capital and topped it up. We now had the money, but I was feeling
uneasy about giving out money before I got the job itself.
Mom had been saving to buy a plot and build a house for herself. She liked Eldoret because of its rain pattern and
had a kitchen garden that gave our vegetables. That money was even enough to buy that plot and when I suggested
that let her buy a plot first, she could not hear of it. “Once I get you this job then both of us can save for the plot you
hear? She said with finality. I looked at her face and saw her heart in her eyes and I knew I would not stop her either.
The man who was ostensibly to find me a job, took the money and disappeared into the thin air. Mom kept on
checking at his house but he could not be found. His neighbors divulged that he was really a clerk at the company
but had been sacked and had left the town. Damn, conned of such amount of money. Mom did not want to talk
about it. One day as I was distraught, brought up the issue, blaming her for not listening to me, and buy the projected
plot first. Unlike my dad, she did not get mad at me but started weeping. “You may not know how much I owe you,
more than any amount of money can buy. Losing five thousand shillings because of you is like nothing to me. You
must grow up to know that when a person takes away from you anything but your life it should least bother you. I
still have the same hands that I used to make that money; I will still save even more understood? The matter was
hence closed. I hence never trusted people who posed as with goodwill for the jobless. One morning I went to buy
bread from the shop and we got to talking with shop owner. She was my mother’s friend. Her little daughter would
be left with my mom for long time during the days her mother went to town to get her wares. She told me that her
husband worked with a Construction Company, and that virtually nearly all her brothers were in that trade. When I
went back to the house, I asked mom if she could ask her friend to help me find a job with the construction company.
She did and the next week I was casual laborer at the now Chepkoilel campus. Casual laborers were paid a sum of
two hundred and fifty eight for five working days. That was the first amount of money I earned working with all my
might. I came to be friends with the masons and most of them had learnt the trade from relatives who did the same
work. I never told any soul that I had done my ‘O’ levels and made them believe that I was a school dropout. I did not
mind how they used me. I was the youngest and the most inexperienced. They would talk of various topics ranging
from drinking to women. Even though they did not invite me out but I started feeling emptiness and whenever they
talked about the good times, they had over the weekend I would listen attentively.
I started thinking about girls, may be a girlfriend would make me brag as they did. Over the weekends, I would be
helping my mom, sometimes I was alone at the stall the whole day. That is how I met Helen. She had dropped out of
school and lived with her mother. I never wanted to ask her about her father lest she asked me about mine and that
would be like strewing salt over a raw wound. My mom had rented a house for me not very far from hers and Helen
would sneak in most nights. My mind had not gone off completely the idea that we had been conned of an amount
much enough to purchase a plot and since I had made up mind to save for the same purpose. From the money, I
brought in each week and the proceeds from the business mom decided to invest in secondhand clothe business.
Within a short time the business picked up very well no doubt, we were on the track. I came to meet Joseph on his
field service ministry and we started studying the bible with him. Joseph worked with the then Ministry of livestock
Development, and one day when he came I was not home, I had gone to check on one of the people whom I worked
with. For a week now, we had been stopped and were not doing any work. Mom had taken part of the money and
invested in Kerosene. Each evening I would be busy selling kerosene. I did not know that mom knew I was having
relations with Helen. One evening she asked me, “Do you know that this girl Helen who is your girlfriend has been
promised to someone else in marriage? That was news to me and the shocking part of it is the fact mom knew yet I
thought she did not. “Listen my son,” she said, “That man has gone a great length with his arrangements with that
family. He bought that plot and built the house for them. It would not sound well for him that his wife- to- be spends
nearly every night in your house. He has money and you do not, he might hire thugs and your head would be off your
neck,” She said with finality. ”Anyway, your friend with whom you study the bible Joseph has been looking for you.
He has not been able to find you for a long time now though he said that he is looking a job for you, so weigh Helen
with death and the prospect of serving God with a job.” Mom knew how to put things in such a way that one must
outweigh the other.
That night Helen knocked at the door for a very long time before I opened. When she kept on knocking, I thought the
neighbors would come out to check so I opened. At first, she denied that she had been promised in marriage to
someone else but when I asked her how they got their plot, she told me everything. I knew it was over between us
though. She suggested that we elope but that was less weighty than getting a job. She did not know my background
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proper to suggest that we go home, how could I run away with someone’s wife? It was unthinkable. It was like, the
dowry for her had been paid and what remained was just formalizing the marriage. In the morning, I made a mistake I
regretted over for a long time. To show my disinterest in her I decided to go jogging. I told her to lock the door when
she would be leaving. She searched the house in my absence taking away all the proceeds from the Kerosene sales;
nearly the cost of a drumful of kerosene. I never thought she would do such kind of a thing. In the evening, I looked
under the bed where the small box containing the money was, but I could not find it. It was a great loss. When I
confronted her, she swore on her head that she never took the money though it showed in her eyes. She had been
the cause to my hiding from Joseph and what a calamity she had been to me! How would I explain to mom that
money had suddenly disappeared from my house? I had to do that as fast as possible before mom asked me to go
replenish the stock. ”Mom money has disappeared from my house, the whole lot I sold” She stood in her tracks and
looked at me, saying ,”come again! “I said I cannot find any money that I have sold and I do not know where it is
gone” She slumped on the chair next to her and I thought she had fainted. “Who else has the key to that house apart
from you? “Nobody mom” “I had a premonition it would happen so. I have been uneasy about your Helen, now look
how you are headed to the toilet to cry. You toiled doing hard work only to throw it down the drain. If you continue
your escapades with Helen, you will lose something more than money; your life and do not say I never warned you”
That was a lesson learnt the bitter way. I nearly went into depression, but Joseph helped me find back my grid.
It was a Saturday evening ,after the now resumed bible study that Joseph told me, ”Victor can you come over to my
office on Monday morning with your certificates, likely there could be an opening somewhere” I did not know what
kind of work it would be but I was elated. Agricultural Mechanization services. Joseph found me a job that was
beautiful. When I reported to the station, I was shown my office and the officer in charge asked me whether I would
be commuting daily. I was allocated a staff house and it pained me that I was leaving mom behind. On the other
hand, mom was happy for me. Apart from the bed and the few utensils Mom gave me, there was no other
possession. I was passionate about my job and was always in the office by 7.30am each working day. One after
another, responsibilities kept falling on my hand. One morning my in charge half opened the door to my office, threw
a brown envelope on my desk saying, check the payroll file and make a payroll for the people in tea zone, prepare the
break down together with the payroll in that envelope, get them typed and come to my office for further instruction.
It was no mean task, I had to enlist help to do it on time, and when they were finally typed, I felt exhausted. I
accompanied him to the bank, to deliver the breakdown and the next day to withdraw the salaries. At the tea zone,
he sat in the land rover while I paid the casuals and that marked the genesis of my being the paying officer. Apart
from other office clerical duties, I would find myself sent to purchase even spares. Most of the staff at the station
were elderly people and they took a liking of me. The time I spent in the office became minimal as I drove with them
from point to point. This elderly group once out were hilarious like adolescent youths. In this set up, I tasted my first
beer, and sooner I had become their drinking partner. In civil service then there were many ways of making extra
money under the desk and these led to continuous drinking. I shortly forgot about Joseph and the Christian life he
was teaching me to lead. Each day I was in the office the copy typist liked coming to my office and she proved to be a
wealth of knowledge for me in the discharge of my duties. We called her SIGALAME, nobody knew her husband but
she had children who went to good schools and she lived well beyond the position’s salary. Her name was Margret
and she was a very forceful and talkative woman. I would engage her in various debates to test her IQ and alas! She
was well informed on any topic I brought up. If any Officer brought a letter to her to be typed and it had grammatical
or spelling mistakes she would not do it but if she did, she never corrected the mistakes.
One evening shortly after closing, a girl in green skirt and white blouse passed at the gate towards the staff quarters.
“I say, Margret, whose daughter is that? I asked the typist. “Stop looking at school girls you will land in problems
young man please” “Is it a crime to know whose daughter one girl is? “Not exactly in the sense but only if you had
any agenda besides knowing the parents” “And if I have no other agenda then you can tell me whose daughter she is,
yes I have no other intention. “Her name is Achieng, your tribe I suppose.” We left the office but the name stuck and
hence thence our paths seemed to cross a lot with this student. After the Helen saga, I had kept my pedal up, and
now what was this that was happening to me? I did not realize that I would leave the office to be at the gate as she
passed most days. One thing I was certain of was that I had feelings for her; some deeper feeling that could only be
understood by me alone. Severally the typist’s warning kept popping in my memory ‘stop looking at school girls’.
Through the schoolboys, I gathered as much information about her as much as possible. I went into her father’s file
because I was in charge of the registry and dug more about them. One Friday I intentionally waited at the place the
school bus dropped them and when she alighted, I called her. As she came, I found myself being afraid. “Hallo my
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name is Ochieng and yours is Achieng I suppose?” I extended my hand in greeting and with that brief moment, I knew
I had found my love.
One thing led to another and soon she was frequenting my house. She was writing her exams that year and was
nineteen. I proposed and she was hesitant because she wanted to go to college after high school. During this short
period, she got pregnant and when she told me, I started arranging to move from the staff quarters. Shortly after I
had moved back to the area, where mom lived and rented a house, her father came to my office. After the usual
greetings and ‘what can I do for you’, he said. “I know you are responsible for my daughter’s pregnancy and all along I
have kept quiet. I understand you are planning to marry her and I want to let you know that I am against it. You are a
fine young man and if you are looking for a girl for marriage, I can assist you but not my daughter.” He left me before
I could reply and what would I said though? I scribbled a short note and sent to her and I received a reply
immediately ‘Forget about my dad concentrate on our plan’. Soon they took her away to live with an uncle who was a
gynecologist in an effort to beat our plans. She called my office the moment she settled there and gave the house
number and how I could reach her. We would be on phone for a long time each day and as the days passed I thought
of telling my mother. My mother’s brother Richard was visiting then. I talked to him first and he encouraged me to let
mom know. She gave birth to a baby boy and went all the length to ask me what name to give. All night I kept in
books trying to find a name for my son, lastly I settled for the name Loammi. Within a short while after we arranged
to elope. We had tried all possible avenues to convince them to let us, but her parents would not hear of it. My mom
liked her very much and the baby much more. She became our babysitter. The young child took long time with the
grandmother more than us.
I got one good thing and one bad, I was fired from my work. However, I had my child and wife all that would follow
did not matter to me. A friend of mine who was a production manager with a carton manufacturing company told me
to apply for there was a vacancy in their company. I got the job and settled down. All these while dad kept on writing
to me asking to go home and I did for a short stint. I took my wife home to introduce her to my dad and other
relatives. He had sunk deeper into drinking and my siblings were in an ugly shape. There was another child a baby girl
in the family now. Even though he kept working as a butcher for someone but no doubt, what he was getting, was
not able to keep them adequately. I moved back to Eldoret with my wife and child. It was an Indian owned company,
and most supervisors were Indians save for one who doubled as a machine operator. One evening the production
chain was running cartons for a fabric company. I was keeping the stores and the printing technician ordered ink from
the stores. It was my duty to give what was requested not to verify what color of ink was to be used. The technician
had made a mistake in the shade of the blue he wanted and I had his requisition note with me. They had run about
three thousand cartons and the Indian supervisor found out the shade was not coming up as required. Instead of
finding out with the printers what ink they requested, he came direct to the stores and slapped my face shouting,
”why have spoilt my products?. Rage like I never felt before engulfed me. I felt like I was walking the clouds and my
tae-kwon-do classes flashed in my mind. The first kick I threw sent him sprawling out of the door and I shot after him.
He took the stairs more than one at a time running for his life towards the MDs office. Both us entered the MDs office
simultaneously. The unannounced entrance disturbed the MD. Before him were two men, one frightened and
another in rage. He got up motioned with his hands saying “relax, relax gentlemen,” The supervisor was explaining in
his language while the MD listened and when he finished the MD turned his gaze on me and asked, “What is it, what
have you done with the printing?. He had explained his part of the story in vernacular and I did not understand a
word of what he said so I decided to give my part in my language. The MD had to call the production manager who
had recommended me to translate my part of the story. They had never seen anything like that, in their factory and
the supervisors slapped people often. The MD looked at me and said, “You are angry, we cannot talk now, take two
days off duty counting from tomorrow and report back O.K.? I collected my jumper from the stores, threw the keys to
the other supervisor and left for my house. I realized I was still angry and I did not want to reach home in that state. I
decided against taking a vehicle and walked. Had he not ran away, in my mind I had figured the steps of the fight; it
was four tier; displace,(by kick)empty the lungs, shock the heart and break the neck. God forbid I would have ended
behind bars with murder. I sauntered home, letting all the fights I had got involved in my life flashing in my mind and
the advice I received after each. I remembered being told to do something about my temper lest it developed into a
fire that consumes me.
When I reported to work, the gateman told me that the MD had said I see him before commencing my duties. I
knocked and went in. “Sit down” he said to me. I sat looking at him. He smiled at me and said, “I believe today you
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are in good spirit and is not in a fighting mood.” “Oh! Yes I am fine it was just a small misunderstanding, I am sorry I
overreacted” “We discussed what happened between you and Mr. Acharya with other departmental heads. Our
findings are not to exonerate either of you from the responsibility. We consider that this is a work place and all
employees are to maintain good conduct, and that applies to all, I inclusive. Perhaps I would have reacted the same if
I were you. However, all matters considered, the management deems it appropriate to relieve you of your duties. I
know you may want to defend yourself but take note that we are not going to send you away without pay. As per our
terms of employment, we have written a cheque worth three months’ salary, leave and a small bonus for your
exceptional service. I am sending someone to you shortly after this to whom you will handover. Do not be in a hurry;
take your time and handover properly after which you can go to the Accountant to pick your cheque. Even though
this month has not ended yet but the management has decided to pay you a full month’s salary but it is not included
in your cheque, it is due for collection from the cashier after your handing over. I wish you good luck” Had they not
paid me so handsomely I would have contested that I was provoked unnecessarily but my hands had been tied. They
had observed all aspects and even added to it. I thanked him and left for the stores. I could not hand over in a single
day, it took three days and I was through. I was on the road again; jobless.
Things seem to change so quickly and life moves on so fast when you have no job to wake up to. My wife was
pregnant with our second child and here I was with no hope of getting a placement sooner. I had literally combed the
town, from office to factory and I was almost giving up. The answers seemed the same; sorry we do not have any
vacancy now, not even my numerous applications yielded any fruit. One day, before I went home I decided to see a
certain friend who worked in a saloon. In fact, she had relations with one of my former workmates, I found her
braiding but because I had nothing to do and being tired, I decide to wait. I sat long and dozed off. Their laughter
stirred me but I did not open my eyes. They were talking about me, she was telling her client that I have had hard
times and that she was very sorry for me. The client asked, “What did he study? She answered, “I may not be
precisely sure but my fiancée with whom he worked is heavy plant mechanic. Perhaps we can wake him up and ask. I
needed not to be woken and I spoke instead. “Madam, I did not study anything as a skill but during my past
employments, I have served in various capacities” “If you have a form four certificate perhaps you can try our office I
heard the manager saying that he wanted to add more sales persons. It is at Eldo center, first floor room eight. My
company occupies almost the whole floor but the room I have told you is the manager’s office. I am a secretary there
so you will find me. I was walking the whole town whilst a job was waiting for me in a place I least expected. I forgot
to ask what they sold but left the saloon immediately. The manager turned out to be my tribe and shortly after I had
been ushered in, we were speaking in vernacular. It was an insurance company and the manager told me that I had to
undergo a two-week induction course. For the same period, they would give a small allowance for lunch. However,
there was no definite salary but the more work you brought in the more you earned; the less you brought the less
you earned or if you brought in nothing you did not earn. After the course I hit the road; an insurance sales
representative. For the first week, I visited most of my friends but none seemed to be interested or they were insured
by their respective institutions. I started raw canvassing as it is called in that industry; visiting those whom I never
knew before. The second week I sold out three life policies. I knew that with perseverance I could bring in more. From
the referred leads, I got more business. This was an open field practice but it needed tact and being pleasant. I still
remember with amusement one of the procedures; ‘Once a client signs a contract form, take off immediately’. It is a
very funny and exciting work; it only depends on how you arrange your words. Some people buy insurances that
they actually do not need, but by the time, they realize that they do not actually need it; you have earned four or five
months of commission on their premium. Some would have even changed their mind if you waited a while longer;
hence the “take off”.
Once I sold a third party liability policy to a company belonging to my former MD. This company had invited four
other companies and all the five us sat before a panel of three. You had to explain your product in the presence of all.
It seemed a daunting task because each one tried to discredit your product. Even though ours was the most
expensive, I flew where all others crash-landed. I did not know that this would later become the straw that broke the
camel’s back. I was supposed to get my cut within two months. First only seven percent was sent. By office rating, I
stood at fifth position of regular producers. The secretary that had led me to this company had shown an indifferent
attitude lately. However, through office gossip we knew that she was the manager’s girlfriend. Because of the
anomaly where they sent less, I wanted to confirm with the head office in Nairobi. I asked her to allow me use the
phone on her desk, and because she was busy typing a certain letter I drew the phone towards me and started dialing
the number. She reacted, as I had never known before. She snatched it from me and replaced it to its original place.
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Had she stopped there I do not think anything would have happened but she gave me a slap. As my vision blurred
from the slap my rage came up. That darker part of me which had been bottled surfaced immediately. It happened so
fast that I do not know the step-by-step account of it. The tiger had been roused and it had to tear viciously. I held
her by the long braids of her hair and hit her face severally. My fist felt like I had put it in a mitten against her soft
face. It was early afternoon and it took two other colleagues an effort to stop the fight. It was the darker afternoon,
there was also branch briefing and here I had disfigured the secretary. She went to the hospital and I was fired that
day. I thought she would pursue legal redress but she did not; I do not why. That meant I would produce no more
work but I would go to the office each month to collect my cheque for the customers who kept paying their
premiums. It disturbed me that I had hit her so badly and on the third month when I went as usual, I apologized.
“Rosemary, I know I hurt you and I am very sorry. All my perceptive powers were clouded by your slap find it possible
to forgive me”. She looked at me with disbelief; I do not think any man had ever apologized to her for whatever
circumstance. She even allowed me to take her for lunch, a time that I used most in apologizing further. I still vividly
remember what she said when we parted ways. ”I am proud of you for being manly enough; showing remorse and
sense of apology. You are not the first man to beat me up, but none of them has ever apologized even if it became
clear that they were wrong. That is why I have remained unmarried this long; I envy your wife but thanks for the
lunch”. “Do not mention it, you deserved it though, thanks too, see you later”
All aside, I found myself still falling back to square one. I was worried on how I could keep on without a job. I was also
becoming irritable. In the house, there was a new baby and I was dying to get another job. Mom had recently been
at home and brought back with her sister’s child. He was older than my son was but now my son had a playmate.
Tribal skirmishes broke out, though it was other tribes but I was uneasy because such kinds of things do spill over. I
thought of home and felt shivers. I had no house at home and I had absolutely detached myself from the many
traditions of our tribe. I knew if I went home, it would be a lot of do’s and don’ts. On the other hand, it was proving
too difficult to survive on the now dwindling commission. My mother’s sister lived at the lakeside. I had visited her on
various occasions but that was long ago. As the skirmishes heightened, I just had to send away my wife and children.
Of recent, a bus heading for Kisumu had found barricades on the road and unsuspectingly stopped. The passengers
were attacked regardless of their tribe. This was a clear indicator to move my family. I wrote a letter to my mother’s
sister informing her that soon I would be sending my wife, my children and her son to her. I believed they would be
taken care of properly. I wanted to remain around and try finding some job anyhow; and so off she went.
One month after she left and there was no letter whatsoever I began to be uneasy. We had agreed that she write
back and it disturbed me that she had not. When I could not contain any more I decided to follow up. First, I did some
enquiry with people coming to town from my area. She was not at my home and that confirmed that at least they
were at my Aunt’s home by the lakeside. I picked few of our belongings and locked the door. I thought I would be
coming back soon but that was not to be. That is how I moved to the lakeside too. My uncle was a beach leader and
having confirmed with me that I had no job in town where I came from, told me he would look something out for me.
Since our last fishing expedition with my uncle in Kisumu, I had not been near the lake. I found that I had developed
some phobia too and would look up several times when I went to bathe to confirm it was just waves not hippos or
the dreaded crocodiles. There were stories of those who had been taken unawares while they bathed or swam in the
lake. My uncle in whose care I came had also recently married a second wife. It was being said behind her that my
uncle was her seventh husband. However, her presence had tipped the scales against my aunt. Since my wife’s
arrival, she had taken over the running of my aunt’s house. My aunt had three sons, three daughters, three members
of my family and herself that added to a household of ten. When I arrived, the number went up by one.
Perhaps the uncle had abandoned her because of number of household members. It still beats me why men abandon
their families; but it remains a fact that my aunt was living in continuous want. Pray, I sent my wife there. It provided
me with a chance to see how kind she could be. She would wake up early and make ‘chapatis’. These she would sell
at the beach and the proceeds would go to up keeping of the house. I had to find something to do to lighten her load.
My uncle managed to find me a place as a loader for one of the fish buying companies. My daily pay was fifty shillings
and then a packet of maize flour was twenty-four shillings. That left me with only two shillings because the household
needed two packets. We remained here for close to a year. I reasoned that if ever I could move out then my aunt
would really suffer. For close to a year we had not bought anything for our children and ourselves. They had even
outgrown some of the ones they had. One day as we were coming back from work, my children ran to meet us. With
me was a cousin who was also loader. My daughter had tears along her both cheeks. “What is it mama? I asked her
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as I put her on my shoulder. “I am hungry” was the answer. My cousin’s name was George and as I saw him off, he
got talking to me. “Victor, you heard what your daughter said? Why should you let those of your own suffer? “George
there is never enough for this family” “How many are you in that house? “Eleven” I answered shortly. “Why do you
not rent your own house where your children can have what to eat instead of seeing them with tears every day? He
asked. “George my uncle has abandoned my aunt and if I go away I do not know how she will manage. In fact, since
my wife arrived the running of the house shifted to her and when I came we have continued to shoulder it”. I replied.
“You are mistaken; before you came they were managing. What makes you think they will die when you go away? To
think along that line is absolutely good for them and bad for you.
George woke me up; perhaps I would have subjected my own family to further suffering. I knew it would be hard and
surprising when I would finally tell my aunt about it. It was obvious like life and death that we could survive on the
little per day payment we got. On the other hand, I did not want anyone to feel slighted therefore, I had to be
discreet. We made an arrangement whereby my wife would go back to Eldoret to visit with mom and during her
absence, I would find and pay rent for a house away from my aunt. I found and paid for one. Everything I left in
Eldoret had been seized by the landlord for default in paying rent. I had to start afresh. Even though my seized
property were of greater value than the rent owed there was no way I could save and go for them and even if I did I
would not find them in the state I had left them. I let go; that moment I remembered my mom’s phrase that whoever
takes anything from you but not your life, has not achieved much. I bought a mattress and few utensils for a start.
Until then I had not told my aunt that I would be moving to my own house. When I did she protested seriously that I
would ruin my family and that I would sink into debts. “Are you quite normal to move from here to a rental house?
She asked loudly. “The amount of money you are paid as truck loader will not suffice to pay your rent and feed you”. I
knew her cause of complaint; she was wrought because her source of survival was going to be withdrawn. Because
George had been my constant partner she tried to talk to him to make change my mind not knowing that the very
George had set the ball rolling. George was my savior, when my wife came back she got relief; relief from washing
loads of clothes; relief from doing many utensils; relief from doing a lot of house chores and in addition to that she
rested from hawking chapatis and would sometimes find opportunity to read and rest. We had the least of
possessions but we were a lot happier. From my little pay we started to save, something that had been impossible in
my recent past. Our children became healthier and plump. My daughter who was most of the time crying had
laughter and happiness on her face again. Each evening they would run to meet me as I came from work. My family
was new in that area and did not have friends yet so we had time for ourselves. Imagine survival on fifty shillings as
daily rate. Money had value. A loaf of bread cost kshs.2.50! A 2kg packet of wheat flour cost kshs. 6.00. George would
sometimes say sarcastically, “has any one died because you moved out? My dad had since known that I had moved to
the lakeside and would send greetings.
I embarked on another project, to make my mom move back at least nearer to home. Since I had not seen at any
single time a spirit of reconciliation between her and dad I did not want to be a mediator. Severally I visited and what
we discussed was how she could move nearer to home. Finally she decided to come home. In my tribe any woman
separated from her husband is a prostitute and the terminology or word used to describe her is very despicable. My
dad had moved to Bondo and continued to work as a butcher. I looked and found a single room rental house for mom
long before she came. I wanted her to stay nearer to home as much as possible therefore I chose a shopping center
near to home. I knew she had a penchant for business and would not take long before she found something to do.
Even my impossible father had shown a little change of attitude. He would on occasions send meat to us. I knew
sooner he would be asking me to either go home and build or let my wife visit them. My mom sold what she could
sell and came home and I was happy that she was nearer then. I would let my wife visit with her for a long duration of
time. During these visits I was made to understand that dad would go to mom’s house presumably to see his
grandchildren or to see his wife or may be both. Nevertheless, he continued to drink, that made me be very careful
about allowing my wife, and children stay with him. There were many lessons we were learning by ourselves; no
mentorship. On one of his visits to mom’s house he found my wife sleeping while the children played. My mother was
not around. He sent me a letter requiring me urgently. I was wondering what had happened though I made haste and
went. I went to Bondo where he worked, but he told me that the issue he wanted me for was of greater magnitude
that it could not be discussed at the place of work; thus I headed home. I went to my mother’s house to see my
children and enquire if anything known to them was the matter to warrant that request. My wife told me that the
day he found her alone he asked where she slept and if always she had been sleeping on my mom’s bed. I guessed it
had to do with building or traditions, but I went home and waited for him. That day he came home sober and as
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much as I had guessed it was to do with traditions. He asked, “My son why have you done such an abomination akin
to sacrilege? Why did you allow your wife to be sleeping on your mother’s bed? She will never be able to get another
child and perhaps she may just waste and die with her children. I want you to go get soil from the door of your
mother, come here with your wife and I will take both of you to magician to cast a spell and restore her fertility, do
you understand? I knew I could not make him see things the way I did, we were two distinct people. I felt these
culture and tradition based beliefs had no hold on me and I could drink no concoction mixed with soil. I did not want
to raise an argument nor to agitate him and therefore I kept silent.
The next day I left in the morning before he got up. I wanted to avoid the ‘when’. I had slept in my cousin’s house and
I left from there. If he knew my disposition he would have considered what he told me to be an abomination more
than my wife sleeping on mom’s bed. My mother wanted to know what my father wanted me for, and therefore she
asked me. I did not hide it from her. It was pleasant that she had also broken loose from the enslaving customs. She
laughed for length and said, “My bed has got nothing to do with your getting babies and I think you even know that
better me. I left for the lakeside with instructions that my wife follow me soon. My mom escorted me to the bus
stage. She said to me, “If you listen to the dictates of custom and tradition you will end up in a situation worse than
you ever imagined. Rationalize and if possible analyze before you take any step. Some of the requirements of our
people have been eroded by the passage of time and what they held on so dearly is what they cast out now. You are
an adult you have a beautiful chance to subject anything said to you to test”.
I did not ask for permission from the purchaser of out truck as I had left hurriedly. That caused me the loss of the
placement. I did not fear or fret unlike the past. The lake was an open field you only needed the right equipment and
vessel then you could harvest without asking permission from anyone. However, before I started, a proprietor of a
bar heard that I had been fired. He was a very rich man, with many boats and other properties. He invested wisely
and stood out tall for the things he had done. He also owned one of the only two bars at the beach. He asked me if I
could work for him as a barman. We agreed on the terms of payment and I commenced work. That is when I came
closer to powers beyond human comprehension; precisely put I came closer to demonic controlled business. One of
the requirements of my position was to pick one bottle top of each brand of the drinks sold in the bar and put them
in a designated pot. I could hire and fire barmaids of my choice. Even though he helped me out the first two days, he
became very rare at the bar. It was left to me the responsibility of buying from the distributors. He had a unique book
keeping system. Apart from making my work easier, it was easy to gauge how the business was doing. I was not
allowed to drink any beer but after closing, I could. Fishermen, because of the disposable amount of money they had,
liked partying and they stayed long passed closing hours in the bar. They would buy me one as they say for the road.
Some I would drink after closing yet others I would resell and keep the money. One day a Ugandan businessman
came to the beach. He was also a rich man and bought all the drinks I had at the counter and asked that everybody
seated when he came in drink. He sat down to drink with the people and it was a lot of merriment. I was always
careful and anybody who left his change knowingly or when drunk would get it the next day. The counter had an
inbuilt cashbox where the barman kept money. Because I could not go home after closing, there was a room for me
to sleep. However, something kept on bothering me. Each night after counting the days’ sales, I would put the money
in the box and lock it. Whenever I did the counting next morning when the distribution lorry came, I would have a
thousand shillings less. It was so unusual and I subjected it to test. The domination that vanished was one thousand
note. Other dominations did not disappear and I kept on wondering what it was that came after me and took away
money. Mom had told me to subject things to test and I was determined that I would find out what took away
money. All the money I got from the beers bought for me by the patrons I had to put back to cover for the less. I
would separate a thousand note domination from the rest of the money and keep them in my pocket. Whenever I
opened the drawer, a cat would jump out and stretch itself the way cats do and then shoot off. For the first time I
was not surprised but thought that, perhaps I had locked that cat in the previous evening. When it happened again
and again, I became curious. Because of handling their money honestly, the patrons liked me and I do not remember
any of them going without buying me a beer or two. I had money and I wanted to subject the issue to test, which is
what mom had said. I put some money in the box and a single one-thousand-note. The next morning there was no
cat but the money was gone. I did not want to panic, I was investigating. For four days, I put money with exception of
a thousand-note. No money was missing and the cat was there. On the fifth day, I did my last part of investigation.
The questions on my mind were, where and how does this cat enter box. After closing, I counted the money,
separated the big domination and put the rest into the box. I locked the box, did my stock to while away time and
after drew dawn the wick of the lantern and settled to wait. ”What time and how does this feline enter the box? I
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thought to myself. I kept vigil until morning and I did not see it. In the morning, my eyes were heavy with sleep but I
had accomplished my task. Throughout the quiet of the night not even, a sound of howling dogs had diverted my
attention. To my surprise, when I opened the drawer it jumped out! I had never panicked but then I did. I had taken
vigil to see it enter but I had not; it was extraordinary, this was no mere feline it was a I-do-not-know-what.
I needed no one to tell me what to do. I was not going to oversee a business that had other demonic overseers or
whatever they were. I took all the books and money, locked the door and went to the home of the bar owner. If I told
him that a cat had been coming out of the drawer, and he did not know about it he might feel slighted. Why bottle
tops being put into pot? No doubt, he knew where that cat came from and I was not going to ruin myself by being
involved in spiritism. He was still in bed and I waited for a long time for him to see me. When he came out, he was
equally surprised that I had come that early to his home something I had never done since he employed me. ”Do not
tell me you were attacked, because no human can lay his hands on you while you are at my bar, what brings you so
early? His first statement insinuated that security is guaranteed from certain quarters. I smiled and said, “I have word
that my wife has fallen sick and I need to go take her to the hospital in addition to that I want to leave money with
you so you can wait for the distributors and buy beer and finally if you can give me an advance on this month’s
salary”. He obliged to my requests not knowing that what I wanted was to hand him over his money, books and keys.
“Calculate five percent of the profit we have made for the current week and take it, I will not consider it an advance
on salary but it is for taking your wife for medical care. I breathed a sigh of relief, I had succeeded. I took seven
hundred shillings and handed him the rest. “Did you record closing stock? “Yes, I did and what remains is the days’
opening stock”. I wanted to look as genuine as possible and make him believe I was going to come back. “If I am late
you can open, is it right with you? We bid each other farewell but one of us had lost an employee and another had
lost a job. With my seven hundred shillings, I looked and found a small fishing boat for rental. The owner wanted five
hundred shillngs per month. I knew I was leaving behind a lot of money that could enable me keep my family
comfortable but the cat; disappearance of thousand-note domination was devilish. I had heard of people sacrificing
even their children or servants to such cultish rituals. I was afraid for my wife, my children and myself.
When I told my wife about it, she was shocked. She was also afraid for our children and us. Lillian my wife asked,
“Will he not follow us here if you do not go back to work? Or even send that spirit to us? “I have touched nothing of
his and I have even forfeited my salary for this month. I have only taken what he said I should take and if that is
reason, enough to harm us then only God can protect us from him. Kindly swear to me that if he comes looking for
me you will tell him I went to town to seek employment”. “No daddy, I cannot tell that lie he will definitely know you
are within someday and will consider me untruthful woman. Why not wait for him if he comes, tell him you are sick
of making people drunk? But if he comes while you are out, I will tell him you are out, that is even better”. We
agreed on that. As expected, when I did not go back to work, he came to my house the next morning. He found me
playing cards with David and others out the house. He must have seen it from my face for he simply asked, “Who is it
that has sweet-talked against working for me? Is he one of them with you here? I found courage that I did not expect
I would find and said, “No Jared it is the nature of work, it is quite unbalancing against my responsibility as a husband
and father and I cannot stand it anymore.” “I see, you want be a responsible husband and father, you cannot do that
without money, what will the wife and children eat? Somebody must have told you something about me, who is he?
“No JJ, nobody told me anything”. He left shaking his head.
I approached David and asked him if he could go fishing with me. He did not know that I had rented a boat already
and hence he said, “Presently I do not have a boat and I just fish standing on rocks” “I have a boat,” I said. “Wau! That
is great, and then I will give you some of my hooks and lines. We can go to deeper parts and catch big fish. Now let us
go and look for worms for bait. They had been considering me an urbanite and did not know that I had at one time
looked for worms and gone fishing. For one week, we continued with David and he did not know that what I required
was only to know the best fishing grounds and the time. The first time I went fishing, I sold sixty-eight shillings apart
from the ones I had set aside for food. That was way up above what I got as a truck loader but it could not compare
to the tips I was getting as a barman. However I had become my own boss determining when to or not go to work.
The more I continued the more I became an expert. In essence, I had control over my earnings depending on the time
of the year. After a while we parted ways with David because he did not want to pay the ten percent commission of
his catch to be saved and used for paying the boat. David had been fishing since childhood; he was an orphan who
never went to school, could not read nor write. He showed me many fishing grounds and became my best friend. He
finally rented a boat of his own and most of the time we would be fishing at same location. His wife who was also an
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orphan was also illiterate. Inside me, I could some time shudder and shiver when I imagined them being my children.
I started teaching David how to write. In my language word that translates to fisherman literally means ‘he who
follows’. It is very true; they follow fish wherever fish are. I knew the winds and could sense wind even before it
started blowing. We knew when this or that wind would bring rain. Moreover, we followed fish wherever better
catch could be made far and wide. I fished along the coast of lake Victoria from the boundary of Busia to Kisumu.
Sometimes we would be gone for weeks; docking and selling wherever we were; going after fish in deed!
To prove my father wrong about my wife laying on my mother’s bed and that she could not get pregnant again, we
stopped contraception and got another child; a girl. After some time we got to be talking, my wife and I. “What if we
got another child, a boy to round off; two boys and two girls” The boy we were looking for did not come but twin girls
instead. Our last trial also brought a girl and we said ‘quits’. My mom had requested and had taken my first two
children. She put them to school and encouraged us that we do the same with others whenever they attained school
age. During this period, my dad had a motor accident while going home from work. For long, he lay in hospital but I
did not visit him. He had earlier than his accident aggravated our relation, which had always been fluid. He wanted to
sell part of the family land, but when I resisted he abused me just like he always did. By then being adults he thought
I would react from the abuse and initiate a fight so it could be said of me that I fought my father. I left remembering
that at one time I had left home and said I would never come back. When he was discharged from hospital, my mom
wrote to me that I go see him, which I did not. In one of her letters that I remember to date, she said, “It is
ingratitude not to go to your father; you are not appreciative that you have a father. Things changes, if you cannot
forgive then you are very wicked. I would appreciate it if you came for your children so that I can also go away
because you do not value us”. I guessed that might be she had been talking to my dad lately because of this sudden
change of attitude. I made arrangements and rode home but before home, I came across a distant aunt of mine. “My
nephew you are going to see your father? She asked even before I said my greetings. “Yes, auntie how is everyone in
the village? “We are doing well except your father who became seriously ill last evening and was rushed to the
district hospital”
I rode back to Bondo hospital but could not find my father in the male wards. My relatives had also left, however I
found another niece of mine who had gone to visit a friend of hers. She knew I was looking for my father and said,
“Can I take you where he is? She started walking not waiting for my answer. We went out the wards and as we
passed the kitchen I thought my dad had gone out to sit in the sun, he liked to sit in the sun. My lead went passed the
kitchen and branched towards the corpse-bay, which then served as the hospital morgue. “Stop” shouted I, is my
father dead? “Yes, wait here, let me go find the attendant to let you in see him” She said and shot back. It is utterly
indescribable the feelings that came over me. I felt turned upside down and my eyes were clouded. I did not wait for
my niece to return with the attendant. I did not accept that he was dead and I do not know how I broke that door but
even when I came to him, he was truly dead. That door has not been repaired eleven years down the line. The
women who were washing at the standpipe near the mini morgue would later spread word that a certain man in rage
had flew and kicked open the door. I personally, I do not remember how I did it. In that state, I rode home and found
relatives wailing. Death had done me some bad, perhaps he wanted to make up with me before he died. Being the
eldest son, I knew my kinsmen were going to be on me with the many rituals. Each evening they would sit down to
make burial arrangements and would cap it up by asking me if I had changed my mind about the burial rites and the
after burial rites. My wife and mom agreed with me and one of my old granny from the family. I did not to subject
myself to rituals. At my father’s death, my uncles from both sides had insisted that my mom come home. A hut was
hurriedly built for her. I stood my ground with firmness that was unwavering. Immediately, my mother’s hut was
finished, they thought of a ploy to catch me. My uncles said, “Odera, let your brothers help you build a hut to which
you will return with your wife after the burial” If they thought they had me, they were in for a surprise. It was such a
huge gathering, men, women, and children but I refused their counsel. One of my uncles, even threatened me saying,
“You know we may decide not to treat you as the first son and you will be dead the time we are done with the burial?
I looked at him and said, “You were here when I left, did you ever force my father to look for and educate his son?
Did you ever know the perils I went through in his hands and outside? The gathering became quiet and let me
continue. I was now addressing the whole gathering, not only the threatening uncle. We ought to change and make
good of trend. What will happen now, dad is dead all the respect you want me to do to the dead are worthless.
Whether I shave my head and cut myself with a razor that will not raise him up, he is dead, dead. Anyway I am a
Christian and I do not participate in ancestor worship” “Sacrilege, abomination shouted one woman whom I could
not even recognize. “That is your perspective but as for me, I cannot carry war beyond the grave. We had our
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differences, yes and many they were and none can go beyond tomorrow when you cover him with soil. I looked the
direction of my mother and wife and said, “My mother I have no hold on her but I do on my wife. She is not going to
observe any of the rituals I disapprove of. People have been dying and you have been doing the very things but none
of them has come to life. Let my father have his respectful human burial and if anyone of you has issues to square
then we shall do it later. My tears have washed away all the grudges I had with him and I wish he could rise up so that
I tell him that I have forgiven him” One uncle shouted a war-cry and the meeting turned into a great pandemonium. I
was all eyes up and I saw everyone wailing bitterly.
Another shocker for the clan came on the next day before burial as people gathered for eulogy. My mom told the
gathering that she would not be inherited, as the customs require. Most of the young people who came to my dad’s
burial would whisper to me as they consoled me on the loss, ”just stand your grounds we are proud of you”
Therefore there were people who did not like traditions but lucked the guts to speak. I did not wait for four days, but
on the second day, I sent off my wife and children and followed on the third day. That marked the beginning of my
being left out in anything done in honor of the dead, be it a ceremony or a traditional naming. Those who said aside
but loud enough for me to hear that I would not live beyond a year are the ones who have died. I did not want to
wear my father’s cap. My children were important to me and I did not want to subject any of them to unwarranted
heartache. The other thing that made me earn many enemies at the burial, was the issue of land. I said, “If anyone of
you had any transactions involving land with my dad then I am sorry for you”. My father had sold off the bulky part of
the family land, despite knowing that he had children. My other two half-brothers had never proceeded beyond
primary school level and had both got married. My priorities were different from theirs. As long as they woke up,
went to the farm, found something to eat then they were contented. I did not want to force anyone to do as I
pleased, but my children I vowed had to grow up with ideals far from the ones back in the village. Even though, I had
not remained in employment most of the time, but my education that I sought with tooth and nail was of great value
to me. I knew that continuity was not hinged on the annals of traditional caprices. On the hand I would not like to
belittle those who held on the beliefs for it natured sanity in their lives despite missing the vast knowledge of the
book and freedom. Dad had lived his life and was now six feet under. Would I carry on my head the responsibility of
controlling the lives of my brothers and sisters? No, way I had to move on, whoever chose my style of life would live
as he chose. The children were still young and their maintenance was not difficult. I revered education; I could read
many different books tapping in knowledge.
One night a very strong wind broke out while I was fishing. I decided to land and go to my house until the wind
abated. I went to house of the woman who bought and resold fish to sell my catch. The fish had to be arranged in
sizes and thereafter the pricing. This took relatively long but finally I left for my house. The woman to whom I had
sold fish had children, one of them a daughter in class four. I did not know that while I sold fish to their mother she
had left the hut where they slept and hid in the maize plantation not far from their house. When I had someone call
my name from the farm, I turned the beam of my torch towards the direction. “Put off that light I want to talk to you”
I switched off my torch as she came, from her voice I had recognized her and wondered that perhaps her parents had
sent her out the house, or that may be she had done something wrong and was afraid to go to the house to be
punished. I waited patiently as she picked her way through the grown plants and came to where I was standing on
the footpath. “I saw you go into my mother’s house and came out knowing that after the sales you would take this
path. Can you help me with some money, I want to buy a dress for Christmas and I in return will give you something”
“What is this something you want to give me? “You know it do not ask” she answered boldly. “I do not know, what is
it? “My beautiful body” I was shocked I had not thought about that as an answer that would come from the lips of a
small schoolchild. I would have beaten her there and then but I thought otherwise. She may construe a story against
me and make my case complicated. “I do not have money for buying your body daughter, you can peddle it to some
other fishermen” I said and took off. Behind me, I heard her call me useless but I did not mind. I came to the house
and told my wife about the issue. We talked for a long time about it. How could a girl the age of my daughter be so
brave about being immoral? We knew that we had to move away from this place if we wanted our children to get the
best of their youth and education. We started arranging for relocation. My wife would take the children home while I
continued a little longer before I relocated too. The fish stock was also dwindling and I and other fishermen had been
contemplating going some other place. I sent my wife home and remained a while until we finally left for this new
beach. We set sail before midnight and arrived at our destination the next day shortly before noon. We had four
boats and our group of seven people did not have a house.
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As well as you might guess, David was with me and the third day after our arrival we found a house. The other five
smoked bhang and we could not live with them in a same house. We bought a mat, and a couple of cooking pots. We
could not continue eating at the hotels because it was very expensive. Because we worked at night, we slept during
the day. For some time the catch became so good and there were many buyers so, the prices remained stable.
Comparing to the place we had left, this beach was small but was interconnected to the villages that it looked like
one very big location. People here had cattle and milk was there in abundance. Within the first fortnight, I went home
to see my children. My wife told me that there had started to crop up some misunderstanding between her and my
mother. I had to do something. My last three children were still very young and could not walk long distance to
school. A new measure had to be put in place if my interest in my children had to succeed. The day I was leaving my
wife escorted me up to Bondo; she was also going to buy some things for the family. We entered a café to take soda
and that is when we struck a deal, on her moving to Bondo. She would come and look for a house and inform me. I
went back to the lakeside. I found that David had arranged for our milk delivery. The woman who sold milk to us had
a daughter. Her name was Pauline. Her mother was a widow but had many cows so on occasions she would deliver
our milk. Pauline became very frequent at our house and sometimes she would stay longer to make our meals, and
wash the dishes. Suddenly I became ill with malaria. I could not go to work and I remained alone at night. The first
evening I was too ill to realize that Pauline did not go away, but remained with me throughout the night. Soon she
was picking and washing our clothes besides cooking. I would talk about my wife and children and how I loved them
thinking that, this would keep her away. My wife had since found a house in Bondo and had moved with the last
three children. I would go to visit every fortnight or more. She had found a nursery school and the children were now
going to school, however she had not found anything to do.
I do not know how it happened but I found myself in a relationship with Pauline. The relationship continued for some
time. She spent most of her time at our house and I felt that I was pushing David away. One time I went to the lake
earlier but the weather made me come back before midnight. David had remained behind but he did not tell me he
was going to have some woman in the house. The episode made us part ways. The woman he had was somebody’s
wife. Her husband was an old man who had other wives but rented a house for her at the beach. I tried talking to
David, “Dave you know it is very unfair to take other people’s wife and in addition to that we are aliens here you may
not know what the villagers might do to us or to be specific the husband of that woman” I said. “Look here, nobody
chose you to judge what is right and wrong for me and I am not going to stop because you say, clear? He retorted.
“That leaves us with only one solution; we have to find separate houses. Either you move out or I do,” I said. The
next day David moved out and I remained. Pauline became too much and I started thinking twice, what if she
becomes pregnant, would I willing to let her take away the child? I knew I could not take a second wife and I became
bothered. The relationship had to end anyhow; the sooner the better. One afternoon I went to repair a leaking spot
in the boat I had. Some women were washing at the place my boat was and one woman came to me. “My son where
do you come from? She asked kindly. Because I had always resented being rude to the elderly we talked for some
time. “We know that perhaps you have a wife and I would like to whisper a mother’s advice into your ears” I dropped
the hammer and moved closer to her. “That girl Pauline, we know she is in a relationship with you and it is very
normal that you have a woman but I want to tell you something if you promise not reveal the source of your
information” “Yes, I promise”. “That girl has a wicked chest, if you continue with this relation you might end up dying.
Do not think she has never married, but the men she married, are no more. The first one died within the first six
months of her marriage and she came back. She was later given in marriage to another who also died before a year
ended. Everyone in this village knows about that but they will not tell you. I know you are a son of a woman
somewhere and it would be better if I saved your life. I do not have a daughter myself therefore, it is not jealousy
driven; take your cue if you heard me!
That evening I left very early for my fishing expedition. The information I heard about her not only made me hate her
but I hated myself too, for going into the relationship in the first place. She was at the beach when I landed in the
morning. I did not want her anymore I knew if the things I had been told were true then she might not be a load
easily thrown down. No matter what, my family, my life were a priorities! She came to buy fish and knew she would
get better bargains from her man. I knew that perhaps she had passed by the house and no doubt, my tea would be
ready. I bid the highest prices for the ones she wanted to buy but in the end, she bought them. I equally knew that
she would come to the house immediately; she did. ”Pauline, you have cheated me, you happen to be someone’s
wife” I got her unaware but she told me about the previous marriages. “Our relationship comes to an end today
dear” “Please Vic, they are both dead, and none will come to claim me either,” she said. “That is the main reason for
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our stopping the relationship. Pauline I am not a teenager, I am married with children whom I value most. I can never
marry a second wife. Our relationship is purely sex based and I stand to lose more if it continues beyond this stage.
Your past has left spots on your life like a Dalmatian and you cannot ever erase it. You have been kind to me you have
been washing our clothes including my friend’s David but it has to come to an end.” “But why?” she asked. “You dare
ask me why? Because of your background! You are uncomfortable with it and that is why you did not tell me when
we started moving. Why should I be comfortable with it anyway? Excuse me, you want us to continue so that you
become pregnant and force me into a second marriage? No, I am decided and nothing can change me” “Victor you
have slept with me and everyone knows about that what do you think of me? Who has been talking to you about
me? “Do not bring the aspect of sleeping; it makes me want to tell you one truth.” “You sleep me, use me then say
you want to tell me one truth? Say it! She had raised her voice and it was even better for the neighbors would spread
the word that I jilted her. I said, “Pauline whether you shout or whisper my decision is final. Sex with you was just
meeting the demands of an urge! Urge yes, like to pee, to scratch, or to poop but there was no love at all. I am not
able to love two women. Did I ever say I love you? Go away please I want to sleep I worked all night long” She walked
out pushing the door more wide and I knew she was angry. I remembered one of the ‘James Books’ angel of death. I
had got off the clutches of an angel of death. I sighed with relief; closed my door and lay down to sleep. I knew the
other part of it was remaining undone and unless I confessed to my wife, I would have no inner peace.
The news that I had left her spread within minutes and it propelled me into another problem that was hard to
persevere. Many women who do fish business are separated from their husbands; however, the rate of immorality at
the beaches is very high. Nearly every angler has ever sold fish for sex, even if it is not immediate. They do not wait
for men to reach for them instead they make passes some very open. I became very leery; I did not want to get
myself into the same situation once more for it had remained incomplete because I had not confessed to my wife. I
was distancing myself from people step by step. Any time I went to see David; he was having a different woman. I
sought another friend; he was my neighbor and spent most of the day out. One evening when he came back, I asked
him, “James where do you work? “I am a fisherman like you but during the day I work at my vegetable garden on the
other side.” He had no lines and hooks, no boat and I wanted to know how he did his fishing. The tilapia species is
dwindling because there are so many ways to catch it. I can literally count eight of them but perhaps some new
methods have come up by now. James’ method is the one I fear most because of the dangers it exposes one to. A
special circular net that opens like an umbrella has some metal rings sewed to one end. When it is thrown, it spreads
out and sinks into the water. Because of the metal rings, the other end sinks and the thrower follows it to hold the
metallic end. All the fish enclosed are brought out. One has to be a good swimmer to do this. Dangers: crocodiles,
snakes and even rocks that lie under water have caused many of them harm. I would take James in my boat to
different parts of the lake. For the initial few days, he would do the throwing and I would remain in the boat. In the
morning, we sold the fish and divided the money equal. I became uneasy, because I did nothing other than rowing
the boat from one point to another. As we grew closer, he started revealing himself to me. His parents were all dead
and he had uncles who did not like him. His home was far off near Kisumu. He impregnated a schoolgirl and when her
parents found out they went to his uncle. His uncle got angry and chased him with a spear. “Could he have speared
you if you waited? I asked him. “Yes, that uncle of mine is very wicked, if he can stab his wife with a knife, spearing
me would not be impossible to him,” he answered. James and I became inseparable. I would take him to fish while
there was still huge waves and when the winds abated I landed and he went to the house while I went back to do my
usual fishing method. One day while we were repairing our fishing gears I asked James, “my friend what do you think
of your girlfriend back at home? “Her father sent her away and she is staying at her maternal uncle’s home,” he
answered politely. ”What will you do about the baby? “I have not thought of anything yet” he replied. “Do you love
her or it was just a fling?” The conversation led to his seeking the address of the place his girlfriend lived and I took
him to see her. Finally, he took her to stay with him. We ate together and did most things together. It was him who
found out that Pauline had arranged with some villagers to attack me. We went to the local assistant chief to report
the matter but I became afraid because if they attacked me at the lake and threw me, it would be counted as an
accident. I saw my days in fishing were numbered unless I moved to a different beach. I decided one day in the
morning that I had to call it quits. I brought out all my fishing gear, poured paraffin on them, and set them ablaze.
I had informed my wife that I would be coming, and she expected me only that she did not know I was coming for
good never to return. The money I brought home I used part of it to repair my bicycle. I rented a sewing machine and
I would make pillows and sell. Around this time, my wife stopped going to salon to work for we found out that finally
what she brought home was far less than the work she did. I would ride home in the morning do some farm work and
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ride back in the evening. I decided to take my other two daughters who went to school at home to stay with me. I
knew if I took all the children, my mother would not feel good. We had stood by one another and I did not want to
cause her any worry. The children were doing well in school and were happy. We had the least of possessions but we
were satisfied. My conscience was bothering me about what had happened at the beach and knew that someday my
wife would come to know about it. The best way was to confess. One day we went home to weed our maize and as
we talked about our children, I thought that was the best moment to spill the beans. “Lilly I want to talk to you about
something that I would need to be forgiven even by God”. She looked up at me and stopped hoeing. “While I was at
the last beach I was, I got involved with a woman and had relations with her, please do forgive me” She picked up the
hoe and the tempo of it hitting the ground hastened. She did not talk for the whole period we remained at the farm. I
regretted why I told her but I could not undo it. The ride to Bondo that day was very boring. I made no further efforts
to bring up that issue or to ask her why she was quiet. I had lightened my own heart but had put more wait on her.
The day she brought up that matter, I did not expect it. “Daddy are you still seeing that woman? “What? Which
woman?” I asked softly. She had been avoiding any conversation since I told her about seeing another woman and I
did not know how much of the information she asked she needed and if what I said, would worsen her fragile spirit.
”The one you told me about while we were weeding” I gave the whole story from the start to the end. Finally, she
said, “I have been thinking heavily about it and for your sake I need to specifically touch on certain matters in that
affair. How long did the affair last exactly? Is there a baby and are you going to bring them both? “There was no baby
and the affair ended there when the old woman told me that she was like bad omen, to use her words, She said that
Pauline had a bitter chest that whoever got married to her died in a short while. I did not want to add up to the
statistics of dead husband” As I talked she looked at me keenly and I saw a flicker of sympathy in her eyes. To be
forgiven I needed but not for sympathy. I had even planned of seeing the elders at my church and to confess the
same wrongdoing. I felt an inner reform in me. A couple of months after reinstatement in church, the going got very
tough. The wholesalers who took my pillows could not take any more because they had not cleared the last delivery.
My wife had started baking doughnuts and hawking from house to house.
I had to find something to do but I had no skill. All the farm produce we had could only be sufficient for the family
albeit for a short period. I had a neighbor who was a plumber. He was sickly but his hand man was not regular at
work. I asked him if he could take me instead. “You do not know anything about plumbing but that boy I have trained
and he does everything, how am I going to work with you for sure?” “If you trained him you can also train me but
you pay me less than you were paying him, I think that arrangement can work properly” He accepted to take me. I
became his assistant, barely three days I could use the die so well. It was no doubt I was catching up faster than the
boy he had. We did together two major jobs but it was only pipework. We never fixed any wash hand basin nor a
toilet seat but my determination encouraged him and he taught me theoretically most of the things we had not done.
Jared was taken ill and was admitted at Matangwe. Three days after his admission when I was planning to see him
his wife told me not to go to Matangwe because he had been discharged. He came back worse than he had gone into
the hospital and within a week, he was dead. I felt frustrated and deserted; I was sinking deep into continuous want.
The house I rented had belonged to Jared’s parents. His mother died leaving the house, which he rented out. As
mandated by the customs and traditions of my people they had to bring the corpse into the house I lived in because
it was his parents’ house. I had to look for another house urgently. The family wanted me to shift my belongings to an
inner room and leave the other part of the house for them and the mourners. I did not want to subject my children to
such a scenario. I knew the customs demanded much more and this were the same things I did not believe in. I knew
if I stayed there, my children would be introduced to some part of unexplainable cultural rites. I found a house and
the next day after my Christian meetings we moved house. My new landlord was the husband to Grace, a nurse who
worked at Matangwe. By then I had started to make and sell juice. Because I did not have a refrigerator, I kept the
water I used in someone else’s fridge. I went to different markets with my juice. I would do plumbing whenever I
found anyone who needed the service. I had to find an assistant and Michael who was now my friend had no job too;
therefore, I did not have to look far. We normally pride ourselves in the fact that the houses we did are the ones that
have needed the least repairs. My landlady the nurse would talk to me sometimes about HIV testing but I did not
take it seriously. It was such a remote and mundane fact. Both I and my wife had no health problems then that would
trigger our need for HIV testing. By that, time there was a painless nodule on the second toe of my left leg. I wanted
to make friends with the healthcare givers before I went for the test. I was doing this because Grace had told me that
it could take many years before the infected showed any sign or illness. When the nodule grew bigger almost the size
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of a marble it became difficult for me to wear shoes. I showed it to the nurse, Grace who advised me to seek medical
help, preferably from Matangwe.
I went to Matangwe and found a medical officer, his name was Fred Onyino. After having a look at the nodule, he
asked me, “What do you want done Victor? “Possibly excise it or if there are some medicine that would clear it I will
be grateful” What he said after this did hung a cloud on my head for a long time. “Victor, such growths medically are
never good to interfere with, unless one knows exactly what they are. I would advise that you take it for biopsy.
Assuming that it is a wart, I will do as you requested”. He gave local anesthesia and chopped it off. Even after the
procedure, he reminded me of considering taking the nodule for biopsy. “Doctor where do I take it for biopsy? I asked
him. “Well, you can take it to Agha Khan Hospital or alternatively to the Provincial hospital but it might take longer
before you get the results and sometimes results get lost. Therefore, my preference is Agha Khan” “How much do
you think might be the cost? I asked back. As he removed his gloves, washed his hands he sat down and said,
“Rounded off, it could be six thousands, not less I guess but it can be higher, things keep changing appreciatively.
That was impossible for me; I did not have that kind of money and I told him. He remained silent for some seconds
then said, “I will keep it in Formalin to preserve it while you look for money, is that possible? He said and smiled.
“How long can it keep there? I wanted to know. “Two weeks at the most but no more lest you do not get the right
results” He had bandaged the toe and asked me to come back for dressing every alternative day until the wound
healed. “How old are you Victor? He asked deviating from the issue that we had been discussing. “I am thirty-nine
years old” I answered him back. “Are you sure? You do not look that age though”. “That is what it is though not only
you has said that I do not look my age, I guess I look younger supposedly because of my lifestyle, everything in
moderation” I said proudly. It was time to leave, as I got up he said, “Have you ever taken HIV test? He did not wait
for my answer but continued, “As a routine test it would help you give yourself a clean bill of health”. “No, I have not
but I will, may be some other time” I answered.
I went to pay for the services and drugs. He had written the cost on the top left side on my prescription note. The
cost was four hundred shillings. It was not just fair but it was cheap. I had asked at the District Hospital and the
clinical officer had said one thousand and five hundred shillings. All along I heard rumors that services at Matangwe
were prohibitively high, but why this cheap? May be the rumors were from people who wanted to tarnish the name
of the facility. Even before I left, I had made up my mind that any future medical attention for anyone in my
household would be sought at the facility. The staffs were all nice and especially after Grace had said that, I was her
tenant and brother they all wanted me to stay longer. I knew that I had found a people according to my heart. I
went to the extent of asking Grace that should there be any vacancy for grounds man she should inform me. When I
went for the dressing, both the doctor and I were surprised. The wound had partially healed and there was no need
for further dressing. I was happy too and Fred said, “Victor I do not think there is any cause for alarm now, it may
have been a wart” I resumed my routine hustling. The crops had failed and both my wife and I had to work hard to
put food on our table. We woke up as early as 4.00am and started on the doughnuts. During the day and specifically
on market days I would go to the cattle sale market to sell juice. The businessmen and a score of businesswomen
who did business there liked the juice and showed me the different markets that they went to. While I went far off
after the markets, my wife did the same in Bondo. In the evenings, we would pool the money and see how much we
had made as profit. It was hectic but we were managing. All the children were in school and were doing well.
Occasionally I would get plumbing work and my wife would be by herself. Whatever the circumstances and however
far I went I would go to collect her from the market in the evening. Comparatively, we were the happiest in the
neighborhood we lived in.
I had succeeded in one thing; detaching myself from the cultural rites that enslaved many. We did almost everything
together and it was predictable that if I were not with Michael then I would be with my wife. I had contemplated
going for the test several times but I did not go. To me and then, HIV was conspicuous and could be seen miles off.
HIV+ person had to look thin and emancipated. I had attended a funeral at my mother’s village of one of her distant
cousins and we could not see the deceased. He was wrapped in polythene paper and was hurriedly buried. On my
way back with a group of my uncles, they started talking about the deceased. “He was such a serial womanizer that
he could not fail getting the great one”. I knew they were talking about HIV and the more they talked about it the
more they revealed their level of stigmatization and discrimination. I asked them, “Uncle what about his wife, who
will inherit her, according to your customs? “A point of correction not ‘your’ but ‘our’ customs they are binding on
everyone including you nephew” said one of them. I retorted out fiercely, “my life is governed by principles not
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ideologies nor obsolete rites that honors the dead. That is my position and it shall remain so ever and ever amen” I
said. I did not know that they were setting stage to attack me from. “You are lying to us, we are adults some of us
older than you and we are waiting to see how far you go with your way of life” said one of them and even before he
finished another had started to say, “Cankers! You are not truthful and I know you are obeying those customs. Why
have you not built your mother another hut? Because you know, the customs are paramount. We are waiting till it
starts leaking and you will see how important it is for your mother to be inherited”. I did not want further arguments
and I mounted my bicycle. That night during our family worship, we talked about building mom another house as fast
as possible. This was the right time to do it; the time they thought, I was hesitant because of the unknown. We had
some little amount of money and through added effort we were able to put up an iron sheet roofed house in place of
grass thatched one. One sister in our church saw how hard we were striving to do it and gave us sixteen roofing
sheets. When I started looking for a craftsman to put up the house, my uncles thought I go to them to ask if either of
them could conduct their ritualistic things. I did not bother them. It was a shocker and since then none has ever
talked to me about what traditions require.
I had not forgotten what I was told by the clinician that to take a HIV test was a means of giving oneself a clean bill of
health. I had no hint that I had been infected. I had made friends enough with the staff at Matangwe and had gained
some courage. Those days knowledge about HIVs transmission and progression was little indeed. The mention of it
made heads turn because it was considered a disease of the most amorous persons. The day I went for the test I
asked one of my religious ministers to accompany me. In the bottom of my heart resided that conviction that I was
free of HIV. I met the young man who had at one time suggested the test for me. I remember with gratitude how
they stood as a pillar for me at that time. Then, the doctor did the pre-test counseling and sent me to the lab. It was a
wait of twenty minutes and the result was given back to him. The tone of his voice as he gave the results still rings in
my head to date. He said, “Victor we used two kits to test your blood sample. I want to explain it to you in very simple
way so that you can understand better. The first kit queries if there is any virus in your blood while the second
specifically shows what virus it is. You have come at the right time; you will be able to live longer. Your results
confirm that you are HIV+” He went silent abruptly and let the information sink in. I saw darkness in broad day light.
It was as if I was caught up in a whirlwind. For several minutes, he remained silent and so did I. However, I could still
hear with my brain’s ear his last words resonating: you are HIV+! Among the ways he said that the virus is
transmitted, the most probable mode in my case was sexual contact. As I travelled back into history the voice of the
woman at the beach came back to me, “That girl Pauline has a wicked chest and if you continue with the relation you
might die” Yes I was dead! What would I do? How would I face my wife? Had I infected her too? What would happen
to our children? It was the end of the road for me. His voice drew me back to the present. “Many people have been
thinking that to test positive condemns them to death. That is untrue. Being positive opens a new chapter in your life
absolutely. I can assure you that you can outlive many who are free of it and another assurance is that your HIV
status remains a secret known to only a few of your care givers. Unlike other illness, HIV has no major restrictive
measures. Pending another test that determines how far it has damaged your immune system, you are going to be
put on some medication for prophylaxis. That test is done in Kisumu at the Provincial hospital and at Port Florence
Hospital. You should do it sooner to enable us manage your condition best and you will be attending clinic once every
month for review. Do you have any question for me? I was looking at him and I was not seeing him, my ears remained
open to take in what he said whilst my eyes travelled far into the future. My brain saw my son herding cattle at the
hands of uncles while my daughters were split to serve in other people’s houses as house helps. Pathetic; what I had
myself into? He had asked if I had any question. “Doctor is possible to pinpoint exactly when one is to die of it? “Of
what? HIV? Push back to the periphery the issue of death! We are talking about life and how to live not when to die.
To protect yourself against re-infection from now on you have two options. You either have to abstain or you use
protection every time you have sex. It would be better if you brought your wife too for the test. The medicines for
prophylaxis are available free and condoms too at any health care point. After writing my next appointment date for
me on a card and a pleasant sendoff, I went to the pharmacy.
I left the hospital a dead man in my world. That day, I did not disclose to the elder who accompanied me. The ride
back to Bondo was the hardest for him because he was older. I did not know whether I was going back to the house
or somewhere else. Only one thing was certain I could not take my own life, life is sacred, a gift from God to take it
would be worse than anything. After we parted, I did a lot of riding. I went home but I did not tell my mother. I went
to my maternal uncles’ home but I told no one. I wanted to exhaust myself before I went to the house and the best I
could do was remain riding without any specific destination. That was the worst day of my life then. It was as if death
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was staring at me from within. I thought it was only a short while and I would be gone. In the midst of my many
worries and thoughts was the idea of going to the beach and look for Pauline. I imagined strangling her to death; no
that would be murder! In addition, it would not get me free from the clutches of HIV. In spite of all the assurances, I
felt emptiness, my dreams had crumbled, my world turned upside down. I was seeing HIV all over me and my demise
on the horizon. What was ahead was weightier than what remained behind me. I felt like I had been pummeled by
many men. The day dragged with the diminishing hope I had. However, I summed up, if my strength failed me now I
would not be able to stand before my wife. She could not beat me up but it reminded me of once she did not iron a
shirt I wanted to wear and I had called her ‘Monkey’. She could not stop sobbing through the day and the night. It got
to my nerves as she talked to herself sobbing. “What is a monkey doing in man’s habitat? You would think I had
beaten her up.
That night I went to bed but I could not go to sleep. Well past midnight, I had not fallen asleep. She was observing my
peculiar behavior. At around 2.00am she rose up and lighted a lamp. I thought she wanted to start on our usual
retinue. She went out and came back. Instead of coming to bed, she sat on a stool beside the bed and said, “Daddy,
what is eating you up? You are disturbed by I-do-not-know-what, and you cannot go to sleep. You keep turning and
you hardly ate last evening what is it? She asked. “Nothing.” I replied. “Tell me the ‘nothing’ please. There was no
way I could deny that I was troubled. Rather a problem shared is half solved, I thought. “If you knew what was
troubling me you would want to drive a nail into my head, kindly just wait when it is due, I will let you know.” “It is
due now and here, and if you are not telling me, I am going to wake up all the children from their room, and we are
going to help you take that holy vigil of yours.” I thought twice, perhaps this was the best time. The proverbial iron
was still hot. I got up and said, “I went to Matangwe hospital for HIV test and I tested positive.” I talked no further but
I waited for her to start on me. The silence that ensued was tense that you could hear a pin drop. Against that silence,
I could hear the beating of my heart. Finally, she talked, “You doubt the credibility of the test? You have killed both us
and perhaps the children too. Where did you catch the bug from? I do not know how I had expected that question
would arise and here it was. What would I say? I said, “I know I have brought calamity to us by poisoning the drinking
water from the source. I have lost my battle in life. However, in reality, it was not by choice and that is why I am
talking to you about it. I would have remained silent but I cannot do so while I see what is looming in the near future
for us”. She said, “The moment you mentioned Paul-shit I guessed something bad would follow and today here we
are with no vestige of hope for a longer life. I am not angry with you but I regret your downfall. You will live with it
the whole time knowing that you loved me to the extent of infecting me with HIV. I do not want to foment further
and destroy our house. Remember, whatever a man sows that he will reap. Can we go to sleep now? Moreover,
tomorrow you will take me to the hospital for test too.
We did not go to the hospital the next day. For one week, I kept to our tasks without letup. The mental anguish I had
could be seen on the way I did things. How fast I rode my bicycle, how I interacted with people changed drastically.
My prayer for that whole week failed; I prayed that she tests negative. If you want to know, the will and strength of
an individual subject them to a test of a disease whose cure is not in sight. The day I took her to the hospital, I knew I
was married to a strong willed woman who could sit astride any condition without fear. In my work with the HIV+
people, I have never seen anyone who takes her or his results with the calmness my wife had. The questions she
asked the clinician infused in me some strength. As she prodded deep into the matter I felt relief. The doubts that I
had, faded one after another as she got the answers to her questions. We left happier and decided. As we rode back
she said, “Are you still angry with yourself? I denied that I had been angry with myself. She laughed and said, “Do you
know that I know you more than anyone else? The way you rode the bicycle, negotiated corners and cursed
whenever other riders did not give way to you, gave your spirit out. We have our lives in our hands now, can prolong
it or shorten it. I am sorry for you and I want you to support me accept whatever the condition has brought to us. We
remain at the behest of science and its successes. You are aware where you caught it from, if it is through sexual
contact at least you did not catch it from an animal”. I would have thought that way too but why did I not?
A monument of perpetual truce had been raised between us. We knew without being encouraged that the best way
of protection against reinfection is abstinence. I have never known love greater than doing your level best to protect
your partner. It brings peace that you have support from each other. However, it is not ‘one size fits all’, what works
better for me may not be applicable to other couples. We have managed perfectly well and the time we have for one
another is adequately wholesome. It was still the hush period and we did not disclose to anyone for some time. I did
not know that my bosom friend had also tested positive and was accessing care at Bondo. The feeling that HIV was all
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over me did not go away easily. I was seeking a way to get myself out of it. I knew people had variable opinions about
being HIV+, It was not easy to tell anyone. I imagined what kind of labels would be stuck on me and the cloud of
uncertainty descended. I picked on a friend who seemed stable in employment and marriage. I thought, “Perhaps I
may need him when eventually HIV/AIDS fells me” I went to his house and disclosed to my status. I knew that by all
standards he knew me and would not label me immoral. He told his wife, who later came to my wife with the
information. I was safe my wife knew it earlier and shared my status but I felt betrayed. This betrayal made me angry.
Michael had gone a step further and had done the other test that I still postponed because of money. When he came
to my house, I wanted to tell him that I had been betrayed by a close person. We had done several things together
and I had held my status secret from him because I did not want him to despair. He also had left me out of his
because of the same reason. We shared the same status! It was unbelievable; close friends! Then we knew we found
pillars for one another. My landlady who had on countless occasions tested negative suddenly became positive. The
three of us made a formidable force. As we tapped from her the health advice she gave, in return she found people
to lean on. To do a CD4 test then required one thousand five hundred shillings, an amount that was beyond the
acquisition of common provincials. Mike had since, transferred to Matangwe and we were always booked on the
same date. At the clinic, each visit we would find smiling faces and the nurse Grace. Time had elapsed fast and it was
two years. Whenever we went to the clinic, we noticed that the folders in which attendance sheets were kept was
not in order. Sometimes an individual folder would not be found. I had in my life worked in an office and I knew how
important it was to keep records and so was Mike. We knew people though did not want to associate themselves
with HIV. The cost of CD4 test had made the program sponsors, CDC purchase machines for the same. Because of
their price, they could afford to put them at the District Hospitals. When we asked Grace if we could voluntarily come
on certain days to help sort out the visit forms, she told us to wait for permission from the clinical officer given the
sensitiveness of medical records. On the other hand, CDC required two people to train on sample transport. The
nurse Grace recommended both Michael and I for the training. I may refer to CDC many times in my writing because
it thrust me into the battlefront against HIV/AIDS. That first training afforded us the required reason to touch the
records belonging to other patients. Help had come and the poor who could for not afford the cost, now had access
to free CD4 test and not only that but also complete blood count. Michael and I were going to transport the samples
from Matangwe to Bondo District Hospital for analysis.
I may not do much justice to my reader if I fail to touch on the history of HIV/AIDS despite the more he may know
about the fact. This is not an authority of preferences but the testimony of a man who is HIV+ and has been on the
receiving end of services, care, and even employment from the HIV programs. A renowned psychotherapist Michael
Shernoff, in his article, ‘A History of Hope: HIV Rollercoaster’, said ‘hope is essential to create meaning in life, but it is
especially crucial in the depths of a scourge like HIV’. On this premise, scientists have not put away their lab coats,
due to the eluding nature of the virus. Whenever they think they have conquered it, it changes its nature against the
developed drugs in order to survive. The concerted effort to develop a vaccine to protect people from infection or
even cure the infected continues full throttle. We would ideally gauge ourselves in this conquer-win cycle whirlwind.
Humanity would love to move closer to cure as one clinician once told me that ‘Alluvia are something next to cure’.
However, all the promising results for cure drug or vaccine is encouraging given that millions on the globe are victims
of this scourge. Since its discovery in 1984, the US Health and Human services Secretary Margret Heckler predicted ‘a
brief HIV epidemic followed by vaccine and cure drug to reverse the epidemic. Whoever received Hecklers optism
look forward to this ray of hope. Its ‘coming out of the closet in a different coat mostly damps the travail towards
prevention and defeat.
It is my profound belief that by 1981 when the sign of a condition that was suppressing the immune system was
diagnosed in the US, scientists began burning the midnight oil. It was dragging its victims from level to level with the
prospect of assured eventual death. Significantly, the rising incidence of opportunistic pneumonia made medics turn
to the only available drug that this type of pneumonia could respond to, Pentamidine. Treatment was essentially trial
and error and this contributed to massive damping of hope for both the caregiver and the patient. The vague picture
of HIV/AIDS treatment remained a rollercoaster as Shernoff said. ‘Pinning down the arms’ of the virus seemed to
have occurred in 1986 at a Paris Aids Conference. A researcher at the American National Institute of Health (NIH)
gave the preliminary findings of success with AZT (zidovudine) including laboratory experiments of Zalcitabine (ddC)
and Didanosine (ddl), and with delight declared to the delegates, ‘I believe Aids is curable’. This would have been
easily achievable if the virus needed a mate to multiply, but it is a retrovirus, using the host’s mechanism of the DNA
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to multiply. In essence the body assembles its enemy that brings down its defenses. So to speak, being a retrovirus, it
is extremely difficult to wipe off. It is noteworthy that the ancestors of the family of the antiretroviral formed what
we technically refer to as Nucleoside Reverse Transcriptase Inhibitors (NRTIs). For approximately five years from
1986-1990, the aforementioned stood tall as combatants against HIV virus. However on their ranks popped up other
drugs drawing acceptance and following thus showing more glimmer of hope. The heat of the battle heightened in
1994 when an initial cautious research on a new class of drugs was published. The new entrants blocked replication
by stopping the virus from assembling proteins for new viruses. These came to be known as Protease Inhibitors (PIs).
The inclusion of these drugs in the treatment rushedly led to the virus coming out with resistance barely a year later,
1995. Scientists however had hence added broad knowledge about the virus and the subsequent progression of the
disease.
The battle line was not in where we would be in 10, 8, or 5 years but here at the front door. Late January 1996, in
Washington, researcher Emilio Emini of Merck Research Laboratories presented an overview of several clinical
studies describing the efficacy of a combined force of Protease Inhibitors and other classes of antiretrovirals. The
delegates at the conference watched with awe at Emini’s slides showing the downward steady reduction of HIV virus
level in the blood of patients using the novel combined therapy. To the delegates he gave the example of a patient
who had taken Merck’s Medical Elixir and had no detectable HIV virus in the blood for nearly 24 months. The goal
posts had been shifted; bring down the viral load as low as possible in as many people as possible. The achievement
of the combined therapy was clear; hence the birth of combined therapy. The success of these HAART (Highly Active
Anti-Retroviral Therapy) brought jubilation to the delegates at Vancouver Aids Conference in 1996 when the mass
recovery of the deathbed patients around the globe was announced. On its heel was the recent viral load test that
enabled the caregivers to measure the number of viruses in an individual’s blood. It was a magical change of guards;
as the viral load plummeted, the CD4 skyrocketed showing a remarkably restored immune system. Fear of defeat was
allayed while the shield of conquer went up. Accelerated by the successes, tens of thousands of Europeans and North
Americans started to give HAART though it was not easy to take nor to prescribe.
The International Aids Community conference in Geneva in 1998, received the overall global results indicating falling
death rates of Aids patients. The battle seemed to be reaching its end, and in this excitement, some research
Organizations cut down their funding on HIV research viewing the epidemic to have been conquered. Even though
the HIV level became undetectable in the blood, a declaration of cure could not be made because HIV still existed in
other body reservoirs. Eradication of HIV moved into the future elusively leaving only hope and the base knowledge
that already existed. In their hideout in the body reservoirs, HIV kept on mutating (changing) defying the improved
therapy. Scientists; Dr. Robert Siliciano of John Hopkins School and his counterpart Dr. Steven Wollinsky of
Northwestern University (USA), searched for the virus in the sample of blood from the ‘seemingly cured’ patients on
HAART regimen at different points of their long-term therapy. Findings? Very consistent. The hiding HIV continued to
mutate in the backdrop of the assailed successful treatment and whence the HAART level fell for any reason they
would resurface, multiplying spirally, making millions of copies that would push back the patient to bed. To pre-empt
going to where one started prudence and facts dictate that HAART level should not fall for any reason in an
individual’s blood. This implies the taking of HAART cocktails opting to live with their proven toxicity for decades.
As a recipient of HAART, I am happy that the degree of HIV’s intensity has been culled down, on the other hand
carrying with me the wide range of HAART side effects. The proverbial 'carrying of one’s cross' is what it is all about
taking HAART. In my life at a Patient Support Center, I have met many with some unsightly side effects including the
re-distribution of fat that might raise cholesterol levels exposing the same clients to other health risks. At the bench
of stubborn diseases, Cancer has garlanded HIV/AIDS and eased himself for him to sit. Together with other diseases,
they lift up their hands shouting their stubbornness against our hope. We have been looking at it from the global
perspective, let us slim it down to, region, country, province, district, location and finally to village and you find me
here.
My country had been fragmented into sections where research organizations conducted HIV/AIDS care alongside
their continued research for cure. While from the global front, successes were weighed against failures, in the third
world, strategies were being put to up the fight. I may not be able to know why and how each and every organization
reached certain goals and decisions. Few African countries had come out and announced the scourge a national
disaster. Our neighbor, Uganda was matching ahead in gigantic steps and would provide a benchmark for us. What
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were known there as posttest clubs were copy pasted here as support groups. Due to the many ethnic groups,
governed by different cultures and traditions, varied approaches had to be used by different organizations to reach
the achievable goals. In Uganda, HIV/AIDS was renamed slim. It was two years since I had tested and my insatiable
zest for knowledge about HIV left me stronger. Michael and I attended another workshop organized by CDC. From
the workshop we came back more empowered and started to volunteer at Matangwe once a week apart from the
day we transported blood samples. HIV had shoved me into the hands of an organization that was doing research
worldwide. From the recent workshop we had attended the, one of the facilitators presented a topic on ‘socioeconomic impact of HIV’. When he gave us the prevalence rates nationally, provincially and by district I was shocked.
While the national prevalence stood at 7.1%, our province Nyanza was 14.3%, double the national prevalence
percentage. My district Bondo had between 20%-23% of its populace infected, and even though only 61% of the
people had been tested, chances of higher percentage would not be ruled out.
My fears had died down for I knew that with HAART a person could have a remarkably prolonged life. What lay
people knew was different from the facts available. Out in the villages’ people knew that once you tested positive you
had left very short time to live. One of the strategies was creating awareness. Most media houses were running daily
awareness campaigns and with it advocating for behavior change, precisely risky sexual behaviors. We had been
trained to train others. I have been a clerk but I only enjoyed the salary, even though I was passionate about that
position. I had also sold insurance policies and it was for the same purpose, money. Even when I worked with the
carton manufacturer, it burned down to the same purpose. However, my work as a peer educator initially I was paid
nothing. I found fulfillment in the will to help others who had just tested to come to terms with their condition. Both
Michael and I knew that we did not choose to have HIV; hence, we knew the best was to go public about our
statuses. If we got infected through sexual from sexual contact, then we were also potential infectors! Then, one of
the testing strategies used was diagnostic testing and counseling (DTC). If a clinician suspected the condition of his
patient was suggestive of HIV infection, he was sent to the lab for test. Once the results were out and were positive
then, he or she was passed on to us. This strategy was far different from the Voluntary counseling and testing (VCT). I
hope you note the shifting of the elements of counseling and testing. In the former rarely did the patient see his own
results. However, the latter prepared the client before and after test. By large it was most successful because a
patient or client was shown how to read his own results. By reading it, himself or herself made them own the result
and accept to access care easily. On the other hand, we cannot explicitly say that DTC did not achieve more than its
goal because it depended on how the client was handled after the test.
Nearly each healthcare point had what was known originally as comprehensive care clinic (CCC). The name is not
defunct but most preferred presently is patient support center (PSC). In my area then, the service provider was CDC
in partnership with the Ministry of Health. It provided all the stationary and medicine to those who were enrolled.
The creation of this department came with demand for staffing. The mother government hand, Ministry of health
was already short of staff. It meant that where necessary, not only medicine and stationery were supplied but also
clinical officers, laboratory staff and pharmacists. The volume of every CCC enrolment was swelling day after day. One
thing that I will remain passionate about the retired President Daniel Arap Moi is his candour. He stands my hero for
declaring HIV/AIDS a national disaster. This would enable the international community to lend a hand. Just a few
years before HAART was for sale and many would not afford the price. When it was made available free what now
remained was how to achieve maximum uptake. I have other heroes and heroines who were victims who did not hide
behind a veil, notably lady Asunta Wagura, Elsa Ouko and many others. Their courage to stand out before cameras, at
international and regional conferences and to disclose their statuses was a stitch in time. Whether the likes of them
needed some kind of training to do, the same should not be a matter of question. HIV/AIDS had cut across social
strata, regardless of age, religion, ethnic group or education. Movements that had been fledgling few years before
picked momentum. It was on radio, in the dailies and virtually everywhere. There was no denying that some
particular issues needed defining clearly and in the simplest terms for the huge illiterate or semi-literate mass at the
provincials. I salute my peers male and female who demystified the HIV/AIDS scourge. If so and so could disclose his
or her status what about me, did I have the courage? There were already footprints to follow. The all cover approach
was being segmented to particular needs. Programs for the youth, discordant couples and others became more
refined. From the many workshops I attended, I met many people of different ages from the many care-giving
centers. A scourge had made us become one big family and we compared note on the developments so far. One lady
Nancy recounted how she had been in deathbed and her people had given hope on her. HAART worked, from CD4 of
three to over five hundred in a period less than two years was encouraging indeed! Other ladies who I never fail to
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mention were the CDCs Community Activities Coordinators, Madam Beryl and Risper Otieno. Any Peer Educator, who
stands out today to teach others about HIV/AIDS, must have passed through their hands or the hands of their
predecessor Madam Damaris. With zest and finesse, they made us achieve a panache that was astounding. They had
their hearts in the work and knew who exactly needed training at what time. All these trainings were two-forked, to
benefit the trainee and the community. They sought able facilitators for the trainings to handle various topics. Each
participant was empowered. Can we now talk about myself now for a few minutes?
One evening I received a phone call from Risper. It was a Friday and I had had a very busy day. From 4.00a.m, my wife
and I were at our usual Mandazi baking, after which I went to Matangwe to collect blood samples to be taken to
District Hospital. On returning to my house, I simply changed and left for juice selling. On such particular days, we
would really be exhausted. “Victor you are to check in at Switel Hotel on Sunday evening for a five-day residential
training” she said on phone after the usual salutations. “What about Michael? I asked. “He will attend another one
later,” she said and the line went dead. This kind of training would have some effects on my household. That meant
my wife had to remain on her own with the children. I could miss the training all the same, after all, it compromised
some of my basic requirements. I had to talk to my wife about it though. I was surprised at the way she viewed it.
“Daddy that kind of training you cannot miss, you have to go, nothing will harm us and if something comes up we can
always call you,” she said. All the other trainings we had attended were nonresidential and because there was
transport reimbursement, we liked that arrangement. After this training, I got unexpected employment. I was to
trace defaulters. What an added opportunity to serve others and be paid at last. Defaulter tracing is a very interesting
job. Can you accompany me on a one-week defaulter tracing?
We start on Monday in the morning at normal working hours. At the clinic, we do some cleaning first and make
working areas clean. We now settle down to generate defaulters. Where do we look? We check the diary first. We
get the file numbers and names of the defaulters. We then update the defaulters register, retrieve the files from the
cabinets to get more information on each client. This might take the whole day because we map out how we are
going to trace our defaulters. I prefer that we make proper analysis of the defaulters. Are they male or female,
married? Whom did they give as treatment supporter? Have they disclosed to anyone? and, who if they have. We
may also need additional information like do they have a cell phone or any other contact. Sometimes we have to
check Pre-ART register for additional information. We are to visit at least five if there are many defaulters. Finally, we
fill tracer forms and file them. This week we have only thirteen defaulters, eleven adults and two children. Of the
adults, three are males and eight females. Only two females have disclosed their statuses to more than one person.
We want to start our tracing tomorrow on Tuesday. Therefore, the next day we get our bicycles ready and start with
the most farther. With us, we have notebooks and pens and essentially some teaching aid material. The client we
choose to trace first is seventeen kilometers away, one way. You will let me talk while you observe. She is married
and has disclosed to her spouse, do not forget we know the husbands name though I have never met him. Because
we use the family name, we find the home easily. The client has gone to the pond to fetch water and the husband is
out; no big deal. While we wait for her, we try very much to stop the mother-in-law from asking questions about
where and what have we come for. You have to know what interests an old woman like her, weather change,
planting season and such like. We have gone into another district Rarieda. To keep the old woman at bay I talk about
politics and what she thinks of her area and good governance. Eventually our client arrives and we move to her hut.
Oh! I forgot to let you know that I am working for two organizations. The other organization is Population Services
International (PSI). Therefore, my eyes search the house keenly. I am specifically looking for the water container and
because I cannot see it, I ask for drinking water. She moves into the other room and we both hear the water running
into a cup. That same room serves as the bedroom and there is no way we are going to know if she uses mosquito
bed net unless we ask. When she brings the water, she sits down; as I drink the water, I have to be keen to find out if
it is chlorinated. She passes that test, the water has chlorine. We have two issues pending, the mosquito bed net and
the missed appointment. “Jane how is you and your husband doing? Anyone having malaria lately? I ask. “We are fine
except my son who is gone to school now is running fever” she offers. “Do you sleep under mosquito bed net? “Yes
we do”. “How do I make sure? I ask. “You can have a look at my bed” I am done with PSI and I have to embark on our
main purpose for the visit. Kindly bear with me, we do not pull out our notebooks, lest somebody finds us writing,
which will result in many questions after we are gone. We memorize everything. “We noted that you missed your
appointment last Tuesday, why did you miss please? Before she gives her reason, she asks a question. “Did you tell
my mother-in-law your purpose for the visit?” “Do not bother; we are trained to confine your secrets within the
allowable boundaries, I did not tell her”. With a sigh of relief, she says that she lost her appointment card and was
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afraid to come without it. That means she has to be told the importance of keeping appointments and that whenever
a card is lost the same can be replaced. I ask if she has, medication and she say she has few left. “Can you come
tomorrow?” I finally ask as I get up. “Yes I will come.” She answers.
Our visit is successful and we can write a report. Remember we have tracer forms and once we are out of the home,
we write her reason for missed appointment, the discussion we had and the agreement reached. I chose to take you
with me because it was one of the memorable days in my tracing life. The next person we are supposed to visit is not
many kilometers away from the first home but we cannot ask that client the way lest we compromise confidentiality
of either client. Off we go and after about twenty minutes, we come to our second home. This one is also female but
has not disclosed her status to anyone. I have to be extra careful. We find a young man under a mango tree. We
request for the water and he goes into the house to fetch. He comes with the water and I do little introduction. “My
name is Victor, what about you? I ask as I take the water from his hands. “My name is Onyango” he replies. The name
that the woman gave as her husband’s name is different so may be this one is a brother-in-law, I thought. Mr.
Onyango, I assume Caren Owino, comes from this home, can I see her? I notice a sudden twitch on his face, and as he
walks back to the house, he says, “Wife stealers wait for me I want to teach you a lesson”. That is cue for me to run
for my life. As he comes out of the house with a sharp machete, I am already mounting my bicycle and I ride away as
mad Jehu. I ride for about ten minutes without looking back. It is now time to look back and see if he chose to pursue
me. While I brake slowly looking behind keenly, accidentally my bicycle hits a boulder and I fall down. Even though I
was not hurt very much but it was the worst visit. In the village people, know one another many miles far off. I decide
to find out from some woman who is tethering goats in a bush near the dirt road. “Mama can you employ me to look
after your goats? I joke as I move close to her. “No my son I cannot employ you, good morning”. “Good morning
mama”. I ask about the home I have been chased from and she says she knows everybody there. “What do you think
is wrong with Onyango? He chased me with a machete when I went to ask for drinking water.” “Perhaps he thinks
you are one of the people who took his wife Caren away. Did he throw anything at you? He is a hunter and shoots
very sharply, I guess if he would have come out with a spear you would be dead now” She answered me. Her
statement had all the information I needed. The client had separated from her husband and I would have to use
other means to find her wherever she was; some other day. The husband I would sort out later. I am overawed that
women like Caren move from one husband to another like insects cross-pollinating flowers, leaving behind them a
long line of infected people. It is pathetic because they pick different strains and leave others too.
Our next client is male. He is eighty years old and is a widower. He has two married sons and as I enter the home, I
notice abject poverty. The grass thatched houses are in bad shape and unattended. The old man is sitting in a shade
out the house. He can neither read nor write, but we have a lively chat. I did not go directly to my purpose for the
visit but engaged him in village pep talk for some time. I listened with empathy as he talked about how his sons have
become drunkards and have neglected him. I knew that I would have ended like his sons had I not strived hard.
However, when I finally brought to his attention that he missed his appointment he confessed forgetting. He was a
lively old man and accepted to come the next day. He has remained on the defaulters register to date; has to be
reminded always. I leave for my fourth home visit, female and single living with her widowed mother. I found that the
expertise I had gained as an insurance agent came in handy sometimes. I knew how to break the ground and
maintained a gentleman’s demeanor. When I came to their house, her mother receives me. “I have come to eat
chicken because I will be bringing cows soon for your daughter, how are you mama? “Come in my son such a
distinguished guest cannot remain standing out. I went in and she prayed after which she greeted me formally and
sat down. This kind of visits made you forget that you had ran from a machete-wielding man. My eyes had found
what I could start with. On a stool in a corner rested the water container that is issued by PSI. “Mama I work with the
organization that issues these containers and I have come to check if the one we gave to your daughter is alright” I
said calmly. Her question nearly got me offside. “I hear that these containers are given to people who have AIDS, tell
me my son does my daughter have AIDS? I had to employ tact to protect my client therefore, I had no straight
answer. “Where did you hear that? “In the market place from some old women like me” she said. “As a matter of fact
it is supposed to be so but we jump the ropes sometimes and give people we deem can use them to keep their
drinking water from contamination. I think if your daughter had AIDS, you are the first person she would tell, how did
she tell you she got this one? I asked eventually. “She said she got it from a friend” There you go again, you see, if I
work with an organization do I sever my relatives and friends? I am the friend who gave it to her.” As I concluded my
statement the daughter arrived, she had gone to the posho-mill. I did not want to make her feel uneasy and I said,
“Beatrice, your mother nearly sent me away thinking that the gift we gave you is only given to people who have AIDS.
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Please convince her for me that we sometimes put the interests of our family and friends first.” “I have told her the
same countless times”. The topic was thus closed. Her mother left us alone while she went to prepare some food in
the kitchen. Some facts needed attention in such circumstance. She had to be taught the importance of disclosure
and how to do it gradually. She was soon marrying off and refused that she would rather disclose to the prospective
husband than her mother. The man she was to marry did not know her status and neither did she know his. I could
not ask her if she had met that man sexually, it was obvious that at some point they had sex. Permissiveness rules
over chastity and few people ideally remain chaste until matrimony. They insisted on me having lunch with them.
While her mom prepared food, we talked of many things. She had three brothers, among whom two had died leaving
behind children and wives. Her mother knew that probable cause of her sons’ death was HIV/AIDS. That made it very
hard for her to disclose to her mother, she would start grieving. I tried to probe a bit farther by insinuating that the
prospective husband’s people may hold her culpable for infecting their son, but she said she did not catch the
infection from a dog. I knew I would not reach far, however hard I tried. We ate together and I left. Perhaps I may do
you some justice by clarifying the issue about food as traditionally appertains to my people. You are not to refuse
food even if you are satisfied lest your conduct be misjudged. I hope you have enjoyed our day out in the field! I had
been turned into many things rolled into one. Where necessary you taught family reproductive health, hygiene,
water and sanitation and on some occasion children and women rights activist.
Tomorrow you will not come with me for the reason I am going to tell you. Matangwe Community Health and
Development Program that runs the Matangwe health Center, receives volunteers from Queens University of Canada
annually. At this particular time, two medical students were interested on my work so I decide to take them on
Wednesday. That day I decided to visit the children. It was good that they could not understand my language, so they
did not understand what the woman we visited at the first home said. I decide to edit out most of what she told me.
When a client for some reason thinks that, her medical rights have been flouted, they normally blame the health
caregivers. She broke down on during the process. She had been tested at prenatal health clinic. She had come later
in her last trimester. While she waited for CD4 test results, she gave birth to twins at home and rushed to the hospital
after. Most children are saved from catching the virus during birth if it is conducted by a skilled midwife and that
service is available in healthcare facilities. The ugly part of it is that they choose to come to hospital very late and
sometimes do not come altogether. She was blaming the health workers for the death of one of her twins, but even
the surviving was not in good health either. To some extent, she would have been blamed but we do not do that. She
had two main problems, disclosure and compliance to medication for both her and the baby. Her husband worked
the lake and came home once or twice a month. She did not know whether the husband had tested or not. Life at the
beaches is ‘fish for flesh’ and chances of the husband being positive were high. These type of families needed regular
visits. Even though she had cried most of the time, but when we left she was laughing. My companions were students
but she could not know that, instead she asked me to tell them to give her financial support. I had to find something
to say for they noticed she was talking to them through me. I turned to the two ladies and said, “She is saying she is
very happy for your visit”. Whatever they told me, being sorry of her loss of a child I coined into something else. To
her I said in my language, “They are saying they did not carry any money with them but when they go back home
they will remember you” The matter was closed and she saw us off. I knew I had to expect that kind of thing at the
next home. I encouraged her to honor her appointments wherever she had transferred to. Our next client was a
woman and her child. Their entry point was also antenatal clinic. I was disappointed with her when I asked if she had
been giving her baby the medications. She said that she had, but when I asked her to show me the remaining drugs;
she brought out a container that carried unused drug packs for both her and the child. While the ladies were dotting
on the child I decided to be confrontational. I knew that she had lost another baby before. “Why do you get pregnant
in the first place if you know eventually you will kill the baby?” She retorted by asking me if I knew the labor pains,
“Do I undergo that pain to kill my own child?” my companions were busy with baby to note anything. I kept my voice
as low as possible to sound normal while I chose words that were confrontational. “Listen Jocinter, HIV did not fly
into you like a butterfly, therefore you ought to be responsible and that does not give you the right to pass it to a
baby who does not know HIV itself. Your cycle of birth-death of babies is sickening, and let you be warned that if you
do not take good care of it I will institute legal action against you, understand?” She remained quiet and I knew I had
hit her below the belt. Unfortunately, the baby died later. However, she has remained to date one of our worst
clients. She needs harshness to tow the line. I was done with her and we left. The shape of the baby had lowered my
morale and we closed for the day.
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In essence, that is what tracing involves. That is what I did from day to day. I found happiness whenever I traced
anyone and he resumed care. We traced in all seasons, rainy or dry. CDC made sure this was done. All defaulter
tracers were given raincoats and gumboots. One tracer even joked that next time, CDC would give tracers
motorcycles. I really cherish the programs CDC conducted and truthfully, it is not trumpet blowing that I am doing but
giving credit where it duly belongs. Those who were pronged recipients of their services like me agree that it was a
very good period of HIV/AIDS care.
A round that time an abnormal growth started to appear on my toe again but this time it was growing very rapidly. I
remembered that it happened one time and excision cleared it. The more it grew and stopped me from wearing
closed shoes it began to be wet. My foot started to swell. For a long time I braved the swelling not missing my work
at Matangwe. Eventually I was temporarily grounded. By the month of July that year, 2008 I traced for the first two
weeks and could not get out of the house anymore. My second child had just joined secondary school and the son
had one more year to clear high school. I was overawed, not going to work meant no money and that would
compromise the schooling of my children. Such are the worst times, when one contemplates many things. I had total
peace; I had managed to eke out strength from the personal internal reservoir. I had also made friends everywhere
within the greater Bondo-Rarieda district. It was a unique family, united for same cause, fighting in unison. It is
undeniable fact that many people who could afford had accessed care at various private health facilities where they
paid for the services and the medication. To that, social class what happened down at the grass roots did not matter.
I am not a social welfare expert but I valued what the international community was doing for me, for others and for
posterity. I wish not to elevate any organization over any other but I would be doing disservice if I fail to mention few
of the success of my mother organization, CDC. Their field staff were the most courteous I have ever met. For
example, I could not get out of the house and therefore how would I be able to sign time card to facilitate my pay? It
happened that my immediate supervisor was the Community Activities Coordinator Assistant. I will never forget the
effort she did in finding my house to bring the time card. For the quarter hour, she spent with me I got real
encouragement. Time was on the run and so was HIV/AIDS and there was always a solution at hand for any
circumstance that came up. We arranged to switch positions with Michael yet he handled the two tasks. Beginning
the month of August, Michael became the defaulter tracer and at the same time transported blood samples on my
behalf. That meant I remained on the payroll yet I could not go out for the whole month. Not a day did I miss a phone
call or visit from my peers.
The following month, September, I resumed work despite my swollen leg. Being at the clinic was strengthening than
being anywhere else. I did a CD4 test and when the results came, it was necessary for me to be initiated on HAART.
My initiation on HAART made me able to teach experience not knowledge. Anyone who has never had any drugrelated side effect cannot explain and cannot understand in a full scope how it feels to go through the side effect. Day
by day, I became prolific in handling newly diagnosed and the newly initiated. I started to persuade the existing
clinical officer to excise the growing tumor but he would not accept at the same time he did not tell me why. One day
after my dire persuasion, he gave me valium and after I went to sleep, he simply washed and dressed the toe. For
three days, I remained in the dark thinking that the tumor had been removed. When I asked for the toe to be
dressed, the clinician had no option other than letting me know that he had not cut off the growth. He revisited the
former clinician’s opinion. Pope was a good man willing to discuss anything with anyone. “Victor, you know, any
growth should not be tampered with unless one is sure of its nature. I did not remove the tumor because to me it
looks like it is cancerous and I would be causing more damage than good”. And, for the next two months I continued
the braving the swelling. In mid-November, precisely the thirteenth day, some visitors from Mildmay International
came to Matangwe. They were doing awareness campaigns. Pope asked for the opinion of a doctor who was with
them about the tumor on my toe. He looked at it briefly said, “no doubt this is KS but you will need confirmation after
a biopsy”. Then, I remembered a workshop that I had attended and participant asked a question after the topic on
opportunistic infections. June is such a knowledgeable girl so when KS was left out of the infections we were taught,
not even mentioned she asked the facilitator. “Is KS an opportunistic infection?” The facilitator only said that it is a
defining illness of HIV/AIDS. I had the need for the test then. Since I knew my status, my perspective of how I acted
and viewed any illness had changed. In the old days, I would buy over-the-counter drugs any time I felt sick but now I
would go to the hospital, have necessary tests and the illness would be treated as required. “How much would this
test require? I asked. “Somewhere in the range of five thousands or more at Agha Khan” said he. I did not have that
kind of money saved anywhere how would I have the test done? My two beloved sisters from Canada came to my
rescue. I wish not to mention them because I had not asked for their permission to do the same. They were willing to
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pay for the biopsy, not only paying but would take the sample to Kisumu that day themselves. Pope now had to get
the sample. I wish I had known about the proper method. Two corn-seed size were cut off from the tumor on the toe.
It was a very painful experience indeed. The local anesthesia given on the tumor had no effect.
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