I am now seated in my school’s auditorium where the clearing process for ex-candidates is taking place. Waiting patiently for my dad to arrive at 1500hrs to get me out of there. I stifled a chuckle as I recalled my first year in school.
I recalled my first day as if it occurred the previous day. I woke up at 0700 hrs to prepare to report to the school I had been admitted to after getting an impressive 413 marks in my primary school final exam.
I was rather disappointed that I was not going to my dream school, but one that I felt was a far cry from it. After a lot of ranting and whining for dad to help me out, I finally accepted my fate and smiled. Excited, I packed a few more items into my cheap backpack that would prove its worth later. Apprehension suddenly gripped my as I slipped on my primary school uniform, and found that it was an inch above my knees. I stared a little more into my mum’s full-length mirror, at my shapely legs, tough African hair. I had grown taller; I hoped no one would think of my as a bad or naughty kid for that. I felt like I was chocking. What is high school like?
I bit into my brown slices of bread and sighed. Unlike most of my peers, there was no one to enlighten my on that very important bit. However, deep inside, I looked forward to it.
How could I forget how my hands shook as I brushed my teeth and splashed a huge cloud of toothpaste foam on my sweater, or how I sliced my toenail in a belated attempt to scrap off the stubborn maroon nail polish? No way.
So I made my way to grandma’s to say bye and get a blessing from the proud old lady and came back to help in loading the luggage into my dad’s station wagon.
Mum, all panicky and motherly as always tried a last time to use my light green marker pen to mark my dark green blankets. It did not work. I grabbed my dad’s penknife and used it to engrave my initials on my mint green bucket, wonderful green thing!
Therefore, we left, my heart palpitating, my throat dry. Mum asked again whether I was okay.
“Good!” I lied. I was dying.
I saw many vehicles with mattresses peeking out via the rear window. At least there were a whole lot of kids headed for some unknown scary place to spend a whole four years.
We stopped at my favourite eatery for some brunch before embarking on the long journey. The waiter, after placing a rather large plate of fries before my encouraged my, saying that it would soon be over. Yeah, right.
After we grabbed some pet sodas, we proceeded to my school, which was literally situated in the middle of nowhere. As my parents marvelled at the landscape and healthy maize crop in the adjacent fields, I mused over my fantasies: a pretty girl playing basketball for my school. I smiled and looked forward to it.
We almost drove into Gathukia PC.E.A church thinking it was my high school but finally got the right gate.
“Scarlett, welcome to your new home!” mum exclaimed as dad zoomed via the gate on the concrete towards the office. The fences were excellently manicured.
“Whoa, look at the magnificent classes!” she exclaimed.
They sure were, amazing storey buildings along which girls like myself strode confidently, laughing and having the time of their life. They looked so good in their black half sweaters and knee-length A-line plaid skirts. I could hardly wait to get mine.
I did not find anything impressive about our parents from as far as Mombassa and Nyeri sitting in the sun waiting after such long tiring journeys. Even worse was the fatigue-ridden insolent secretary at the principal’s office. I also recall my futile attempts to find a canteen. I got lost at the teachers’ quarters, twice, tired and hungry. I knew I was done for.
I decided to be a little bit more talkative, and made a friend called Frieda. We held hands everywhere. Mum was especially put off by the way I neglected my stuff to go and talk to her, but hello! What are you there for? Please watch my things! This will save me so much stress when you leave! I clearly recall those weird snacks she gave me… don’t you ever tell her I said they tasted like cat-food.
Soon it was 1300hrs: lunchtime. The pathetic food they served us? (Look who is talking) I did not even taste it. There was not even enough for all of us.
We idlers chatted about nothing in particular until mum saw it fit to leave. I did not even feel the pinch; I already had acquaintances to take away the pain. Anyhow, she left, left me in the hands of those predators.
Finally, we were assembled in the field where the Principal welcomed us warmly and wished us a fruitful stay. In the course of her speech, my new ‘acquaintances’ were playing and pinching each other as in the way the senior girls would, and leaving me out. It eventually hit me that I was in a crowded impersonal city, here is a mob of people yet I know absolutely no one! Yet, I was so engrossed in the conversations with these very girls that I did not give mum a hearty bye hug! Ouch. I guess these girls must have met before.
That was day 1, 4th February 2010.
My desk mate was a cheerful bright girl with a heart-shaped face called Mary. I was not as noisy though, so she blended perfectly with Frieda. They talked and laughed about their elder brothers, experiences and friends as I sat and listened, amazed.
What did I have to say about my life in the wilderness to these elites from the city? That my hobby was riding my uncle’s best friend’s bike, emphasizing that it is the ‘big one’ to try and impress them? Or our dirt road antics with my cousins who are four years younger than I am? How my B.F.F and I hang out in the shamba crunching unripe mangoes as they spoke about The Mall? Naah, those were my skeletons, which I preferred to keep hidden.
The best experiences in 2010?
I tried my luck with the music festival choir. Practice sessions were rigorous but amazing. I loved listening to us sing, as we were definitely going places. I loved choirs since the Cathedral Choir at Nyahururu and I felt quite proud to be part of this one. As usual, we sailed through to the provincial level at Alliance. I recall fantasizing all through the long journey about how I might meet my future hubby there as I listened to the music in the bus.
Holiday times. On the eve of the closing day, our school held a thanksgiving service for a great end of the term. Therein, I danced and sang with excess gusto and due to the strain and exhaustion, slept unknowingly during the sermon. The next day, dad came to pick me up, I boldly declared, with eagerness and so much happiness I almost cried: ‘I am walking away from the troubles in my life…’ inspired by Craig David. From then, I had the time of my life. Until two weeks to the other end of the holiday…
The first term exams, where I surprised myself by clinching third position! A straight A in math and physics. I had always wanted to be a pilot, and I got really encouraged by my dad’s positive comments: that some day I would fly something. Though I felt like it would have been a whole lot better if he said Boeing 747 instead of just ‘something.’ He may well have meant the propeller things my cousins and I loved making when maize stalks dried up in the dry season.
In third term, I was FIRST! I was shocked, and hoped that there was no mistake. When it finally hit me that it was true, I was so elated! My dad bought me ‘Air-force one’ to watch. Typical myself: I watched it almost thrice daily like a medicine prescription, so that I could see the big aeroplane and imagine I was the great terrorist.
In class: Swahili lessons. I was initially horrified when I learnt the principal was going to be our teacher, but I soon learnt that she was not as scary as I thought. She was great though her lesson were ‘let’s get down to business’ type. I was quite happy when I realised that she knew my name by day five. Maybe she liked me! I was active in her class so that I could remain alert.
Biology classes. I remember the first class, where Mr. Biology took us to the Biology lab where he keeps all kinds of scary monsters in formalin as if only to freak out the hapless 104 kids. In class, he just loved to astound me with those mind blowing biological terms such as genetics, proximal convoluted tubule, amoeba and many others. I call him Mr. Biology because he was a walking encyclopaedia, ask him the biological name for any organism on the face of this earth, and he’ll rattle it off with ease.
Entertainment time on Saturday. That was when I learnt of club Kiss and fell in love with it. I also got a once in a lifetime chance to watch and learn the names of various dance moves as portrayed by our obnoxious 404 class. I almost was severely traumatised one Saturday by the obscenities that I got a nightmare.
Worst?
I’ll start with the little negatives.
When I joined high school, I was not prepared psychologically for the fact that there was so much that I had no slight idea about. The girls around me had boyfriends, girlfriends, and Facebook and twitter accounts. As far as I was concerned, the former two were for ill mannered children. I never had the slightest idea what the latter two were or their essence; let alone have one.
I clearly recall the first time I went to use the bathrooms. A petrifying sight, hygiene levels were horribly wanting as the loos reeked of pee and poo. They were also so tiny that one had to take up a funny posture to ensure your bum did not touch the bins. However, mum had warned me of the annoying state of public loos.
The shower rooms were not one bit better; it was a vast room with some curtains. For the first few days, I could not bring myself to relax in those makeshift shower rooms, as the idea of the curtain falling was all so real.
Food-times. Our wonderful school used the table system. The senior students did the serving; that meant starve as those heartless girls felt we had had enough food for the two months that we were home so we 104 kids should ‘have mercy on them’ and let them eat. During the days when we had meat, I had one, ±one pieces, yet when I made my way behind the hall where the dishes were cleaned up, I saw the Miss Hyena in charge eating my meat. I dared not say a word lest I was verbally abused. Those poor things, they could hog on the boiled meat all they want. They should have sampled the juicy steaks my mother whipped up when I got home. She really felt bad every time I stumbled into the house, resembling the skeleton model in Mr. Biology’s office.
Break times. I had nothing much to say so I stuck out like a sore thumb, awfully quiet. I did not mind being quiet, but those around me seemed to, and left me out on their little groups. Slowly I began to get convinced that my social skills were wanting.
I never knew that it was way too old-fashioned to close your blouse up to the very first button if you were not in a tie, or worse, to wear you are your skirt high up above your waist, on my case, my rather big stomach. Not to mention my insistence to wear my oversized sweater in the sweltering afternoon heat. Worst, to pull your socks high up if you are in a long skirt. My wild short hair was impossible to tame. It always rose high up my head like a crown, the rest, I tried tying it up in a hair band as was prescribed by the school rules. The overall result: a clown that everyone, even the teachers, avoided.
What of my coping, grasping and writing skills? A downright no! Every 104 kid did have a few of her things taken, used or even ruined; but trust me, no one suffered as Scarlett did. Everyone had to know that my bucket or slippers had been stolen as it really did hurt. I never knew that it was normal, and what was wrong was to take it personally. Grasping: Do not ask me what I got in math in May. It aint enough to buy me a 300ml soda. My mind had become dormant during the holiday and as second term came calling, it was not ready for elimination and substitution in math. My mom was horrified beyond words when I came home for my April holiday and could not do much in my assignment that entailed a lot of algebra. Simple sums, yet I could not make head or tail from almost any one of those. She wondered, if I am having trouble in 104, what about 304!
My august holiday! My dad was horribly disappointed. My results arrived via mail, I came home from the salon that Friday and found the report form on the table, and my dad seated far way from it as if it gave off some stench. The tears flowed down my pretty face as I came to terms with the truth: I was position 68 out of ninety-*
The comments came in torrents, a wonderful mix of mock encouragement and sincere concern. From position 3 to 68? Was I alive while doing that last exam?
Math lessons. Ever since first term, Mr Mwangi R.M. professor of math had my hair standing as he played around with numbers on the blackboard like chess. I barely got a thing and had to scavenge around on the board when he left to try and go over everything slowly.
He was one scary math genius who did not give a whit about us, slow learners, that is, making a broad assumption that I was not the only one.
Our very first chemistry lessons. I had been warned that that teacher despised 104 kids, but I was not prepared for what was to take place later. He came to our class and banged on the door, sending us scampering for the lab like young goats, wherein, he declared in a low raspy voice and mocking smile that we would be having our lessons...and he would be our teacher! I recall how he once yelled, his half-chewed metre-rule on one girls book, that she had drawn a round-bottomed flask with so long a neck that it resembled a giraffe. We all collapsed with laughter. I was so glad it was not me on the spot. I ran my eyes over my book very quickly, erased my beaker before he saw it, and said it looked like a sufuria and all I was thinking of was home.
Now to the more hurtful bits…
Music festival. The choir was wonderful, but the members were not. The senior girls were put off by the fact that I was chosen over their cronies in the final list. I remembered the way the self-appointed queen bees sneered at my shiny polka dotted face. They tried using every trick in the book to get me evicted but it did not work. I went and did my best. The worst bit came after the performance and I had no idea what to do next. Everyone all of a sudden disappeared and I was left alone. I thought they were in the bus, but when I got there, it was actually locked! I recall how this chap from an unknown school tried to chat me up using all sorts of funny questions, e.g.:
“What is your fieldwork?”
Huh?
I later came to know that he was asking me for my favourite sport!
At least I got to eat some sugary stuff like biscuits.
What about the duty I was assigned? A downright put-off. I was told to scrub my scanty energy out in the very loos I got constipated trying to avoid. I was supposed to have them sparkling in thirty minutes or else I would get locked up in there at 0700hrs. At times, there was no water and the tap at the garage was light years away. You should have seen me with my bucket trying to get enough water for the job. Or when it rained and the mud levels rose up to three inches above the ground in there. The prefect who supervised me always glared at me with red eyes that reminded me of the Kisii bullfights, and had an ominously dark complexion that almost freaked out the teachers too, I guess. I still do not wish the 404’s who sashayed insensitively on my scrubbed floors the best as they made me have to do it all over again.
Cross country time. I had my full games kit on, and the psyche to outrun everyone. However, I was so poor at running that occasionally, I had to stop, crouch over my knees and take in some deep breaths. All who passed by me either awed or laughed at the wheezing sounds I made. How dare they laugh, didn’t they know that I was dying? As usual, I was having irrational thoughts, of me beating Eunice Sum in the 10km race. At least, I always made it back to school alive, and not as the very last. However, the very first cross-country, I was a few paces ahead of the last person, and the two of us were requested to close the gate behind us by the security guard.
The very worst, however was one I recall so vividly that I squirm in my seat. It unfolded during second term, in the sub zero month of July.
In the washing area, 104’s always suffered as the seniors came and took all the taps by storm. This particular night, as tired as I was, was no exception. I sighed when my bucket was removed with impunity whilst barely half full. I was not in the mood for a fight, but someone was.
“Si you have found that bucket there! Let it fill up! Why harass her? You want to make her cry?” she boomed, pointing at my glistening eyes.
The unfair ones hurriedly obeyed the command.
She turned to me as soon as my oppressor was out of sight.
“Hi, uko form one?”
“Hi. Yup!”
“Good night! Tuonane dorm!” she quipped.
“Thanks, by the way!”
I went back to prepare for bed. I stood up to say a prayer to ensure I never fell asleep as I pray and when I opened my eyes, hers were the first I saw. I smiled and jumped into bed. The next evening, I came to the dorm only to find my school shoes beautifully polished shiny. Inside was a note:
‘From your B.F.F.’
B.F.F? Who was that? I never knew anyone who would love me enough to do all that for me in the awful July weather where everyone’s shoes were muddy. I did a good job with my own shoes; was she suggesting that I was not neat enough? Maybe she got the wrong pair of shoes. However, I was still baffled; but the mystery was soon solved. My ‘defender’ from the previous evening walked by and grinned. It was she.
She was in the same house as I was; I guess I had to clear the air about this. I cooked enough courage to ask my school mother, Alicia, more about that tall creepy girl with an athletic figure.
“Why are you asking about her? Has she made a pass at you?”
“I just found my shoes all shiny and a note from her…”
“Kid, you are in trouble, okay? Do not allow this to happen any more.”
“What must I do? Ignore her?”
“I don’t know. Just avoid her. Otherwise, she will ruin your life as she has that of many others.” Alicia warned, rolling her eyes.
I almost gasped. Why would she want a kid like me? I was so naïve I could not even imagine what Alicia was insinuating could happen to me. On the other hand, she did not seem so bad after all! Maybe she was just a typical weirdo.
I thought hiding my shoes was enough. This crazy kid was not taking no for an answer.
One Saturday, she left her gruesome foursome clique to come and sit with me as I glared at the 21” T.V trying to catch a little of what the characters in my favourite soap were saying.
At least she was well dressed. The rest of the gruesome foursome had their blouses tied up at the front instead of tucked in or at least just un-tucked. Their ties were tied up round their heads like they were the 2010 edition of Samurai warriors .
“I can’t believe this school of ours cannot get us a 51 inch T.V. I know they have enough money to spoil us!”
“You are right! I cannot even make a thing of what these guys are saying…” and on we went. I was beginning to get convinced that she was not a bad person. As soon as entertainment time was over, we walked together to the dorm where she said goodnight to me and went to bed. When I went to my bed, Alicia was waiting eagerly for me.
“I thought I told you to avoid this girl. Bennet will destroy you!”
“Won’t you relax? She did not even talk trash all that time! Maybe she has changed! I think all she needs is someone who will not criticise her.”
“Okay… great. All the best with your new friend.”
“Goodnight Alicia, love you!”
Bennet was such great company. She shared with me the rigours of being in 404, how bad she felt that everyone hated her. At least, in second term, I was not so much alone. She borrowed my 104 notes and returned them promptly. She even introduced me to her gruesome foursome, the worst crooks of the school. I honestly did not think anything was wrong until one Saturday when she came to speak to me, the weekend after they had finished their mocks.
“Scarlett darling…” she began, placing her hand to my forehead, and down it began to slither. I was shocked silent.
“…have I told you how much you mean to me?”
“No Bennet, please! Do not do this! Stop!” I was petrified at the dark hue of maroon her face had taken.
That was when I recalled Alicia’s warning and saw a pair of eyes staring at us: the dorm captain’s. I was done for. I hoped that the fact that I pushed her away would get me off the hook, but hey, everyone thought that I was the fifth of the gruesome foursome as I hung out with them all the time.
On Monday, the deputy, after her usual speech and insincere wish to all of us for a nice week, she requested Mary Bennet and Scarlett Price to follow her to her office after assembly.
Everyone in our line, the front one, stared at me as my face instantly took up a pink hue. Murmurs rent the air and I trembled freely. Even worse was when the Principal, during her turn, made spiteful comments about 404’s who intent on misguiding their younger sisters are.
I was still blushing furiously when I went to the office. Behind me was Bennet, so calm that I wondered whether she connived with the deputy to put me through this. Something in her eyes made me want to melt into the ground. I have never been so petrified before. She narrowed her eyes and leaned in.
“So you are the ones who are trying to turn our school into something else?” she begun in a mocking voice. I was so stunned that sweat broke out on my brow. I sincerely hoped that I was not going to be expelled.
“Madam, I sincerely did not mean to do anything wrong. I am sorry but it was she who came to my bed…” I suddenly did not care about her. It was her fault after all!
“Relax Scarlett. Has this girl here told you anything about her past?” the deputy inquired, throwing a fiery glance at a calm Bennet who just rolled her eyes.
“Not at all!”
“Well, I want you to know right now that if you are going to excel in your life; you are going to avoid this girl. If I ever see you together again, I may be forced to take further action against you. Is that understood?”
“Yes madam!” I almost yelped.
“Fine. Go back to class.” I almost ran out.
“Hey Scarlett, what happened…”
“Umepewa G” the questions came in torrents.
“Nothing happened. I was told to avoid her. Am staying, that’s all!” I quipped, almost sick with relief that I was still around.
As we went for lunch later in the day, I spotted Bennet walking towards the gate, bag slung across her shoulder. When our eyes met, she winked. The nerve!
I could not help feeling horrible that I went through that kind of ordeal yet I was warned about it. Bennet must have thought that I, with my shady look might have been an easy target for abuse. I wanted to scream.
The worst bit is that now, I bet that no one wanted much to do with me. I at least thank God for my desk mate, though she liked to laugh at my hair, she liked my company as I filled her in on my experiences with the gruesome foursome.
All that aside, I looked back and smiled as I had learnt a whole lot of things, even though I guess it was the hard way. For example, I guess it was the third prep in high school, we had just been issued with exercise books, and we were writing the names of the subjects on them. I could not recall the name of that subject that started with ‘b’ very well, so I ended up writing ‘Biography.’ It was as if I had merged ‘biology’ and ‘geography’. Then one of my new friends saw it and burst into laughter. I did not know that I was supposed to laugh along and not look abused. Thus, I ended up looking bad.
Moreover, how bad I felt when coming back to school after the holidays and took way too long learning to overcome it. Especially for second term.
Then, I literally got sick, no appetite and my tummy flattened. I felt like I was being chocked, and wanted to cry. Six days to opening day, the jitters would come. The weekend prior to that Tuesday, I had trouble eating. On that Monday, I just sat and let the grief wash over me; and eventually got up to pack. On the material day, I almost got fits and convulsions. During the journey to, I could not help hoping that there was an accident and everyone, including the car survived and I died. Anyway, my wishes were never granted, I am still around. For the first five days, I walked around like an off-colour puppy, depressed and anxious. All my attempts to cheer up failed, especially because of the abrupt change from excellent to pathetic meals, and Diana’s mug that was an exact replica of my mother’s favourite. I really missed her. And my cat.
In addition to that, the fact that I had to learn how to overcome my annoying kikuyu accent so that I avoid my ‘r,l’ issues. Moreover, avoid putting on an overly surprised or impressed look on my face as the other girls spoke of their amazing holiday experiences. I did not have much to say, but I followed my mum’s advice: listen and learn.
In third term, I decided to look at issues in three-dimension, that is, see the positive and the negative. Especially now that the 404’s, the likes of Bennet were leaving. I had such a negative attitude towards them that I could not tell where form four north or west was. The funniest thing was the way, before she left, Bennet crept up to me in the hall to steal a hug and say bye. I do not wish them the best. Good riddance. I did not even need their hand me downs, lest I got to be that mean; assuming their meanness leaked into their blouses.
I had to up my game in third term so that I could land in 204 with a bang, not a thud. I had a big goal to achieve. That was why they called me Captain. My shrivelled mind revolved around airline planes and pilots like the planets around the sun. I sincerely hope that no one got bored of my obsession with them. You should have seen how I craned my neck towards the T.V. on seeing the slightest sign that news concerning a plane would come up. Even an advertisement of Wilson Airport. During English time, the teacher requested me to make a sentence with a compound noun and off I went: ‘Isn't that airplane pilot beautiful?’
There goes 2010, the pinnacle of my being a thicket, where I knew almost absolutely nothing.; like how to never write a letter on a foolscap but a writing pad or live one day at a time to avoid messing up. I am glad I emerged from 104 alive and unscathed. Or did I?
Next up will be my 204 experience...
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