Letter From Mom

Inevitably, we both had to miss school for the whole year to have the menace cleared. I was later enrolled to class four at the same school; it now had few pupils, the majority being the Kalenjins and the luos who were not affected. Maxwell joined class seven and our acquittance Kamau had to join class eight since they never sat for the national examination, they were anticipating the previous year.

I was now in class four, with the audacity to move through with ease. All was well with me. School work could not intimidate me any longer though I had never studied for the past one year. At school, the number of teachers had decreased unexpectedly; a large number of them had decided to leave since it was becoming more turbulent and most of them never had the guts to come back. Anyway, we had to go to school whether teachers were adequate or not. I just thought of Mrs. Waiyaki, my best teacher who was also absent; reportedly said to have gone on a vacation outside the country with her husband.

Each one of us wondered aloud why she hasn't shown up, now the first term was coming to an end. Class could have been hilarious with her, though sensibly she could not have thought us any subject at class four. She was limited to the lower classes alone, one thing which frustrated my longing for her.

I was driven crazy when I heard a rumor that Mrs. Waiyaki and his husband had been both slain during the tumultuous outbreak. It had begun as a mere rumor which had no vestige of truth but was eventually changing to a lurking truth; moving around the school as attested by the atmosphere which reigned the compound. There were signs of trouble roaming. The head teacher concealed the truth from us, claiming that she was on a vacation. This was nigh impossible to believe, we had two sides of the story and wondered which one to believe. We were on our way to gaining insight of what happened, just from the rumor which was slowly becoming a fact. To satisfy my aching desire to see, I tried as I could to perceive the rumor as untrue. The rumor had spread so fiercely that I decided enough was enough, I was going to ask the head teacher what really begot her, no matter adamant she could be.

" Last night I had a dream," I began, sounding formal. She signaled me to Continue, something I did proudly. "I dreamt of Waiyaki, our lower-class teacher and mentor". I noted an expression of curiosity on her face before she could answer, " Mrs. Waiyaki? How many times need I tell you she's out on vacation?". " The dream itself was very horrible. Would you mind listening to the bitter end?". She sighed, " Of course. Continue". " In the fantasy of my dream, there was a tribal encounter between her and another man. The difference between the two was bitter which seemingly resembled the Hollywood fiction, 'bahubali' only that Waiyaki's involved the only two of them rather than an entire tribe portrayed by the Hollywood improvisation. One really shocked me was that Waiyaki was defeated and later own followed by the guy to her hut where she was burnt with her belongings. To be sincere, I had the same dream for almost two weeks since we began the term. I do guess it has something to do with what really took place, maybe from the rumor that's going around. Would you be frank enough to tell me from head to toe? Is it true? I hope it's not". She was lost in thought then replied, ' Yes it happened. The rumor is true. Has anyone told you about it before?". I negated her question. The truth was paining me as so did to the other pupils who later got the truth that hid in the rumor. The head teacher, Mrs. Sarah Serem was also depressed, at which point, I realized I was crying. It was painful to know the truth, the truth that the worst happened. The rumor was true, but I was the only one quite sure of it. She had validated my dream that she and her husband were burnt beyond recognition in their house.

That same evening, I told my parents including Maxwell of the fate that had befell my beloved teacher. They all grew dejected, knowing how she had touched my life with love and care at school. With her, school had felt like home to me. It concerned us most and thus we mourned her untimely demise with grief and despair, it wasn't easy to accept. It took me another three months to completely vanish thoughts of her death from my mind; she was young, energetic and full of enthusiasm as well. The second term proved trivially rough enough for me - I tried to fit in but could not. Others were affected, yes, but not as I was. Whenever I referred to the exercise book she used to mark and her encouraging comments she wrote, I even fail to understand why she had to die like that; Nostalgic tears just dripping from my sagging cheeks.

The third term began earnestly with joy as my mother coincidentally met Maurice Chepchumba, the supposed wife of my uncle who worked at Equity bank, Kitale branch. Here she was, having secured a place as an account clerk - the firm was filling in posts that had been deserted by initial holders like Dannie. Though young, Maurice was an accounts clerk and this earned her respect at her young age. It was a bliss to spend some of her free time once in a while strolling with her on the vast scale tea plantation. The only doubt of hers was that she left behind her three-year-old twins to a house girl. She was uncomfortable, making phone calls now and then, asking on how they were doing miles away from her doting young twins, Bobby and Denise, both boys. Judging from her manner of talking, she doubted the house girl.

Not long after she started working, say two to three months, Maurice received a phone call which startled her. The message was not satisfactory. " The young lady. The maid, I mean, has just left without explanation. But rest assured everything is in control with me", Dennilson, my uncle's voice echoed from the other end of the call. Disturbed, she asked, ' What about the Kids? Are they okay? I just doubted her presence, I knew she was not of good heart anyway. Are they really okay?". Maurice was willing to leave her nob to go back for the betterment of her two kids. Her job was important, but less important than her two kids. She decided to leave for Kitale just the day that followed.

To Maurice, fortunes never came singly, she immediately secured another place at Kitale Kenya Women Finance Trust with the help of her husband. The only trouble to them now was that she had nobody to take care of the duo. Their search for a maid had bore them no fruit. In fear of having to lose this opportunity again, she persuaded Dennilson to convince his sister, Mom to come help her. I can remember mom receive a phone call from him, persuading her to give in to her proposal.

Although adamant, Mom finally gave in to her brother's plea having decided that all in all she was jobless and what other job was she looking for? We were afraid, mom was yet to leave us behind; how then shall we manage with father's constant absence and late comings? It was damn impossible. Maxwell and I tried to persuade her to leave alone uncle's proposal but she couldn't not; her 'yes' was, and her 'no' was also her no. As we were still pondering over the predicament, my father softened Mom's heart, promising to do us better while she was going to be away. Mom grew naive of his suggestion and decided she was going.

Mother left for Kitale at dawn of 25th November 2008, having assured us everything was going to be right. I failed to understand how were going to do it by ourselves, especially Early morning when we prepared for school. Who was going to help us? What about the morning tea? Mom was going. My father could not help us, he was an early riser and woke up as early as four am to cover the two miles trek to her place of work. He wasn't used to taking tea at home; maybe they were served with breakfast in where he worked altogether.

Within the first week of her departure, we got a text message telling that she arrived safely. The message in Jennifer's phone read: 'I arrived safely, it's cooler here at Kitale. Sincere pack of greetings to all'. Afterward, a week never passed by without us receiving a call from mother, or a text message, either of the two asking on how we were both doing at school and at home. She kept on telling us on how life was more of fun and blast at Kitale even though we knew it as her norm to consider every situation as 'good' even if it wasn't. She couldn't allow her trouble to interfere with others well-being; she was stoic and resilient, anyway.

Maxwell was doing admirably good at school, now in class eight. He had the audacity and capability to soar high if only he could hold on to the same spirit. Mom kept on inspiring him to do his best; no matter the circumstances that surrounded every situation. With Jennifer's constant support coupled with Dad's minimal, he never got rough time preparing for the national examination that was forthcoming. I can reminisce mom's encouraging utterance to him that whenever you are down for something, God is up to something for you. She could quote from the biblical Hebrews 10:34, which said: ' Therefore, do not cast away your confidence, which has a great reward'. That was all, he needed confidence to go through the exam with ease. On mother's absence, I kept on reminding him of the verse.

The examination day came and went, and now the results had been released. As we had foreseen, my brother passed with flying colors, as they day. She was at the lead of Mlolongo primary school, setting a new record having scored an excellent combination of 385 marks out of the possible 500. We were all exhilarated by her stunning performance. Jennifer also could not hide her joy, Maxwell had made all of us proud; we lived for each other. Respect was slowly coming to our way since the inhabitants of Tegat tea estate seemed to value education more than anything. Mother, of course had to get the good news and thus action was taken to make her know. That was the day we spent more than usual time talking on phone. Each and every individual in the room wanted to talk with mom, including Fancy and Faith, Jennifer's daughters who were now in class one. Kamau Gikonyo was not there, he had already completed the first phase of the 8.4.4 education system and was not in; he had paid his grandmother a visit, it was a holiday. He was at Changamwe boys high school.

Father seemed preoccupied that he never appreciated Maxwell as we expected. He came late that day and never talked to us. We just wondered why he was growing as such; who else could listen to us and yet mom was away? We asked ourselves. That day, he never wanted any question coming his way. He seemed to be taking advantage of mother's absence. Anyway, his annoyance never bothered us much, we had our surrogate mother whom we never feared to ask for anything, especially food, even if it meant for the whole week or two. Father was slowly turning peculiar, though he was not a known drunkard which was a supposed proof of anyone whose way was wayward. We never understood of his sudden change in arrival pattern; arriving later, almost midnight without giving any satisfactory reason at all. Despite his now wayward behavior, we never grew nerve enough to let mother know.

We phoned mom one night and she promised to pay us a visit the month that was to follow; this was after the first year of her departure had elapsed. She asked each one of us what book we needed, including Fancy and Faith - two young fellows who knew nothing rather than to smile and giggle, they were a blessing to be around. I chose the fiction, " Hassan the Genie" by Wahome while Maxwell postulated a form one biology text book though he wasn't already in high school; he was sure to join. The two doting daughters both requested, ' How to read and Write, volume one' to be brought. We anxiously waited for that D-DAY to come; we all longed for the gifts and her company.