The Aimless Pursuit For A Life
At Christmas we all left for Tegat, the then workplace of my father. I was yet to celebrate my 8th birthday come 29th December of that year with my brother anticipating his 10th birthday 30th January the following year. Anyway, we knew we were turning eight and ten respectively but nothing was to be done to celebrate the transition. None of our parents seemed to know we were about to have age shifts- they cared less.
Although the journey was cumbersome and the demanding financially, we finally arrived at Tegat tea estate at about two o'clock of 25th December 2006. My father had arranged with one of his friends to come with him and help us carry our few rugged belongings to his two-roomed house which I approximated to be hardly a kilometer away from the tea estate's gate where the fourteen-seater matatu had dropped us. It was my very first time, or better still, our first time, that is I and Maxwell to travel that far- Mom was used to the trek, she used to pay dad visits severally. The houses here were an exception of those in our old village; they were all of the same color from their bases to the roof, arranged perfectly in rows and columns. This made the estate more conspicuous. My father's friend who later introduced himself as Mark Martin helped us through and within thirty minutes, we were seated at the two-roomed house with only one table surrounded by benches and one stool which lied at the extreme end of the room. It seemed a breakthrough altogether, foes had conspired to make most of our dreams not come to live.
' Daddy, what's all about the music I can perceive?', Maxwell asked exasperated. She seemed perturbed by such noise that came from the next room, probably owned by one of the estate workers. "Perhaps a new fellow has been brought in, it's just now am hearing as such", Dad responded with a sense of uncertainty in his voice. ' The guy seems ridiculous with the volume he's playing his music, It's disheartening. The fellow ought to know better than playing loud music as far as disturbing the peace of others', Maxwell added, sounding like a technocrat at his age. Mark joined the conversation this time: " It was the other day I heard someone call him 'Msanii' - I do think he plays his own, maybe. In fact, you're right", gesturing at my father, " He's a new fellow, his dad is part of the managerial of this company". My father satisfactorily accepted Mark's response on who the new guy was, much to his mismatch. He never expected a musician to be residing in such houses; musicians, though young were considered the most affluent social class in the upcountry. Nevertheless, we had nothing to do about his loud music, of course, we still had to sleep at night no matter how loud the noise was; we were visitors and could not stop such stuff anyway. Mark stayed with us till dusk of that Christmas throwing in one question after another concerning home. She seemed a good guy and witty at the same time, as attested by the sage he throwed unto our way that, ' once you make a decision to- change, the world conspires to make it happen' just to encourage us to move on and head to no voice of enemies. I knew very well she got the quote from elsewhere, he was not the type to formulate one as such. I thought well enough that Mark never knew anything to do with Christmas, better were we who knew it but never did anything good for God's sake. Circumstances that surrounded us never allowed us to. We just prayed and took our usual meal of 'githeri' as I can vividly remember. As expected, Christmas was a day full of merriment and refreshment; coupled with eating and drinking with old friends and hiking new places. All we could do was to comfort ourselves that the next Christmas was going to be better.
It took us a full week to completely adapt and stabilize ourselves while gathering new friends from the neighborhood. My mother was so social that by the end of that particular first week, she had already gotten to herself new friends not only amongst the Kipsigis but also from another tribe set. It was good fun to associate with the so named msanii who had welcomed us earlier with thunderous music. He was a kiguyu named Kamau Gikonyo, short and heavily built with a gifted talent of art and music. He was cool, with the guts of making humor from everything he said or heard. His mother, named Jennifer was also of a good heart and became the first close acquittance of My mother. Kamau was trying his best on music and poetry having recorded some of his audio items at his younger age. He had more than twenty-five poems in paper which made him look up to my brother who also had the poetic call since young. He was so fond of music that he would memorize every piece adapted from his bongo favorite artistes, ranging from the Tanzanian harmonize and Platnumz to the Kenyan Willy type among others. I wondered how he managed to memorize such lyrics by heart. ' You funny enough guy, memorizing all of those lines? Huh! sounds crazy', I would ask him, sounding emphatic. He could respond enthusiastically, ' The love for music does the better part of it. Love music and their lyrics will stick unto your heart by themselves. Simple.' His face alluded passion for art. Kamau knew the history of music from head to toe, hither thither, mostly of his type. I later came to realize that without Gikonyo, life at Tegat could have been a mere bore - he made most of our days good.
It no dawned on my mother that it was January and schools were reopening. The nearest school was Mlolongo primary school and after a written interview, we were both enrolled to the school. I had failed the interview; thus, I was made to repeat class two whilst Maxwell proceeded to the next class, that is class five. When did beggars became choosers? I had no otherwise rather to accept, even if I was to be told to go back to class one, sure I would have done so. Lucky enough were we, 'msanii' was also at the same school only in class seven then. We naturally liked msani's company; be it to and from school, and even back at home. School had its pros and cons, some of which required unwavering perseverance. The height of insolence was that we had to take much time to fully adapt unto Mlolongo primary school which was a mixture of more than different language groups. The obviously recommended languages were English and Kiswahili. Most pupils preferred the latter, the reason being that it was better understood and learnt within a short period of time. We two, having been brought up at the interior had a lot to do concerning language usage, we were not used to either of the two. It wasn't easy. The challenge we went through trying to fit into the school vividly reminded me of what our village chief, Mr. Peter Ng'eny had admonished our shift to Tegat tea estate that, " If you are planning to move to a to a multilingual area, that is, away from the single language rural locality, consider how futile it can be. Take a rough look at an herbaceous plant, uprooted from a waterlogged environment, then planted at an arid habitat. Will it easily take root? You'll probably suffer the same fate. So, you better reconsider your hasty decisions, if possible, don't go." Those were his words, though he seemed witty, we had no time to thick as such. Here we were, stranded at a multilingual school wondering what to do to cope with such home sickness; we could either persevere till the better end or just drop out. Dropping out of course was not an option, mom was not the kind to put up with such.
It never took Mom another two months before she secured a job as a casual laborer at the tea farm, together with Jennifer who was also a newbie though two months older than Mom. There was no trouble here, adapting to Mlolongo school was the only challenge; we appreciated whatever little we got, either for lunch or supper. Since then, we rarely missed lunch contrary to when we were home. The effort of both parents worked wonders rather than when Mom was all alone providing for us. It was far much better to have the provision of the two, ensuring that we never lacked. Kamau's mother, Jennifer was uneducated having married to one of the staffs at Tegat tea farm. She seemed the luckiest but of course she never showed it off. Her two doting daughters, with Kamau Gikonyo, were a perfect symbol of their father; tall and slender with a relatively dark skin. I liked their perception naturally, they had no hate in their hearts. I can remember one day when mother told us that Jennifer's husband, Dannie never wanted to see her work as a casual laborer especially as a tea Plücker but Jennifer had insisted on doing so. She never liked being idle and thus she never ceased working even after her husband's pressure to stay away from such work. She always accompanied mother to and from their place of work. They were all for us whenever we needed their assistance, they simply showed us the way to smile whenever our own smiles seemed to fade away. People like her were so very few at Tegat, and thus we decided to respect her family whether we were going through thick or thin; they deserved as such.
It took us the whole of first term which was now coming to an end to fully adapt to the new environment. Circumstances right at school never intimidated us any longer, we were now taking control. We were now full of zeal and zest, ready to confront any fear or challenge related to school life. I had a strong positive attitude towards teachers, who, here at Mlolongo seemed more reasonable and understanding; that is, they were more concerned about the welfare of pupils. Mrs. Waiyaki, my new teacher specifically imparted courage unto me which am very grateful about up to date. She was always there for me, doing whatever she saw as necessary to see me move to the top without having to molest my feelings or shy me off. Contrary to my new school, I never felt ashamed anymore, even though I still performed dismally. I never knew what forgiveness really meant before I met Mrs. Waiyaki who thought us the virtue; I learnt to keep away off crutches and began forgiving, it was cool imagining that I exercised what she thought us. It was pretty fun.
Just one day before lunch, she smiled at the back of our class whilst she asked: 'Marvine, would you mind taking me home for lunch?'. I was perplexed but full of blast, of all the other twenty-six kids, I was chosen. She was accompanying me home for lunch. Rhetorical questions just lingered in my mind, why me? What about the meal? Will she find a delicious one? I never had answers but she had said, she was going home with me; I knew she meant it. She then had proceeded, ' Last week I had promised to accompany one of you, the best improved, as i had said for lunch. Marvine is the one.' I was on cloud nine, being the most improved in our class. With an added advantage, I had to accompany teacher for lunch with was cherished by many a classmate.
Though uncertain of what we were to have for lunch, I could not stand losing the opportunity to have her company home. It was a pleasure and never wanted to lose such a God sent opportunity. Mrs. Waiyaki held my right hand tightly as we walked home while we talked of this and that, most of her time commending my startling improvement. I felt like the whole world could hear her say I was the best especially Ben from my old school. I had improved though slightly; but anyway, an improvement is just an improvement even if it's a tinge. Moving from the bottom of the class to somewhere at the middle was not such that easy for me.
" Hello Mom Marvine? I am Mrs. Waiyaki, Marvin's teacher at Mlolongo school. It's my pleasure to meet you', She literally introduced herself. Mother could not hide her joy, she hugged her warmly and welcomed her in for lunch. I had earlier informed Mom of her. " I've just accompanied him for lunch so as we can talk of how you can help him improve further. Anyway, he is the most improved in my class following the previous report card. ' Ooh My!', mother heaved before she continued, ' God be thanked. He was perhaps the dumbest in his old school. Am very much indebted for your close look at him, he had earlier succumbed to unspoken failure. Tell me whatever good I can do to see him improve further, I shall be obliged.' Mrs. Waiyaki, as I judged from the look on her face, was paying close attention to Mom's utterances not miss even a word or two as though she was on an important interview; She was engrossed to the conversation. Mother served the three of us lunch, Maxwell was not yet in from school. The two talked and talked till dusk when Waiyaki decided it was time for her to leave. I was still there, listening keenly whatever they conversed since most if it concerned me. From their talk, I was now convinced that I was not the dumbest in my class. I had the ability to soar higher than expected.
The next day at school was a jolly one, I had earned respect for myself, having been accorded a chance to walk home with the so called 'mwalimu' through the narrow paths between the tea bushes. Such happened rarely, teachers were especially respected and feared by many. Some of my fellow classmates were agitated and kept on asking what we had for lunch with the teacher, a question I never wanted asked though I never had the guts to lay aside their query. I just formulated all sorts of delicacies I knew then, just to satisfy their curiosity. In essence, we just had the usual meal of 'githeri' which was preferably termed as 'weekend meal'. One other thing I liked about her was her undeterred humility, she did everything in humble silence.
The whole week at school was 'mine', everybody showed interest in me; even those considered academic nerds showed up. I fully decided to do whatever I could not to let down Mrs. Waiyaki; I vowed to myself that I was going put extra effort on my class work than anything else. Another fantastic ideal about her was her love for poetry, especially those that discouraged quitting. She could recite pieces of poetry as perfect as she could, her sound soft and gently. She also made me feel the beat of poetry just as my brother did. My love for poetry did grew under her though I could not do as my brother was doing. Maxwell was now doing exceptionally good at poetry; reciting and writing lines of his own. Precisely, the two, Waiyaki and Maxwell were good in poetry; the only difference being that most of Maxwell's focused on love contrary to Waiyaki's which were based on self-motivation and inspiration. One of Waiyaki's poems which impacted me for a lifetime was the one titled, " Why Quit?'. I can vividly remember her recite the whole lines audibly:
"Why Quit?"
Does the road of life seem weary?
Cry not Child of God,
Dream of a better tomorrow,
Think of Xenocrates and Napoleons,
Men of good courage,
Thus, they say.
Does the Future frighten you?
Worry not Child of God,
Tomorrow knows but itself,
Though the twists unruly,
Think of tomorrow not today son,
Today's already taken Child.
Does the world upsets you with loads?
Fear not Child of God,
The earth came to being long ago,
Why then the worries?
Through thick and thin,
You'll at last triumph.
The lines of her poem, till date remains a driving force unto me whenever life seems an uphill struggle. Mrs. Waiyaka brought out a better me unknowingly, she really touched and inspired me just at my younger age. I befriended her more just a typical teacher, and later found myself inviting her here and then to come with me home.
The second and the third term of Class two were both a practical success to me. I had sprung from the bottom of my class to somewhere at the top, say among the best ten students. This really impressed both my parents and my teacher. Mrs. Waiyaki saw her efforts bore fruits, she never dedicated her time for nothing; I was doing exemplary well then with the audacity to do even much better than that. Maxwell was also doing good in his class, he was so far the giant of the class; not allowing anyone to beat him. He was at the top of his class since, defending the position with zeal and ready to join class seven. He was so valiant for whatever he aspired to do. We proved to our parents that we were not good for nothing, more so me. Mom and dad always scrutinized our report cards every end of term as expected.
While we did incredibly good at school, nature had also done the better part; Mom, with Jennifer's assistance had been hired as a cook at Mlangowazi secondary school, which was next to my school. The vacancy, I was told, had five contestants - all of them casual laborers. Mom was the luckiest, I can say, among the fivesome. I can remember how mom narrated unto me how it happened, and could not help but just marvel on how the losers felt and thought of my mother. The cook salary was reasonably supportive compared to her earlier job. She therefore gave my father an upper hand financially. They both contributed towards a common pool of raising their two sons with love and care - ensuring that we never lacked.
Days went on swiftly, the going had now grew less tough and our relationship with Jennifer more intact. I can at least remember how one day, before supper Kamau surprisingly vowed to live and die with us. It was quite humorous but she meant it. She liked our company so much that she could do anything to retain our friendship. We had grown fond of each others company, that one could not do without the other. "I do Cherish your company guys", he could say whilst gesturing at me and Maxwell. Kamau, alias, msanii had fabricated our friendship in the presence of our parents. It was more fun. Maxwell could think hard before she could respond jokingly: " If the world could have at most ten people of your kind, perhaps there would be no more trouble. Let us build our own world anyway, full of love and friendship. That's the only way out." She seemed wise altogether. Msanii's mother was not an exception, she did all good of her own to see us happy as if we were her own children. Concisely, we all never allowed anything to ruin our relationship as a whole.
I was in class three then when distress broke loose and scammed our sense of serenity. Detailed incidences of that wild day are still fresh in my mind as though they happened yesterday. It was 21st of March, 2007 when what happened happened. We were just from school as usual, accompanied with Msanii where we were met by a depressed face of Edna. Her whole expression seemed weary and anguished, her face wet with tears. We knew exactly something was amiss and something had to be done. On seeing us, she tried to hide the expression on her face by faking a smile. We were now old enough to realize a faked smile. Doubtlessly, I knew the problem was based at Mlangowazi secondary School or something related to such was wrong; thus, was not her rightful time to be home. It was still early to have her at home. My mother suffered mental distress all by herself since she kept us away from the truth and Dad was not always around till sun down.
Though hideous, Mom had to reveal the traumatizing incident to Dad and Jennifer, the ones who really understood situations. I remember her sobbing while trying to explain what had really happened: " They censured me...for trying...to put poison on their children's...food. The conspirators, I think..." She was even unable to complete her sentence, but the sentence she managed to say contained all we wanted to know. She seemed heavily woebegone. We could not hide our tears too, we pitied Mom. I understood her fact, those who had lost the job of having to cook for students had conspired and wanted to dishearten her with blemish. She was blamed of poisoning children's food, something I knew better my mother can't do for God's sake, unless something unruly had picked on the which I don't necessarily think it did. Life has been a struggle, involving ups and downs which required comprehensive boldness especially for my two parents; ours seemed simple yet.
Although despondent, Mom had to comfort herself and continue with business of life, this time jobless, not even certain if she was going to secure a casual-basis one. She just stayed at home now, contemplating how life had been since the very beginning; maybe counting her blessings one by one. She was really of good heart and gave no excuses for not attending to chores or her scheduled activities. Whatever good she could tell us, education was always at the fore; she valued the educational present more than anything else. Always do your best, maximize your God given potential and don't limit yourself, use them as appropriate as they ought to be,' she could say, sounding more emphatic and flawless.