Chapter 1. Sunday

Ugly was the scrawny git in the mirror, staring back with so much contempt on his hideous face. The midget's eyes were too hollow, lashes too long, eyebrows too wild, protruding cheekbones too high, lips too chapped, hair too dry and the smooth dark brown skin screamed 'lowest of the lowest caste'.

The unlucky Indian misfit staring back was malnourished and the tatters covering his nakedness were too wrinkled that they looked like they had been pulled out of a cow's mouth. There wasn't any point of ironing tatters anyway, especially those that were too short at the arms and legs. The dark blue tie that felt like a noose around his neck made the skiny boy shudder imagining how bullies at school would make it very useful. He hated the ugly dark blue cardigan that had too many holes that did nothing to shield him from the chilly July weather. He had to hold on to it though 'cause it was the only one he had. The depressed dork hated how he made the beautiful St. Joseph Boys High School uniform look so ugly. He wondered if anyone would ever take pity on the scowling prick in the stupid mirror and hand him down another pair of old school uniform. No one would and he knew it.

He slipped his tiny feet inside the only pair of shoes he owned. Patches of all sizes adorned the poor faded converse that he long ago forgot their original colour.

"You are Smart, you are confident, you are important. Smart, confident, important....". He tried smilling at his reflection while chanting the positive mantra even though he didn't believe a single word of it. Maybe if he continued drilling the words to his abused brain, he'd start viewing himself differently.

Smart, confident, important. Pfft.

Who was he kidding? He knew what he was...Sunday the punching bag, Sunday the personal slave, the creep, the slime, weirdo, the queer.....Just that thought sent a horrifying chills up his spine. Shaking off the heart clenching thought, he started his four kilometres trek to St. Joseph Boys High School - the hell hole.

''Promise me you'll study hard and never miss school or cut classes, honey. Promise me". His deceased mother's words rang loudly in his head. Oh! how he hated those words. Oh! how he wished he could take back that promise. How he wished he could go back to the heap of rags that he called his bed and hide his face from the cruel world. How he prayed for his pot-head father to help him break the silly promise by just pulling him out of the stupid public school. That was never going to happen and he knew it because to the dimwit, an educated son meant a wealthy wife and a wealthy wife meant a handsome dowry which meant more money to gumble. If only he was a real boy...

On his way, he noticed the portly Mr. Kamau opening his dairy shop as he shouted a greeting to the ever grinning Jemo - the butcher. He wondered why the butcher liked exposing his long tobacco stained teeth that can only be compared to that of a beaver. Shaking his head to that thought, he noticed Mrs Kurgat's left foot slipper at war with little Johnny's backside. She was shouting something about evidence of stolen sugar on the poor kid's mouth while raining it down on him mercilessly. Old grumpy Oti and his middle aged unmarried daughter were watching the funny scene with expressionless faces. He noticed school vans full of noisy teenagers speeding down the rough road leaving behind clouds of dust. He noticed public vans picking up and dropping off passengers at every stop and people smiling and waving at each other. He realised then that nobody noticed him. Not even people of Asian descent that should have taken pity on their own.

He was so insignificant that nobody cared to know or remember or just use his name. Old folks called him Kid, others 'Hey you' and his age group called him whatever vulgarity they had in mind. The only time anybody called him Sunday, was when a disguisting or abusive word was to be added before or after the name. They never even got his name right. It was supossed to be Sandeep, not Sunday but was Sandeep even his real name?

One hour and some minutes later, the dark skined boy stood at the gate of St. Joseph boys high school furiously chanting; brazing himself for the underworld.

'You are smart, you are confident, you are important. Smart, confident, important. smart confident important. smartconfidentimportant'.

"I wish they'd kill me for real today".