School And What Was Not Needed

Maxwell was now ripe for school and consequently, he was enrolled to Valentine school, a kilometer away from home as good as I can estimate. He would stroll to and from home each passing day. The school itself was a public school and so the rules were more bearable to Maxwell who, at times woke up late and still had the relish to go to school. He inevitably seemed to be enjoying school life rather than home, one thing which brought in a burning sense on me to join school. 'school must be pretty fun', I thought. I could envy him every evening whilst he matched to the table to have his homework done at which point, I could give Mom a stern gave that showed her I was not happy. She was trivially overworking me with boring house chores autonomously even if she was away, all alone. School seemed the only solution as I saw, thus I was intrigued by my brother's table chore.

It was not until Maxwell came home one noon with a relatively large lesion on his forehead that I realized school had its own pros and cons depending on one's general perception on circumstances that really surrounded one. The lesion had left him bleeding profusely. Whatever good he had done to the bleeding was to cover the wound with his snicker as tight as he possibly could do; his first aid had worked well; the bleeding was in a halt when he arrived home. Lucky enough was he that a health clinic had been opened right behind Valentine school.

"Maxwell, Oooh! My God, what's all about the wound?", mother asked him as vividly as I can remember. Before he grew nerve enough to attend to her question, mother interjected once again, "I have been troubled all day long with your recklessness, feeling as though you are insecure. Change or else you be changed. Perhaps the one who did that could have done it better, where would you have been right now? Take extra care. Hear?". Her words seemed flawless, throwing out every wordy expression she found necessary. Maxwell grew more sadder because of her unyielding talk and decided that it was better to be quiet and so he did. She never understood that mom was of high temper until lately in his life. They never took lunch, but instead Mother decided to take him back the same way he had used to school, but this time to the clinic.

In no time, they were at the clinic where they were attended to by a young nurse, fresh from nursing school whose name was Dorcas. She was really of good heart as attested by the way she handled patients meekly and well groomed, significantly conveying his wellbeing and professional ethics. Dorcas was an outstanding exception, everything she did meant a lot, not only to patients but also to herself; she believed in karma, 'do good and go your way'. Her time was coming. I even wondered aloud why God had not sent her early enough while we needed her the most, but for God's sake, I had an answer to my question; she was here doing the whole good she could to my beloved brother. Furthermore, Maxwell was medicated and within the first week she was alive and kicking; only a scar was left behind thereafter which constantly reminded him of those old days. Were it not for her firm persistence on Maxwell to go back to the same school, trust me, she never wanted even the name of the school mentioned. He had a perception that school children at Valentine school normally threw stones at each other. I later learned that Maxwell had garnered a reputation of making jokes on others till that fateful day when one decided enough was enough and gave him a blow which had lesioned his forehead stupendously. Thank God, nothing was no longer amiss it had been brought back to normalcy.

I, just like Maxwell had did, joined Valentine school at age five - the most desirable age of that time. I never understood the concept of academic excellence but preferably, I went to school for the dire need of dodging the usual tiring house chores at home and somehow dilly-dally with the other kinds of my age; It was pretty fun staying with them. Going to school to evade the former never seemed to work out things through, we began sharing house chores with my brother after school day in day out. I felt as though my Mom was becoming unfair to me at some sense since she never made Maxwell do any house chores when i had not joined school. Nevertheless, i never complained to her; perhaps she knew well, parents were fond of knowing much.

My exposure to school really changed the way I used to view things through. School was more jovial with a sense of humor, packed with kids of my age. I later realized that I came to school to make new friends, one of them being the intuitive Ben Kangema. Though he was a year younger than me, he presented himself boldly with the guts of intolerance to intimidation from others. He probably demanded attention and respect from kids; one thing which made him unique in the whole class and made him the center of attention. Mrs. Kinder Chepkwony, our nursery school teacher knew Ben very well. Ben seemed the ring leader of the entire class, leading the class at singing choruses and saying short prayers including poems. With him, school life would become less vexatious for me, his best friend. We shared our deepest experiences and later found ourselves visiting each other once in a while; say once or twice a week.

The first year saw us through school and we welcomed the new year with enthusiasm and curiosity, now ready to join the introductory class. Blissfully, we all sang a 'good bye' song as we bade our old class and teacher good bye; new things awaited us, new roof, new syllabus and a new teacher with an exception of my classmates whom I retained. After a long persuasion from Ben, we occupied the front seat which lied next to the teacher's table which I later regretted for having given in to his enticement. I wasn't used to the front; I specifically liked occupying the back or the middle if I cared less. The reason behind me regretting was that being at the front desk meant I was going to answer most of the teacher's series of unending questions, some of which I considered as though she was harassing me for asking such. All questions were being thrown unto me since the very first day I made such a hasty decision to sit there. I had earlier tried as much as i could to be oblivious of whatever negative was cooking on my mind concerning the questions i was to be asked but it deemed necessary to mind them more; precisely, I was impacted by such. Ben could unabashedly answer every question that came her way – in fact, she showed no sign of awe towards our teacher, Mrs.Betty Rutoh. I feared Mrs. Rutoh the most contrary to Mrs. Kinder. She was tall, heavily built and dark making her a giant in front of me. I hated her, she was one of those teachers who liked bringing in quizzes now and then. Conditions grew more ill when our teacher realized that Ben was a nerd and brighter than me, or better still than the whole class and could possibly answer any question as circumstances demanded, say when I was tongue-tied and could not answer any of her kind, he took over annoyingly. I was seemingly back bitten whenever I missed an answer. This was the very first time I realized that sitting at the front seat doesn't make up a better you but can also hamper you downwards. I had fellows sitting at the back, commonly referred to as backbenchers who gave out their answers unwaveringly. I hated sitting at the fore of the class, I hated my absurd self and more so, I loathed Mr. Rutoh; she seemed heinous. School life had now changed towards the negative and if nothing was going to be done about it, I was leaving school. Better was my first year of schooling.

It reached an extreme one day before midday when Mrs. Rutoh brought up oral questions to be answered solely before we were allowed to go home for lunch, each one of us asked a different question. Seated at the right end of the desk, Ben was the first to attend to his oral question and with no doubt, he freed himself and went for lunch as stipulated by Mrs. Rutoh. I was next in line, wondering what question she was going to ask. 'Marvine', She called out, 'What is the opposite of the word sit?'. Filled with confidence, I repeated her question ridiculously, 'What is the opposite of sit?'. This time, I heard chuckles and smirks from behind. I just knew they were all laughing at me although I pretended not to mind their criticism. The teacher reprimanded back, ' How dare you repeat my sentence?'. Before I could say anything, she teasingly added, 'No answer no lunch. Period.' I never knew whether I was to answer her or remain calm, frank enough, not that I was rude, the answer was to come from nowhere. I never knew the answer. I failed to respond and consequently, she decided to skip me and continued with the same for the whole class. I had wasted their time, they all seemed smart kids and they answered their questions zealously. I felt my heart skip a mighty beat, I was totally agonized. I had resolved to go out without her noticing but in no time, she was back to me. The whole class was now empty - not even one of the twenty-five kids was still in except me and my teacher. Without much ado, she chided, " You seem the dumbest in my class. Wake up. This was a mere 'word and opposite' question. How dare you can't answer it?". Before I grew bold enough to respond, she continued, ' From now onward, let me not see you indulging yourself at the front desk. Get it right?'. I gave her a cue, indicating that I understood. She then allowed me for lunch without minding whether or not I had got the answer, of course she was sure I hadn't known but she never gave me the response she had anticipated. Afterward, I went home dejected having contemplated not to come back again; it was enough of her harassment. Her words were stinging me: I was the dumbest kid. There was no need to argue about it, I saw no need to play the devil's advocate and yet at the same sense, she was a teacher and they always had the final say. I accepted her fact and decided enough was enough- especially when I thought of how others would make me the joke of the next day at school. That day proved to be the worst day to me.

On reaching home, I was welcomed by my mother's gaze which seemed as though she knew exactly what had happened. I can't vividly remember which year it was but I was mentally tortured by Mrs. Rutoh's stinging words. ' Mom, what is the matter? Tell me son, you're too late today. Are you okay?'. I had no otherwise rather than to explain the whole incidence to her, word by word. Clemently, she sympathized with me and promised me possibilities. "How?", I wondered. She seemed to be lying at me, lest she had one other way of solving it; going back to Valentine school was not going to be an option. I now had enough reasons to Maxwell's attempt to leave alone the school; it seemed troublesome. She claimed that it was something unheard of for teachers to address pupils as dumb and if such had happened, then she was going to make a follow-up. I now felt the weight of a dystopian world at my young age characterized by human oppression. I was Oppressed but I could not help, but just shed tears of melancholy. Mom's words did me no good anyway; telling me to remain stoic and continue schooling was not an option to me. She sidelined my proposal to stay away from school or make a shift to another school.

Later that same day, I realized that my mother had her own challenges which were more sophisticated than mine. I just never understood. My elder brother Maxwell, now with the total capacity to understand and rate circumstances, forced me to school the next day having explained unto me how Mom was desperate and lacked peace of mind brought in by our troublesome neighbor, also a relative. Mother had been conflicting with Hellen and was wondering what she could possibly do to ease the tension. I never wanted to know their endeavors, I was self-centered. Maxwell did whatever was necessary to see me wake up for school the following day as if he was Mom's mouthpiece.

Albeit being rigorous, we continued going to school and back every day; I had decided to take whatever they were all going to throw on my way. My general performance was still dismal, better were Maxwell's. I had earlier heard Edna, my mother commend him for the good work he was doing, before she preceded telling me to put more effort and improve on my subjects. She said I had the potential and will power to soar higher and higher. I never understood what she meant by that, all I did seemed awkward. I just went to school to satisfy her, she just wanted to see us go to school, not knowing how futile it had grown against me.

I was in class two when My mother and Hellen crossed the worst paths against each other. We had been to school when our stray cow went past our compound and did whatever hazardous a cow can do to a maize plantation. It wasn't going to be a matter of whose mistake it was, but Hellen, hot tempered came to Mom exasperated whilst demanding compensation, which of course was very much impossible right at that moment. For those who haven't been to Kericho, maize proves to be the most stable and without such, one is destined to hunger. No matter how mother tried to explain to her, she was impatient and poured hot water on Mother's forehead which swept downwards to her whole body. The water had been boiling for, say not less than ten minutes in our hearth. The next day found Mom at the clinic where the hospitable Dorcas worked, having lost part of her outer skin especially from the forehead. Thank God, she was not heavily defaced as was anticipated by many. Just to mention but a few, mother had earlier told us how hostile Hellen was and had tried to hit Dad with a sledgehammer when he had tried to convince her to accept to have the border lines defined clearly. That was all, she louted us heavily. The saying, ' misfortunes never comes singly' was thus ratified.

This paining incidence which almost took away the life of our dear mother forced the whole of us to relocate to where my father worked and we left our one tenth acre piece of land unoccupied. After all we never got nothing better from it apart from having a ground to erect a house possibly a hut and to have our cow tethered to. My parents decided to sell the only family cow before we moved to ensure nothing was left behind. Enough was enough, we were going, leaving Hellen, the worst threat to our peace, alone.