Thirteen years later

When I was in primary school, we had the most creative deputy head master especially when it came to instilling pain. She used to make science class sound like Guantanamo bay, because even without lifting her hand, she could instill pain to a ten year old. Even her stare was as scary as hell. Mrs. Maua, (we called her that all our school life to a point where no one really remembers her real name. I sure hope we never meet on the street and I have to introduce her to someone.), made my life terrible. When I was in standard six, she frog-jumped my ass from 6X to 6N, a cool four blocks for not being in my class. My very convincing reason that I was picking up my book from Big Cock aka Njamba Nene, (he was named after a character in a storybook we read in class. He was a pretty small fellow but he embraced the name and lived up to it), fell in deaf years.

Mrs. Maua was spying on me, she had to have watched me for a couple of days to notice that I visited 6X a lot and she got curious. I don’t want to point fingers because there was no real proof that anybody snitched (I know it was that kid who wanted to take mine) but there was no other way she could have found out about my 6X business. In addition to the fact that nothing really happened in that class, except an exchange of glances and giggles, sometimes a very long stare, approximately two and a half seconds and although everyone in 6X knew something was going on, there was really nothing to report. Somehow, she found out something was happening but since she never caught us do anything or even sitting on the same desk, she had to be creative. As I always did everyday during evening preps, I went to 6X to “pick up a book” from Big Cock but Mrs. Maua had other plans. She let a few minutes pass before she followed me; I bet she expected to find me with her, but as I said, I had gone to “pick a book” from Big Cock. She wasn’t very impressed with the turn of events but she had walked all the way from the staffroom ready to punish someone and she was not going back without punishing someone. It was frog jumping for me, and a few canes when I got back to my class.

Angela was a very bright girl, beautiful too with a pair of beautiful pink sandals that made my heart go boom boom and a killer smile. Competition for number one spot since day one was between Charles and me, but third position was hers by default. I liked her a lot, and as young as I was, I knew I had to stand out to win her heart, but as an 11 year old, I wasn’t good with impressing girls, shy too. I did a few dangerous stunts for her benefit (I got scars to prove it too), acted all smart when we had joint classes, and pretty much did anything to attract her attention.  She was rarely caned, but there was this one time she was late for school when we were in class seven (probably the only time) and she had to join the club. We were long term members so for us it wasn’t a big thing for us and we took our daily dose of the cane and went on with our business as usual. When her turn came, tears were lingering even before the cane touched her soft hands. She missed a couple of times before the teacher on duty Mr. Kariuki (he was a sadist I tell you, racing kids to get to the gate before them just so he can cane them, just sad), decided enough was enough and he needed to hold her wrist if he was ever going to get finished with her. Seeing her cry was heartbreaking, it made me really sad and the worst part was there was nothing I could do especially because we were in different streams. I had snuck some mint-choc and fudge from our shop in the morning, like I always did but I couldn’t just walk over to her and hand her the chocolate. I waited until the 10:00 o’clock break and slid them into her locker. She never knew where the chocolates came from, or if she knew, she never told me but seeing her licking the fudge gave me a satisfaction like no other.

Back to class six for a minute, Charles and I always competed for top spot with Angela coming in at a definite third. Due to matters of the heart, I decided to give her the taste of a number above the norm, failed myself just enough to give her a taste of being in the top two. I ended up being ranked 6th that term and my troubles began. All the teachers wanted a piece of me with Mrs. Maua taking the lead. First order of business was banning me from ever laying foot in that class. Secondly, as my science teacher, she decided my cane count should be equivalent to the difference between my score in the previous term and that of the current one which totalled a whooping 23 canes. This was the third worst caning i ever received from Mrs. Maua, the worst being untying that kid, Muchiri, who had skived school and his mum said he should be tied outside the staffroom for a day to teach him a lesson, some parents, closely followed by a beating I received for skiving school to go play football with my cousin and his friends. Anyway, the worst part was even after I failed myself, she still came third as Samuel decided he too wanted to view the world from a few steps above, and Charles without breaking a sweat took the lead.

Being a boy is very difficult especially an 11 year old with a crush. I would literally do anything for Angela but there was no way I could tell her I liked her, she was too intimidating. I would help her carry water on Fridays, (that was when we did the general cleaning), carry her bag sometimes and it was pretty huge, I’d probably have carried her home if she ever asked me too. We sometimes got to talk and regardless of the topic, I wanted to keep talking until right before our K.C.S.E. when she asked me the weirdest question. If it was true I wanted to do it with her and then leave. Apparently this other kid who liked her too told her I said that (same guy that snitched on me, 6X escapades that is). It wasn’t true and although the doing it part had crossed my mind, at that age I probably just wanted to be seen with her and maybe introduce her as my girlfriend.

That was 13 years ago. Charles, Angela, Big Cock and Samuel went to fight different battles in High School and I went to fight mine too. I don’t know what happened to Samuel but Charles and Angela graduated and are now doing very well. Me, I lived for a whole 13 years and ended up here, writing this story.

This piece was written because a few people asked for Angelas' story and Biko is expecting me to send him at least 350 words that make some sense. Susan, Shiku and Alice, this is Angelas' story. Biko, I hope I didn't disappoint you, you too who is reading this piece.
 
On a totally different note, I noticed that I got a fan from Iceland. Thanks for chilling here, stay cool.