Them days…

Today marks one month into my blogging! I won’t lie, I am kind of surprised that I have lasted so long  but I guess that just goes to show how much I had not been saying that I should have been saying because now that I am saying it I am way better off, you follow? So, ‘Yay!! It’s been a month!’ day to you too…

I went to boarding school when I was twelve and, believe me, it was not because of my lack of trying. Since I was in class 3, I left for the holidays saying bye to my friends and teachers  because ati I wouldn’t be coming back…then I kept on showing up the next term .#how embarrassing# . When I finally transferred, I didn’t whisper a word of it to anyone, in case I jinx it.

My sister repeatedly warned me not to go but si I’m a Kichwa -ngumu?! And so, nikajipelekesha Busara Forest View Academy (although there is not much of a forest to view anymore ).

BFVA was not even a national school, it was inter-national! In other words, we had like 5 guys from TZ. The year prior to my joining, the K.C.P.E results were like the best in the country (i think) Well, we had the  two top students. As you can imagine, intake ya the following year was really insane, and I just happened to be part of that lot ( note: I had been planning to go for 3 years so I should not be classed among those kids who went just because the school had pitaad )

BFVA, to us, was like a Juvenile Institution masquerading as a School. Instead of guards with guns, we had teachers with canes that varied with their creativity. We ran everywhere we went, not jogged. In fact, we sprinted.  Then, the school was in the middle of nowhere! So escape was out of  the question . But we thought about it A LOT! I could personally never memorize the way to the closest town, even after 3 years. That first night, a girl was so homesick, she bebanaad with all her luggage (inclusive of the infamous metallic box) to the gate, demanding the watchman to let her go out of the compound! That didn’t work but I don’t recall her coming back to school the next term…

There are so many things to say about my time at Busach… Yep! we were that shady…but I’ll try to stick to the highlights. Such  as a certain interesting habit we had… At breakfast, we used to kula like a quarter a loaf each and get out of the dining hall feeling hungry!!( I don’t know what kind of monsters we were either). And it was the same with all other meals.So during the holidays, half-term included, we would head home and kula kiujinga!!! By the time you go back to school, you barely fit into your uniform! But, a week into the school term, you turn into a human hanger…

Even on those visiting days, feasts were brought and trust me, nothing went back. Guys would kula until they were full, then some would walk or run around the field before going back for round two…some would actually make themselves puke just to ongeza space!! of course haikuisha, so guys ended up smuggling them in. The preferred means was with an anorak for stuff like gum, chocolate but if you were bright like me, you would get mum to carry it into the dorms in her handbag 🙂 Now, those who did heavy-duty smuggling hid them in the roof of the class room and one very insane fellow even burying a whole bag of chakula in the field ….enyewe guys were obsessed with food !!!! Come to think of it, that might have been the only thing to keep us sane, because as long as you had grab hidden somewhere, you were making a teacher somewhere a big a fool. But honestly, did they think one day a kamafia group would form and make its way to the Principal’s office and say “Put your hands in the air!! We have sausages, and we’re not afraid to eat them?!?!?!” or just walk into the teachers’ lounge and say “Everybody, down on the floor! We have chocolate. If you move, we’ll eat it!?”

My first beating was 3 days into BFVA. Apparently all the books had fikiad the teacher late except the class prefect’s. (butdoisay) . The t.a started of with a speech on doing what is right blah blah…then he just reaches into his jacket and pulls out a plastic hanger, trimmed into a ‘stick’!!!!!! I cried because by then I hadn’t known the code: Never cry in front of a teacher. Never give them the satisfaction of knowing that they hurt you. You would rather wait until they exit. Thus, every time guys were to be beaten, we would make it as fun as possible.

Lucky for me, in class 8, I started getting panic attacks so I always used to hepa. One thing about panic attacks…its very easy to fake and induce a real one 😉

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One thought on “Them days…

  1. V says:

    *Back in the day we were in Primary School*
    We never used to question why the teacher was beating us…we just imagined that their wives beat them…its like a macho-ego thing…

    We never got complicated homework that even our parents didn’t understand…NO!we got a lot of homework that even the teacher couldn’t explain…

    We were told not to run and dare you walk!!!!

    Back in the day life was terrible but we got away with some very fascinating stories for the grandkids!!
    We can write a whole book…Life as a 90s kid…by Recent Kenyan Citizens…

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