A WALK LIKE NO OTHER
I am not very skilled in writing, but I take hold of a pen, rub it
over a piece of paper in a systematic way as taught in nursery school
some twenty one years ago. Pushed by the urge in my heart to share this
message in its simplicity. A walk like no other. A walk to remember,
others would put it that way.
There was excitement and ecstasy all over. Yells of joy and jubilation filled the cold Njoro air. From a far, you could easily know that there was something unusual happening. Some neighbours and passersby could not withstand the chants and screams from the boys (Men – as they called themselves). Many stood agape, watching the happenings as they unfolded. You would think it was the famous wilder beast migration in Mara and Serengeti. It was like another season of prison break. Free at last. You could read that from the voices and looks on the students’ faces. Dust filled the air from the thunderous, enormous stamping of feet by the students on their way out. The surrounding knew, the “Men” are now out. Most shops closed for fear of looting as it had been happening during such times.
After one and a half months in school, it was time to go for Midterm. Everybody was excited about that. But amidst all this excitement, I went back and sat quietly on my bed in Longonot 1 dormitory, trying to get to terms with the bitter reality. The other students left one by one, with their bags on their shoulders as they happily tread. But with me here, pain and anguish grip my nerves. With my teeth tight trying not to show my friends all I was going through. “Manhood needs perseverance”, I recall these words spoken by my father in several instances when I looked weak and discouraged. These words to some extent prevented me from breaking down to tears. “A man should be strong, does not cry like a baby! Does not show defeat!” Those were the words of my father that kept on ringing in my mind.
A myriad of questions trickled down my brain housed in my small head. Should I ask for assistance? What will others say? Why should I bother everyone? Why me? …. Endless. These questions led me into a little slumber. Who did this to me and why?
On the eve of the start of the Midterm holiday, after leaving class at 11.00 pm, I was shocked to find my metallic box butterfly open. I looked into the box to see what was taken away. The books were intact but wait a minute…. My fare! My fare was not there. I used to be given 100 bob for transport and shopping from home. Briefly, I spent sh. 20 to buy 4 beifa biros, sh. 30 for transport from Nakuru to Njoro, sh. 10 for CU offering and sh. 40 for the journey from Njoro back to Nakuru. (To me, those were the basic needs, others came in as secondary) And now, the sh. 40 is gone. Where do I start? I felt like the thieves had just cut my limbs.
The rest of the night was sleepless. It was indeed a long night for me. But regardless of my troubles, morning came and it was real that I had to trek from Njoro to Nakuru. I could not borrow anyone money because I remembered my father’s words “A man does not show defeat” And would stress the word defeat I think to drive the point home completely. If it was cursing, I bitterly condemned the persons who stole my money wishing that the earth would open up and swallow them alive.
I rose up from my bed packed my few belongings and started walking out of the dormitory. On reaching the school main gate, I meet the security personnel. “What were you still doing? The others left long ago. Is there any problem?” “No” I replied, not to let down my father for showing defeat.
I walked from the main gate to the road. I had made up my mind that I was going to walk to Nakuru and the journey started. At first I myself too did not believe I would make it but when I reached at the main road, I knew that there was no option but to take the cold shower. Unfortunate for me, the acacia trees along the road were cut down and left lose. The thorns went through my torn shoes and pierced me. It was very painful but I remembered that I was a man and so rose up and moved on.
Since I walking by the road side, vehicles came past me but I told every tout who asked me where I was going “ I am just about to reach” I would say and put on a smile to cover the pain in my toes. I walked for long. The scorching sun hit my head. I just encouraged myself that I would reach home on foot. Though it was unrealistic, I knew that it may take long but I would definitely reach. After walking for about five kilometers, I was overwhelmed with the heat. At this time I would not see any shops or homesteads along the road. Only a few vehicles passed at a very high speed.
I sat down to rest and gather momentum to move on. Suddenly, a matatu headed for Njoro passed by and the tout asked the driver to stop the vehicle. They asked me if I was well and I replied that I was well. “Where do you stay?” a man in the matatu asked. “Kenyatta” It was the only place I knew that was near. “Oh, you are just about to reach” he answered. The matatu then left. My feet were blazing hot with grave blisters and blood oozing out of the painful thorns pierces under my feet.
On seeing the suspicion if I sat down, I decided to rise up and continue with my journey. I walked, and walked and walked. I started feeling weak. But now, I was approaching Jesus Is Lord, About 9 kilometers from Njoro Town. To my amusement, the same vehicle that passed me on its way to Njoro came past me again. This time the man in the matatu became angry and asked me again, “Have you not reached” Not yet, I replied. “Come on!” he called me to the vehicle and told me to board. I was afraid but just accepted.
The man paid for my fare and left seventy shillings with the conductor that I should be given when I alighted. The man alighted at Eveready and left me in. On reaching town, I was given seventy shillings. That was indeed a blessing in disguise. He was a God - sent angel who came to save my small painful feet.
That is when I came to believe that God does not forsake his people, just to add on THE TWIST OF FATE. I wish to one day I see this man who helped me in my time of need. To me, he qualifies to be a true friend. That wasn’t really an occurrence worth remembering but rather a walk not worth forgetting.
There was excitement and ecstasy all over. Yells of joy and jubilation filled the cold Njoro air. From a far, you could easily know that there was something unusual happening. Some neighbours and passersby could not withstand the chants and screams from the boys (Men – as they called themselves). Many stood agape, watching the happenings as they unfolded. You would think it was the famous wilder beast migration in Mara and Serengeti. It was like another season of prison break. Free at last. You could read that from the voices and looks on the students’ faces. Dust filled the air from the thunderous, enormous stamping of feet by the students on their way out. The surrounding knew, the “Men” are now out. Most shops closed for fear of looting as it had been happening during such times.
After one and a half months in school, it was time to go for Midterm. Everybody was excited about that. But amidst all this excitement, I went back and sat quietly on my bed in Longonot 1 dormitory, trying to get to terms with the bitter reality. The other students left one by one, with their bags on their shoulders as they happily tread. But with me here, pain and anguish grip my nerves. With my teeth tight trying not to show my friends all I was going through. “Manhood needs perseverance”, I recall these words spoken by my father in several instances when I looked weak and discouraged. These words to some extent prevented me from breaking down to tears. “A man should be strong, does not cry like a baby! Does not show defeat!” Those were the words of my father that kept on ringing in my mind.
A myriad of questions trickled down my brain housed in my small head. Should I ask for assistance? What will others say? Why should I bother everyone? Why me? …. Endless. These questions led me into a little slumber. Who did this to me and why?
On the eve of the start of the Midterm holiday, after leaving class at 11.00 pm, I was shocked to find my metallic box butterfly open. I looked into the box to see what was taken away. The books were intact but wait a minute…. My fare! My fare was not there. I used to be given 100 bob for transport and shopping from home. Briefly, I spent sh. 20 to buy 4 beifa biros, sh. 30 for transport from Nakuru to Njoro, sh. 10 for CU offering and sh. 40 for the journey from Njoro back to Nakuru. (To me, those were the basic needs, others came in as secondary) And now, the sh. 40 is gone. Where do I start? I felt like the thieves had just cut my limbs.
The rest of the night was sleepless. It was indeed a long night for me. But regardless of my troubles, morning came and it was real that I had to trek from Njoro to Nakuru. I could not borrow anyone money because I remembered my father’s words “A man does not show defeat” And would stress the word defeat I think to drive the point home completely. If it was cursing, I bitterly condemned the persons who stole my money wishing that the earth would open up and swallow them alive.
I rose up from my bed packed my few belongings and started walking out of the dormitory. On reaching the school main gate, I meet the security personnel. “What were you still doing? The others left long ago. Is there any problem?” “No” I replied, not to let down my father for showing defeat.
That wasn’t really an occurrence worth remembering but rather a walk not worth forgetting.
I walked from the main gate to the road. I had made up my mind that I was going to walk to Nakuru and the journey started. At first I myself too did not believe I would make it but when I reached at the main road, I knew that there was no option but to take the cold shower. Unfortunate for me, the acacia trees along the road were cut down and left lose. The thorns went through my torn shoes and pierced me. It was very painful but I remembered that I was a man and so rose up and moved on.
Since I walking by the road side, vehicles came past me but I told every tout who asked me where I was going “ I am just about to reach” I would say and put on a smile to cover the pain in my toes. I walked for long. The scorching sun hit my head. I just encouraged myself that I would reach home on foot. Though it was unrealistic, I knew that it may take long but I would definitely reach. After walking for about five kilometers, I was overwhelmed with the heat. At this time I would not see any shops or homesteads along the road. Only a few vehicles passed at a very high speed.
I sat down to rest and gather momentum to move on. Suddenly, a matatu headed for Njoro passed by and the tout asked the driver to stop the vehicle. They asked me if I was well and I replied that I was well. “Where do you stay?” a man in the matatu asked. “Kenyatta” It was the only place I knew that was near. “Oh, you are just about to reach” he answered. The matatu then left. My feet were blazing hot with grave blisters and blood oozing out of the painful thorns pierces under my feet.
On seeing the suspicion if I sat down, I decided to rise up and continue with my journey. I walked, and walked and walked. I started feeling weak. But now, I was approaching Jesus Is Lord, About 9 kilometers from Njoro Town. To my amusement, the same vehicle that passed me on its way to Njoro came past me again. This time the man in the matatu became angry and asked me again, “Have you not reached” Not yet, I replied. “Come on!” he called me to the vehicle and told me to board. I was afraid but just accepted.
The man paid for my fare and left seventy shillings with the conductor that I should be given when I alighted. The man alighted at Eveready and left me in. On reaching town, I was given seventy shillings. That was indeed a blessing in disguise. He was a God - sent angel who came to save my small painful feet.
That is when I came to believe that God does not forsake his people, just to add on THE TWIST OF FATE. I wish to one day I see this man who helped me in my time of need. To me, he qualifies to be a true friend. That wasn’t really an occurrence worth remembering but rather a walk not worth forgetting.
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