We sat around the table at the bar, drinks on the table, jolly laughs going up in the air,
“Cheers!” Alex shouts
“Cheers!” everyone chimes in.
“You have been lost and haven’t put much meat on these bones,” he shouts, lifting a fat beefy arm and clapping me on the back. It lands a little hard and causes me to choke on the large swig of beer I had been trying to gulp down.
“Damn! You hit harder than Agwambo.”
“HAHAHA! I never will forget how hard that guy could smack you. He was a natural dentist. Knocked out rotten teeth and fillings on the regular”
“The blackest man in blackest East Africa,” Nelly mocks him, standing partially, puffing his chest out and rocking from side to side. “He knocked me out cold, and you guys keep reminding me about that night.”
“Man, Asonga learnt that gravity was optional with Agwambo”
This takes me back. The night I should really have gotten saved. The ass whooping of the decade as I called it.
I know I know everyone went through high school and had a crazy or awesome deputy as they did. It is also a little ironic that I am a teacher writing this. Karma has it in the cards that the kids I teach will pretty much do the same. The already made one meme of me that I know of. (Gives tiny evil laugh)
First act- Tom Stima Agwambo
This guy was dark, and he knew it. He called himself the blackest man in blackest east Africa. He had the build of a very stoic rugby player; tall, thick, heavy set. He looked like he was appointed partly for his physic and partly for his talent in dealing with boys “perpendicularly”. Btw, only Kenyan teachers say this. Mr. Stima would perpendicularly deal with us on the daily, given that it was back when ass-whooping was considered acceptable if not necessary for the moulding of teenage boy.
There was one night, during prep when he was standing outside the window. Have I mention I was a class prefect. HEHEHE! Long story as to how that happened. But yeah so we supposed to be having prep and the hours were going by a little too slow for comfort. So, what to do to burn up a few minutes! I hype up a buddy of mine to find out who is the best dancer. Of course, there was always a fire beats drummer, and a resident rapper. So the vibe is going, busting moves, guys spill from the other classes and it’s a thing.
Lo And behold! Agwambo arrived on the scene. You know that high school teacher that stands outside the window to see you do all your shit before pouncing. That was his nature. We had been going at it for about twelve minutes before one face dashes away from the door. Heads raised, ears alert, eyes darting. The hushed whisper goes around. A moment of shocked silence, eyes darting
“Stima amecome,” a voice shouts and darts away
“Ghai, Agwambo wasee!, Agwambo!” Then the kafuffle ensues. Like zebras darting from a lion in the savannah, everyone zooms to their desk or respective class. Silence. Feigned concentration. All heads bowed. None dares look up lest you make eyes contact with the deputy. The consequences were both dire and hilarious. Seconds elapse. The uncertainty start to wane. A nervous giggle creeps across the room as a perceived false alarm is dismissed.
Mike goes up to the door, hoping to dash to the loo before the actual danger arrives. We had caused quite the ruckus believing that we were too far away from any ubiquitous eyes. Just as he peeps to confirm that the coast is clear…
WHAM!
Breath drawn and held…..
Nelson slips to the ground. Dazed, dribble dripping from his lower lip. His body goes limp, eyes rolling in their sockets. Mr. Stima emerges from the darkness.
All our eyes turn to the door in unison. There’s a synchronized dance as necks crane, duck down and palpable concentration. At the door, Mr. Stima stands and his ease quickly scan and eliminate potential prey. Ties get fixed, shirts tucked in, blazers won. All as subtly as possible. After a few long moments, the voice booms.
“Asonga, come here!”
I stand up, filled by the delusion that he has just arrived and I can lie my way out of it. I walk towards Mr.Stima, trying my best to feign courage but the sight of a blacked out Nelson did not help matters. Let it be not that I was (still am) very skinny, and short, Nelson on the other hand was built like a bull. Seeing him felled by one slap was a lot more than a little unnerving.
“Are you the class prefect?” He spoke as he swept the room with a steely gaze. Of course, he knew me well. He even taught me history on a daily basis. Therefore the line of questioning was more for intimidation than any other reason.
“Yes,” I replied.
Bang! Slap number one landed. Shocked at the suddenness, I rubbed my cheek as and stepped back.
“Are you the class prefect?” He asked again, his voice lower, his eyes set on me blazing like a raging fire. I gulped took a quick glance at Nelly and shuffled backwards.
“Yes sir, I am.” I replied meekly
“Where are the noise makers?
I stay silent. Thou shall not incriminate thy self. Kenyan law number one. Rule number two, Thou cannot incriminate others if thou is equally guilty knowing the consequences would quite severe.
“Asonga, you slip of a boy, it is rude to keep quiet. I want the noisemakers names or I deal with you perpendicularly.”
“I don’t have one, sir. I was not in class”
A thin smile crossed his pursed lips. His tell-tale sign that he knew everything. I instantly knew I was doomed. Mr. Stima was now facing me with his hands behind his back. A flurry of slaps was on its way and I couldn’t tell which hand would come first. Instinctively, my arm came up to my lips hoping to fend off as many blows as I possibly could.
“You know I saw everything,” he replied taking a step forward.
When the boys say I learnt that gravity was optional, it is true. The colossal arms got me of the ground and as the multitude of blows came, I was suspended in the air for a full minute. The jolt of electricity that was packed in his name buzzed through me with every hit. By the time I hit the ground, I had to play possum. That was the last day in school and the last day I saw these fellows until today.
I withdrew from my reverie and joined the laughter as they continued to laugh at the memories that came up.
No comments:
Post a Comment