He wrote with such precision and fineness that each letter looked like a machine had printed it. I loved the smell from the chalk dust as the chalk waltzed across the blackboard leaving the words ‘Science’ and ‘Heat’ behind it. After many a lesson, the chalk dust would accumulate on the floor beneath the blackboard.
“Who is the class monitor? Can you ensure that this chalk dust is swept away every day? Look at it! For all we know, AIDS could be hiding there,” said Tiche.
Tiche was a nickname the girls had given our Science and Music teacher and a teacher of English to some. He was a man of medium build, dark, with intense and petrifying eyes that made one feel like scampering away from him. His voice was deep and his movements quick.
I think he had Polio as a child and as a result, one of his legs was shrivelled. In order to walk, he had to force the shorter leg down by placing his hand on the knee. He did this so fast that his movements were always speedy. Indeed, whenever he had to chase a student trying to dodge him, he always succeeded in waylaying them.
He was in his early twenties and very attractive. Some girls had a crush on him but he had his own taste. For instance, he liked Razia and another pretty girl in my class called Clarissa Semerian. Both girls were rather short, plump and very light skinned. Razia was a Mukamba like Tiche while Clarissa was a Masaai.
I do not know whether he liked me the same way he liked Razia and Clarissa because he once said, “Ugandans are very beautiful. Look at Tamzel. Isn’t she cute? And Mabel. Another beauty.”
I wished I had my sister’s luck. Tiche was her class teacher and since she always came second in class after Mabel’s sister who came first, he never had to cane them.
It so happened that Mabel’s sister, my sister and I often performed well in class and since we were all Ugandans, our classmates would say to us, “Go back to Uganda! How dare you come here and beat us in class.”
Tiche was the toughest teacher in school and was feared for his canes. He never taught me English but he was once assigned to our class to mark our English compositions. I remembered the remarks he had made on one of my English compositions praising me for a story I had written. It was a remarkable one because my brother had helped me with the ending. He should have suspected that a boy had had a hand in it because the story had a kidnap and some shooting.
When it came to Science, I was not his favourite. On this day, he had asked us to explain the meaning of the word ‘heat.’ Three pupils put up their hands and each one gave an answer.
“Warmth.”
“Warmth. Anyone else with a different answer?”
“High temperature.”
“High temperature. Nice try. Anyone else?”
“Not cold.”
Then the hands stopped.
“And the rest of you?” he asked as he moved around the classroom.
You could hear a pin drop.
When he reached where I was seated, I could not bear the smell of his perfume. I do not know what perfume he wore but I am sure that if I were to smell it today, I would recognise it and it would give me the same sense of abhorrence. In my previous school, I had had the same problem with the perfume worn by a certain Science teacher who happened to be a lady.
“Piga sa hi!” he continued. “Class monitor, please get me a bamboo stick.”
A few minutes later, there was commotion all over the classroom as the stick landed heavily on pupils’ backs.
On reaching where I was seated, something stopped him. I looked at him and saw a spine-chilling expression written all over his face. It was something between a smile and a sneer. I looked away quickly because I felt uncomfortable and terrified at the same time.
I do not know whether it was his deep gaze or the fact that he seemed to enjoy frightening me that made me uneasy.
“Eh, Tamzel. What a serious face! What do you want to be when you grow up?” he asked.
“A policewoman,” I said.
“Indeed. It is only the police who can wear such serious faces,” he said.
When the stick landed on my back, I vowed to read all my Science textbooks back to back so that I would always have an answer for his haphazard questions. The problem with Tiche was that you could never know what his next topic was going to be because he had his own plan of teaching that did not match the one in our textbooks.
He caned almost everyone in the class. Even Clarissa did not survive his canes. When Tiche reached her seat he said, “Clarissa! Clarissa!” as he wrote her name on the wall with a piece of chalk. ‘Hmmm. He is so in love with her,’ I thought to myself.
Eighteen years later, I was to write Clarissa a letter. I saw her picture on facebook. She was a student in Australia and looked even more striking than the last time I had seen her. In this picture, she had long silky black hair and wore a seductive smile and a dress that opened to reveal part of her chest. When I asked her about some of the girls we studied with, she could not remember some of them but when it came to the teachers, she could not forget Tiche. She said, “Eh! But that man really caned me. I met him in Nairobi at a bank where I was working after college and we had a nice long chat.”
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
34 Years of Ennui
I feel like I am reliving a nightmare.
After 10 years of work in the same place, I am going back to the same old troubles that I had at work 5 years ago.
It is more to do with the feeling of being a failure than the monotony of the work place that is really getting to me. Failure punctuated by the constant reminder of my single, childless, poor, olden state will be my undoing.
For this reason, I cannot blog until this mid-life crisis at 34 passes. I am too depressed, tired, dejected, bored and disappointed.
After 10 years of work in the same place, I am going back to the same old troubles that I had at work 5 years ago.
It is more to do with the feeling of being a failure than the monotony of the work place that is really getting to me. Failure punctuated by the constant reminder of my single, childless, poor, olden state will be my undoing.
For this reason, I cannot blog until this mid-life crisis at 34 passes. I am too depressed, tired, dejected, bored and disappointed.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Dear God
Dear God,
Perhaps I am dodging responsibility. Perhaps I hate changes. Or maybe it is just a combination of the fact that my hair is breaking every day, it is too late for me to go back to school, too late for me to get married or have children. I don’t know.
All I know is I need a new job, a black berry and a laptop. If I could only get those three things in that order, I would cope with remaining single all my life and dying with no child. After all, I could always adopt.
Perhaps I am dodging responsibility. Perhaps I hate changes. Or maybe it is just a combination of the fact that my hair is breaking every day, it is too late for me to go back to school, too late for me to get married or have children. I don’t know.
All I know is I need a new job, a black berry and a laptop. If I could only get those three things in that order, I would cope with remaining single all my life and dying with no child. After all, I could always adopt.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Goodbye Masaai Girl
Some of my childhood memories are prickly while others are downright glossy. Like the giraffes, zebras and antelopes we got to see in our backyard. And the first time my my sister and I saw Maasais in their traditional attire face to face. We had just moved in from Western Kenya and had only seen them in books and magazines. It was a nice feeling.
I also remember the way we young ones would greet each other by touching palms or touching and sliding all the way. And the way a Maasai elder greeted us by placing the palm of the right hand lightly on the head of the younger and said ‘Suba’ to which we would respond ‘Eba.’
You see, my Mom taught at a high school which was in the middle of a Game Reserve. We called it K.H.S.
Sometimes on our way home from school we found a dead hyena on the way. We never saw live hyenas or lions. I guess these were kept safely away from the public.
Anyway, on this day, my sister and I had had our hair plaited beautifully because we were to travel to Kampala the next day. My brother, sister and I had taken a walk to town with Sarah, one of our Ugandan friends.On our return, we found some children playing near the K.H.S water tank. Sarah’s four sisters were among them.
“Hmmm! Wameringa!” said Sue, one of Sarah’s sisters. “Is it because of your hairstyles,” said Mimiyi, Vita’s sister.
Vita was a tall, dark, beautiful Masaai girl. She had been our games prefect at school and had been ruthless to us whenever we dodged games. All the Ugandans in that school happened to be from K.H.S where our parents taught. Whenever we escaped from school she would report us to the school administration. This meant that we often got caned for missing games. All our pleas to go home early so that our parents could teach us some subjects on Uganda lest we returned to our country sooner than expected fell on deaf ears.
The moment I heard Sue’s words, something jabbed at my heart. This was not the first time that Sue was making such remarks at people and I was sick of it. I stopped to look at her.
“Nitakupiga!” I said waving my finger at her and walked away.
The following day, I was on my way to see Sarah when two boys began following me. They were Tonny and Toto, Vita’s brother and cousin respectively.
A few weeks earlier, I remember being puzzled at the way Tonny kept shouting to a group of boys the moment they saw me.
“Tamzel, oye!”
“Oye!”
Toto was among the boys who had shouted ‘oye’. He happened to be our headmistress’ son and most of the girls at school had a crush on him. Ours was a girl’s primary school called K.G.S. Toto had a babyish face and was light skinned. He went to a posh boarding school out of town. Tonny was a short version of his sister Vita and went to a boy’s school that had no name. Well, unless P.B.S or Primary Boarding School is a name. All the schools in that place were said in their abbreviation. K.H.S, K.G.S and P.B.S.
I was twelve years old, taller than most girls my age(Unfortunately, I am still at that height today), brown with big beautiful eyes and a shapely figure. However, on this day as I walked to Sarah’s house, Toto was saying, “You think you are beautiful? Oh oh! You are ugly! Ugly!”
I quickened my footsteps to my friend’s house and ignored them. I did not even bother to turn round and look at them.
I found Sue at home alone. Her sisters had gone out to play with Vita’s sisters. Sue and I were in the same class and she had a crush on my brother so she was asking me questions about him.
A few minutes later, we heard a knock on the door.Sarah opened the door. It was Vita.
“Hallo Sarah,” she said and began talking to her as if I was not present.
“So when is the fight going to take place?” she asked after a long chat with Sarah.
“What fight?” Sarah asked.
“I hear yesterday you said you are going to beat the Mimiyis,” she said.
“The Mimiyis?” I said. “Why would I fight the Mimiyis? If you are referring to what I said to Sue yesterday it was meant for her only because she provoked me. But of course, you and I know I would never beat her or anyone even if I wanted to.”
Just then, we heard some noise outside. We opened the door only to find a group of children standing outside.
“Come out, Tamzel!” Toto shouted.
“Mimiyi said you were going to beat them. Why don’t you come out now and do it,” Tonny added.
I walked towards them wanting to explain to them that it was all a misunderstanding. But before I could say anything, I saw my mother walking towards the group of children. She is very light skinned and so her skin had turned red with fury. My brother had seen the commotion outside and told her about it. Our house was only a few yards away from Sarah’s.
“What is all this noise about?” she yelled at them.
As soon as they heard her voice as she walked towards them, all the children scampered off leaving Vita, Sarah and I. I could see Tonny and Toto trying to peep from behind a tree nearby.
“Vita. What do you want from my children?”
Silence.
“When will you ever leave them alone? Instead of concentrating on more serious issues, you are always here looking for stupid fights. When will you ever grow up? Do you know where we came from?”
Vita was in Senior One while the rest of us were still in primary school.
“Utatukumbuka wewe!” She said.
When I went back home I kept telling my brother how I needed to explain to Vita that they had got it all wrong.
“Aaah! It is not worth it,” my brother said. “Forget about them.”
He kept referring to Vita and her siblings as ‘the wicked forces of Vitaria’ henceforth. It was part of a phrase he got from one of our favourite cartoons.
The following day, we left that town and returned to Uganda but to this day, I cannot help but feel pain when I remember the way those children came for me. I still feel hurt by Toto’s words.
New Words
'Wameringa' means 'You are feeling sweet' or 'You are snobs.'
'Nitakupiga' means 'I will beat you.'
'Utatukumbuka wewe' means 'You will remeber us.'
I also remember the way we young ones would greet each other by touching palms or touching and sliding all the way. And the way a Maasai elder greeted us by placing the palm of the right hand lightly on the head of the younger and said ‘Suba’ to which we would respond ‘Eba.’
You see, my Mom taught at a high school which was in the middle of a Game Reserve. We called it K.H.S.
Sometimes on our way home from school we found a dead hyena on the way. We never saw live hyenas or lions. I guess these were kept safely away from the public.
Anyway, on this day, my sister and I had had our hair plaited beautifully because we were to travel to Kampala the next day. My brother, sister and I had taken a walk to town with Sarah, one of our Ugandan friends.On our return, we found some children playing near the K.H.S water tank. Sarah’s four sisters were among them.
“Hmmm! Wameringa!” said Sue, one of Sarah’s sisters. “Is it because of your hairstyles,” said Mimiyi, Vita’s sister.
Vita was a tall, dark, beautiful Masaai girl. She had been our games prefect at school and had been ruthless to us whenever we dodged games. All the Ugandans in that school happened to be from K.H.S where our parents taught. Whenever we escaped from school she would report us to the school administration. This meant that we often got caned for missing games. All our pleas to go home early so that our parents could teach us some subjects on Uganda lest we returned to our country sooner than expected fell on deaf ears.
The moment I heard Sue’s words, something jabbed at my heart. This was not the first time that Sue was making such remarks at people and I was sick of it. I stopped to look at her.
“Nitakupiga!” I said waving my finger at her and walked away.
The following day, I was on my way to see Sarah when two boys began following me. They were Tonny and Toto, Vita’s brother and cousin respectively.
A few weeks earlier, I remember being puzzled at the way Tonny kept shouting to a group of boys the moment they saw me.
“Tamzel, oye!”
“Oye!”
Toto was among the boys who had shouted ‘oye’. He happened to be our headmistress’ son and most of the girls at school had a crush on him. Ours was a girl’s primary school called K.G.S. Toto had a babyish face and was light skinned. He went to a posh boarding school out of town. Tonny was a short version of his sister Vita and went to a boy’s school that had no name. Well, unless P.B.S or Primary Boarding School is a name. All the schools in that place were said in their abbreviation. K.H.S, K.G.S and P.B.S.
I was twelve years old, taller than most girls my age(Unfortunately, I am still at that height today), brown with big beautiful eyes and a shapely figure. However, on this day as I walked to Sarah’s house, Toto was saying, “You think you are beautiful? Oh oh! You are ugly! Ugly!”
I quickened my footsteps to my friend’s house and ignored them. I did not even bother to turn round and look at them.
I found Sue at home alone. Her sisters had gone out to play with Vita’s sisters. Sue and I were in the same class and she had a crush on my brother so she was asking me questions about him.
A few minutes later, we heard a knock on the door.Sarah opened the door. It was Vita.
“Hallo Sarah,” she said and began talking to her as if I was not present.
“So when is the fight going to take place?” she asked after a long chat with Sarah.
“What fight?” Sarah asked.
“I hear yesterday you said you are going to beat the Mimiyis,” she said.
“The Mimiyis?” I said. “Why would I fight the Mimiyis? If you are referring to what I said to Sue yesterday it was meant for her only because she provoked me. But of course, you and I know I would never beat her or anyone even if I wanted to.”
Just then, we heard some noise outside. We opened the door only to find a group of children standing outside.
“Come out, Tamzel!” Toto shouted.
“Mimiyi said you were going to beat them. Why don’t you come out now and do it,” Tonny added.
I walked towards them wanting to explain to them that it was all a misunderstanding. But before I could say anything, I saw my mother walking towards the group of children. She is very light skinned and so her skin had turned red with fury. My brother had seen the commotion outside and told her about it. Our house was only a few yards away from Sarah’s.
“What is all this noise about?” she yelled at them.
As soon as they heard her voice as she walked towards them, all the children scampered off leaving Vita, Sarah and I. I could see Tonny and Toto trying to peep from behind a tree nearby.
“Vita. What do you want from my children?”
Silence.
“When will you ever leave them alone? Instead of concentrating on more serious issues, you are always here looking for stupid fights. When will you ever grow up? Do you know where we came from?”
Vita was in Senior One while the rest of us were still in primary school.
“Utatukumbuka wewe!” She said.
When I went back home I kept telling my brother how I needed to explain to Vita that they had got it all wrong.
“Aaah! It is not worth it,” my brother said. “Forget about them.”
He kept referring to Vita and her siblings as ‘the wicked forces of Vitaria’ henceforth. It was part of a phrase he got from one of our favourite cartoons.
The following day, we left that town and returned to Uganda but to this day, I cannot help but feel pain when I remember the way those children came for me. I still feel hurt by Toto’s words.
New Words
'Wameringa' means 'You are feeling sweet' or 'You are snobs.'
'Nitakupiga' means 'I will beat you.'
'Utatukumbuka wewe' means 'You will remeber us.'
Thursday, July 9, 2009
A Letter from Mudamuli
Dear Tamzel,
I appreciate your kind gesture in trying to find me a suitable man to marry. However, the man I want is one who has a clear, refined and persuasive voice and enjoys his life to the fullest, has loved, lost and gained, has made friends, has made money, and knows how to make a woman smile. Enjoys partying, loves baking, from chocolate cake to butter cookies and meat pies. I do not want this crude, greenish, childish, uncivilized, undeveloped male species you found for me.
Do not misinterpret me Tamzel, do not take this badly, this is personal, I want to be impolite, I am hoping to sound mean. I never said I was nice. I have an intense dislike for making such offensive comments on the male species but I am taking urgent consideration for making an exception in his case. I have just seen him, he is the sort of husband who would often cause many a wife to say to themselves, “Oh dear. When will this end?”
Your man is the one I want.
Mudamuli
I appreciate your kind gesture in trying to find me a suitable man to marry. However, the man I want is one who has a clear, refined and persuasive voice and enjoys his life to the fullest, has loved, lost and gained, has made friends, has made money, and knows how to make a woman smile. Enjoys partying, loves baking, from chocolate cake to butter cookies and meat pies. I do not want this crude, greenish, childish, uncivilized, undeveloped male species you found for me.
Do not misinterpret me Tamzel, do not take this badly, this is personal, I want to be impolite, I am hoping to sound mean. I never said I was nice. I have an intense dislike for making such offensive comments on the male species but I am taking urgent consideration for making an exception in his case. I have just seen him, he is the sort of husband who would often cause many a wife to say to themselves, “Oh dear. When will this end?”
Your man is the one I want.
Mudamuli
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Tamzel to Mudamuli
Dear Mudamuli,
The way I feel now, I wish I could receive twenty emails from someone I admire. Coming up with a good post that can receive even ten comments is just not in me. I mean, even when people are sending shots out, I am never included. I wonder what it is you see in me.
And this business of comparing Carrot with his brothers must stop. If you are trying to make him jealous, it won’t work. In any case, they are already taken and their girlfriends had better not know that you are in touch with them.
Another thing. Can you please do me a favour? Delete all your blogs. Especially that Mudamuli one. I can’t stand it. That is why you will never find my comments there. By the way, I am not joking.
That said, I wish that you could tell me who that Carrot is. I have a feeling we are in love with the same man.
Tamzel
The way I feel now, I wish I could receive twenty emails from someone I admire. Coming up with a good post that can receive even ten comments is just not in me. I mean, even when people are sending shots out, I am never included. I wonder what it is you see in me.
And this business of comparing Carrot with his brothers must stop. If you are trying to make him jealous, it won’t work. In any case, they are already taken and their girlfriends had better not know that you are in touch with them.
Another thing. Can you please do me a favour? Delete all your blogs. Especially that Mudamuli one. I can’t stand it. That is why you will never find my comments there. By the way, I am not joking.
That said, I wish that you could tell me who that Carrot is. I have a feeling we are in love with the same man.
Tamzel
Thursday, May 28, 2009
What I Want Right Now
In my last effort to communicate through the web, I feel compelled to mention what I desire. The same obligation I would have had if today was my last because I would have had nothing to fear. Like rejection or heartbreak. After all, time would not be on my side.
I feel compelled to tell you this. I want to talk to you like we used to. I want to share stories like we did back then.
There is something I want to do but I am not allowed to do it. I once tried it but without success. I have a feeling it had something to do with me needing you to talk to me like we used to. I would endure any pain just for you but that is another story.
I know we’ve been through this a thousand times before. You have so much going for you while I have nothing. But at least you once told me I was constantly on your mind. Is it possible for us to go back to that time? After all, we are still friends.
Man, there are some things I still cannot bring myself to say lest I reveal more than I should. After all, I might be here again soon.
I feel compelled to tell you this. I want to talk to you like we used to. I want to share stories like we did back then.
There is something I want to do but I am not allowed to do it. I once tried it but without success. I have a feeling it had something to do with me needing you to talk to me like we used to. I would endure any pain just for you but that is another story.
I know we’ve been through this a thousand times before. You have so much going for you while I have nothing. But at least you once told me I was constantly on your mind. Is it possible for us to go back to that time? After all, we are still friends.
Man, there are some things I still cannot bring myself to say lest I reveal more than I should. After all, I might be here again soon.
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