LET'S DRINK AND MAKE MERRY, FOR TOMORROW... WE GET SAVED.
It was show time again. The Nairobi International Show, that is. The year was 1984 and I was in Form 4. As usual, there were several bus trips ferrying students from Bush to Jamhuri Park and everyone had to be on their assigned trip on either of the two buses - the new school but whose registration number I forget, and the old faithful loaf-shaped KMG. We had connived to be assigned to the last trip out of school, because that also meant that we would be on the last trip to leave the Show.
For us, the show was not about ogling at exhibitions of new products or friesian cows as they competed for first prize, after all, we had dropped Agric as a subject at the end of Second Form. Instead we spent part of the morning watching acrobatics at the tattoo ground while waiting for the real show to start - the disco at Namis Club which was graced by Maroon Commandos live band.
I was particularly popular with my buddies around show time because I had an uncle who was an officer in the army. I would take my buddies to the officers' mess at the show ground and ask to see him, hoping that he was actually not in. If he happened to be in, we would go in and say hi and he would buy us lunch and we would be on best behaviour as we ate great food and drank coke and fanta. But if he happened not to be in, then we would lie that he had asked us to wait inside for him, and as soon as we were let in, we would cover our school uniform in jackets or sweaters that we had carried, sit at a corner and order beer at greatly subsidized prices. Thus the afternoon was spent making merry courtesy of the Kenyan armed forces.
On this particular day, my uncle thankfully happened not to be around and we spent most of the afternoon drinking duty free alcohol. When we felt sufficiently drunk, we went off to dance the evening away. But we had to be careful not to miss the last bus to school which we calculated would leave from the pick up point at a Petrol Station at Dagoretti Corner at about 9 p.m.
All too soon, it was time to go and we staggered merrily to Dagoretti. Thankfully, we found the bus just about to leave. We hopped on singing our hearts away but no sooner had I sat down than I noticed Isaac Lenaola sitting soberly on the same bus and I knew we were in trouble. You see Isaac was the Junior Library Prefect and straight as a rail. He was also a Christian. We were not as close as we later became and I fully expected that he would certainly take this matter forward. I sensed a suspension coming my way.
When we got to school, my friend and drinking mate, Adongo Adeya, insisted on holding my hand to escort me to my dorm despite his being equally drunk. We both caused quite a scene as we staggered from the parade ground past the grave yard and the Grieve Library towards Sellwood House. Little did we know that Mahinda Macharia, the Chapel Prefect who was the Senior PoD that week had caught sight of us.
No sooner had I slipped into bed in Dorm 21A than Mahinda walked in. "Njonjo, have you been drinking?" he asked with fatherly concern. "I had a few sodas with some friends from Lenana," I lied. "And it seems like they put something in my soda because, although I don't know how it feels like to be drunk, I am feeling a bit funny."
Mahinda proceeded to tell me how bad drinking was. He was more concerned about the state of my soul than the fact that I had broken a cardinal school rule. "You are a good boy with a great future ahead of you," he said. "Satan knows that and he is not happy. You see, the thief comes to steal, to kill and to destroy, but Jesus came that you may have life abundantly. Njonjo, alcohol will not give you abundant life. Only Jesus can. And the only way you can experience this life is if you give your life to Christ. Would you like to receive Christ as your Lord and Saviour?" Mahinda asked.
I was ready to do anything. Giving my life to the Lord was a small price to pay to avoid suspension. So, with all the holiness I could muster, I told Mahinda that I had actually been contemplating salvation for quite some time now, and God must have sent him to pray for me. And pray he did, earnestly but softly so as not to disturb the other junior boys that were already asleep. I myself was drifting in and out of sleep throughout the prayer, not paying much attention, only being relieved that I was off the hook. Except of course, if Lenaola decided to take the matter forward.
In the event, Lenaola called me aside the following day after lunch and told me that although it was his duty to report our drunken behaviour to the authorities, he had decided to let it go on condition that we promised that it would be the last time it would happen. I promised profusely and the matter rested there.
The Bible says that the word of God does not return to him void, neither do prayers said in sincerity of heart. I got saved in jest that night to avoid suspension, but God did not relent in pursuing me. I believe that Mahinda's faithfulness in praying for this wayward junior boy and Lenaola's magnanimous forgiveness sowed a seed that would slowly but surely germinate inside my heart. Seven years later, in January 1991, that seed was ripe for harvest and I gave in to the charm of the Holy Spirit as I invited Jesus Christ into my heart to be Lord and Saviour of my life. I have never looked back...
My testimony as to how the Lord finally caught up with me can be found here:
http://njonjomue.blogspot.com/2011/11/just-as-i-am.html
It was show time again. The Nairobi International Show, that is. The year was 1984 and I was in Form 4. As usual, there were several bus trips ferrying students from Bush to Jamhuri Park and everyone had to be on their assigned trip on either of the two buses - the new school but whose registration number I forget, and the old faithful loaf-shaped KMG. We had connived to be assigned to the last trip out of school, because that also meant that we would be on the last trip to leave the Show.
For us, the show was not about ogling at exhibitions of new products or friesian cows as they competed for first prize, after all, we had dropped Agric as a subject at the end of Second Form. Instead we spent part of the morning watching acrobatics at the tattoo ground while waiting for the real show to start - the disco at Namis Club which was graced by Maroon Commandos live band.
I was particularly popular with my buddies around show time because I had an uncle who was an officer in the army. I would take my buddies to the officers' mess at the show ground and ask to see him, hoping that he was actually not in. If he happened to be in, we would go in and say hi and he would buy us lunch and we would be on best behaviour as we ate great food and drank coke and fanta. But if he happened not to be in, then we would lie that he had asked us to wait inside for him, and as soon as we were let in, we would cover our school uniform in jackets or sweaters that we had carried, sit at a corner and order beer at greatly subsidized prices. Thus the afternoon was spent making merry courtesy of the Kenyan armed forces.
On this particular day, my uncle thankfully happened not to be around and we spent most of the afternoon drinking duty free alcohol. When we felt sufficiently drunk, we went off to dance the evening away. But we had to be careful not to miss the last bus to school which we calculated would leave from the pick up point at a Petrol Station at Dagoretti Corner at about 9 p.m.
All too soon, it was time to go and we staggered merrily to Dagoretti. Thankfully, we found the bus just about to leave. We hopped on singing our hearts away but no sooner had I sat down than I noticed Isaac Lenaola sitting soberly on the same bus and I knew we were in trouble. You see Isaac was the Junior Library Prefect and straight as a rail. He was also a Christian. We were not as close as we later became and I fully expected that he would certainly take this matter forward. I sensed a suspension coming my way.
When we got to school, my friend and drinking mate, Adongo Adeya, insisted on holding my hand to escort me to my dorm despite his being equally drunk. We both caused quite a scene as we staggered from the parade ground past the grave yard and the Grieve Library towards Sellwood House. Little did we know that Mahinda Macharia, the Chapel Prefect who was the Senior PoD that week had caught sight of us.
No sooner had I slipped into bed in Dorm 21A than Mahinda walked in. "Njonjo, have you been drinking?" he asked with fatherly concern. "I had a few sodas with some friends from Lenana," I lied. "And it seems like they put something in my soda because, although I don't know how it feels like to be drunk, I am feeling a bit funny."
Mahinda proceeded to tell me how bad drinking was. He was more concerned about the state of my soul than the fact that I had broken a cardinal school rule. "You are a good boy with a great future ahead of you," he said. "Satan knows that and he is not happy. You see, the thief comes to steal, to kill and to destroy, but Jesus came that you may have life abundantly. Njonjo, alcohol will not give you abundant life. Only Jesus can. And the only way you can experience this life is if you give your life to Christ. Would you like to receive Christ as your Lord and Saviour?" Mahinda asked.
I was ready to do anything. Giving my life to the Lord was a small price to pay to avoid suspension. So, with all the holiness I could muster, I told Mahinda that I had actually been contemplating salvation for quite some time now, and God must have sent him to pray for me. And pray he did, earnestly but softly so as not to disturb the other junior boys that were already asleep. I myself was drifting in and out of sleep throughout the prayer, not paying much attention, only being relieved that I was off the hook. Except of course, if Lenaola decided to take the matter forward.
In the event, Lenaola called me aside the following day after lunch and told me that although it was his duty to report our drunken behaviour to the authorities, he had decided to let it go on condition that we promised that it would be the last time it would happen. I promised profusely and the matter rested there.
The Bible says that the word of God does not return to him void, neither do prayers said in sincerity of heart. I got saved in jest that night to avoid suspension, but God did not relent in pursuing me. I believe that Mahinda's faithfulness in praying for this wayward junior boy and Lenaola's magnanimous forgiveness sowed a seed that would slowly but surely germinate inside my heart. Seven years later, in January 1991, that seed was ripe for harvest and I gave in to the charm of the Holy Spirit as I invited Jesus Christ into my heart to be Lord and Saviour of my life. I have never looked back...
My testimony as to how the Lord finally caught up with me can be found here:
http://njonjomue.blogspot.com/2011/11/just-as-i-am.html
Masterpiece!
ReplyDeleteThis is a great piece of work. Made my day
ReplyDelete