THE CHARITY FILM THAT NEVER WAS...
The school hall was packed to capacity. It was a Saturday evening and there was a charity film about to be screened. Acrossians had already arrived and I was busy making calculations as to which chick I was going to hook. Being only a Form 2, and with my sinking skills far from perfect, there was a distinct possibility of floating... and that would be an unspeakable dent to my reputation. But the signs were good. I had already spotted three distinct prospects. The evening was pregnant with possibility. Still, one could never be too sure and I had to position myself strategically within striking distance of my first choice, a fellow Form 2 girl from Macpherson House whom I had met during swimming practice a few weeks before. Things were looking good...
Just at that point, a stream of red skirts and sweaters flowed into the hall. Alas, Loreto Limuru, better known as Reds, had responded to the invitation, which was a rare occurrence for charity films which were usually a Bush-Across affair. If the excitement before had been palpable, it now became downright tangible. Quick re-calculations had to be made among those of us who had loyalties in both schools. There was great potential for trouble... Preoccupied as I was with planning how to avert serious conflict, I failed to notice that the girls from Reds were more than the hall could accommodate. But not for long, for soon the entertainment prefect was on stage making an announcement.
"The hall is filled up and we have to make room for our visitors," he said with a disturbing finality. "All Form 2s, please leave the hall. You will watch the movie tomorrow afternoon."
Was this guy listening to himself?? How dare he pick on Form 2s? Why us and no one else?? Why could Form 4s and Form 6s not be asked to leave? After all they were the ones who needed to study for exams. But of course this would never happen. All students were equal but some were more equal than others. His choice was arbitrary, but it was made. Form 2s were to vacate the hall before the movie could start. But we would not give up so easily. We stayed put pretending he was speaking to someone else and there was a mini stand off until the burly figure of Mr. Tendeka (better known as Breshnev or Brezhi ), the Deputy Headmaster, made its way to the stage.
"Form 2s," he said in his unmistakable Kisii accent. "You will leave the hall immediately." We could argue with the entertainment prefect, but now the Deputy HM had spoken, and his word was law. My heart sunk. Didn't this man not know what damage he was doing to my young heart? Could he not understand that this was the night I might meet my future wife?? This was preposterous! This was turning out to be a disaster of epic proportions, at least to an infatuated 15 year-old boy full of hormones running amok.
Having no option, we filed out of the hall, feeling utterly miserable. Many of us had borrowed pleated trousers and the mandatory brut-faberge cologne. I was even wearing a new pair of boots borrowed from my dorm mate. And now I was headed for Prep?? The rebel in me was sufficiently provoked and as we reluctantly made our way out of the hall under the watchful eye of the Deputy Headmaster, Mr. Tendeka, I started to sing softly "Kazi ya Tendeka, kazi ya tendeka..." Suddenly, all the disenfranchised Form 2s joined loudly and defiantly in our new impromptu freedom song, "Kazi ya huyu shetani yaTendeka..."
The rest of the hall burst into laughter. I was not sure whether they were laughing with us because they found our protest song funny or whether they were laughing at us because we were being expelled from the hall and were going to miss out of all the fun during interval and after the movie. But Tendeka himself was not amused. He huffed and puffed on stage but that did not deter us. We sang all the way to the classrooms. We knew that we would be punished for our impertinence but that was another problem for another day. What mattered to us was that we did not meekly walk out of the hall when asked to leave.
The school hall was packed to capacity. It was a Saturday evening and there was a charity film about to be screened. Acrossians had already arrived and I was busy making calculations as to which chick I was going to hook. Being only a Form 2, and with my sinking skills far from perfect, there was a distinct possibility of floating... and that would be an unspeakable dent to my reputation. But the signs were good. I had already spotted three distinct prospects. The evening was pregnant with possibility. Still, one could never be too sure and I had to position myself strategically within striking distance of my first choice, a fellow Form 2 girl from Macpherson House whom I had met during swimming practice a few weeks before. Things were looking good...
Just at that point, a stream of red skirts and sweaters flowed into the hall. Alas, Loreto Limuru, better known as Reds, had responded to the invitation, which was a rare occurrence for charity films which were usually a Bush-Across affair. If the excitement before had been palpable, it now became downright tangible. Quick re-calculations had to be made among those of us who had loyalties in both schools. There was great potential for trouble... Preoccupied as I was with planning how to avert serious conflict, I failed to notice that the girls from Reds were more than the hall could accommodate. But not for long, for soon the entertainment prefect was on stage making an announcement.
"The hall is filled up and we have to make room for our visitors," he said with a disturbing finality. "All Form 2s, please leave the hall. You will watch the movie tomorrow afternoon."
Was this guy listening to himself?? How dare he pick on Form 2s? Why us and no one else?? Why could Form 4s and Form 6s not be asked to leave? After all they were the ones who needed to study for exams. But of course this would never happen. All students were equal but some were more equal than others. His choice was arbitrary, but it was made. Form 2s were to vacate the hall before the movie could start. But we would not give up so easily. We stayed put pretending he was speaking to someone else and there was a mini stand off until the burly figure of Mr. Tendeka (better known as Breshnev or Brezhi ), the Deputy Headmaster, made its way to the stage.
"Form 2s," he said in his unmistakable Kisii accent. "You will leave the hall immediately." We could argue with the entertainment prefect, but now the Deputy HM had spoken, and his word was law. My heart sunk. Didn't this man not know what damage he was doing to my young heart? Could he not understand that this was the night I might meet my future wife?? This was preposterous! This was turning out to be a disaster of epic proportions, at least to an infatuated 15 year-old boy full of hormones running amok.
Having no option, we filed out of the hall, feeling utterly miserable. Many of us had borrowed pleated trousers and the mandatory brut-faberge cologne. I was even wearing a new pair of boots borrowed from my dorm mate. And now I was headed for Prep?? The rebel in me was sufficiently provoked and as we reluctantly made our way out of the hall under the watchful eye of the Deputy Headmaster, Mr. Tendeka, I started to sing softly "Kazi ya Tendeka, kazi ya tendeka..." Suddenly, all the disenfranchised Form 2s joined loudly and defiantly in our new impromptu freedom song, "Kazi ya huyu shetani yaTendeka..."
The rest of the hall burst into laughter. I was not sure whether they were laughing with us because they found our protest song funny or whether they were laughing at us because we were being expelled from the hall and were going to miss out of all the fun during interval and after the movie. But Tendeka himself was not amused. He huffed and puffed on stage but that did not deter us. We sang all the way to the classrooms. We knew that we would be punished for our impertinence but that was another problem for another day. What mattered to us was that we did not meekly walk out of the hall when asked to leave.
Njonjo this was hilarious! Interesting really I think some of the things that happened in Bush were s just so unique!
ReplyDeleteLoved it! Brought back memories of Boarding school -- preps, horror of floating... could almost see Mr Tendeka and the song cracked me up! You should write a book
ReplyDeleteSo long as "we" had said something we had drawn our swords
ReplyDelete