Following the debacle of Pius staying with Honda and Sospeter, and then dispatching them to Mwisho wa Lami without any gift (even a packet of toothpicks), and his insistence that I have to pay for their fare back home, we have not been talking.
He never called to check if the kids arrived, and I did not bother to call back, so when I received a missed call from him last week, I thought it was a joke. My plan was to ignore him, but the next day, I found another missed call from him, so I decided to call back.
“How is Mwisho wa Lami doing?” he asked. I told him we were okay but asked him why he never bothered to check if the kids arrived.
“If there had been a problem, or if they did not arrive, I would have known,” he said dismissively, then went ahead to add that it was my responsibility to inform him that I had picked them, not his.
“Anyway, I was asking how the school is doing, is everyone safe?” he asked. I wondered why he was asking that.
“I heard all HM in western schools are being chased away by parents and locked out of the school for non-performance,” he said. I was surprised to hear this, for he implied that we had not performed well. I told him off, saying, “I know we were not the best, but we were not the worst, and the drop from the previous year’s KCPE was not big.”
I told him no one had attacked us, no one had evicted us. “We do not have performance issues; we even had a 100 per cent transition to secondary school, very few schools managed that.”
“I hope it stays so,” he said, then disconnected. I must have spoken too soon, for the next morning, I left early and went to Kakamega. While here, I received several missed calls from Anita and Alex. I had been in a meeting at the TSC offices.
“Ni kubaya,” said Alex. I asked why. “So many parents have gathered at the school; they are carrying all manner of twigs and placards and shouting.”
Alex could only identify Nyayo; he said all the others were unknown to him. “They have written several teachers to go. Kuya, Saphire, Anita, and Nzomo. I do not know what these teachers have done.” I remembered the words of Nyayo the previous day when we had met at Hilton. He had asked me what I would be doing the next day, and I told him that I would be going to Kakamega.
“That’s fine, whatever you do, don't be in school,” he had said. I had not understood then. “They are coming to the staffroom!” Alex called me, scared. Nzomo and Anita were also calling. I did not know what to do, given how far I was.
I tried calling the chief, but he did not pick. I was not surprised why he did not pick. His son had been a student here the other year, and he kept on coming to check on his son and us. And he had this habit of correcting everything we did; I doubt there is anything he thought we did well. Fed up with him, I had told him to mind his business and keep off the school. “If you do not think this is the right school, you can take your son elsewhere,” I had said.
He transferred his son, and we have never talked since then. So I was not surprised that he did not pick my calls, for I knew he must have known about the attack, perhaps even before they happened. I also called the MCA, who did not pick as well. I have never been his friend since he thinks I am more popular than him, and he believes that if I contested, I would beat him. He has no idea that I have no interest in his office; if I were to contest, I would go for the MP's position.
But there was no time to think, for Nzomo, Anita, and Alex were calling me incessantly, afraid for their lives. There was only one person I could think of: Dr Apostle Overseer Elkana, the Revered Spiritual Superintendent of THOAG (The Holiest of All Ghosts) Tabernacle Assembly
“You didn't want to call me to pray for candidates, but now that parents are complaining about poor performance, you need my help, right?” was his first question. He must have known of the plans.
“No, I did not refuse you; it is the Deputy who brought a new priest, and you know that.”
“That deputy of yours should never be in Mwisho wa Lami!” he said. I told him I was in Kakamega to push for Kuya’s transfer. He seemed satisfied and agreed to go to the school to calm the irate crowd. “On condition that the boy never steps in this school again.”
In the meantime, the three teachers, who were the only ones in school, had locked themselves up in my office, watching this through the window.
“They are now shouting Kuya must go!” Alex texted me. I told them to relax; I was sorting the matter. Like he had promised, Apostle Elkana arrived in school within minutes and calmed down the irate parents. The teachers were still scared and refused to come out. The students, on their part, were excited and had left classes to join the protestors.
“Apostle Elkana is addressing them,” Alex sent a text. I asked him to tell me what Apostle Elkana was saying. He told me that Elkana had told them that the school's problem was the deputy, and they should not worry as I was in Kakamega to look for his transfers.
“Aende kabisa! Kuya must go, Kuya asirudi hapa!” some parents had shouted this, Alex told me.
“You can ask the teachers to get out of the offices,” Apostle Elkana told me when he called to report that he had calmed the situation.
Kuya called me within half an hour. Of course, I did not pick. Then he started sending me a barrage of WhatsApp messages. “I hear you are in Kakamega to move me to another station and have incited the parents to attack me. I want to tell you that you will not manage.” I later responded to tell him that I had only said so to calm down the parents. He told me that he would be going to the police station to report that his life is in danger and to get a transfer. That will be great, for no one wants him in this school!
