When we parted ways here last week, I had just bought anointing oil from Apostle Reverend Elkana, the principal reverend spiritual superintendent of The Holiest of All Ghosts (THOAG) Tabernacle Assembly, anointing oil to protect me from evil spirits and so that God (through Apostle Elkana) could fight my battles.
A good number of people laughed at me, some even branding him a con pastor. I almost had my doubts had it not been for the fact that on Sunday, the Apostle passed by my place for lunch. He strengthened me with the word, particularly when he reminded me that for God to fight for me, I needed to have faith.
When I went to school on Monday, it was with a lot of faith in God, and commitment not to fight anyone. On Tuesday, I arrived at school at around 8.40am. As the deputy, I always arrive at school at 7am. But I arrived at 8.40am to avoid any conflict with Kuya over morning duties. But if I had thought that arriving after the morning cleaning session would help me avoid conflict, I was wrong.
“I see you are arriving now. So, who is in Class 7?” asked Kuya as soon as I entered the staffroom.
“You have, Dre, and it is important that we all teach despite our titles.”
Just then, Lena, her bad hair in tow, stormed the staffroom, fuming.
“Yes there were some changes in the timetable,” said Kuya. “I thought you people complained last week? I adjusted accordingly.”
“But you should have notified us,” said Lena angrily. “What’s this nonsense of changing a timetable without telling everyone? This is not a house menu that a wife changes without informing the husband!”
I wanted to chime in angrily but I remembered the counsel of Apostle Elkana. So, I calmly said, “I did not have class at 8am today when I left here yesterday.”
“That’s not an excuse, Dre,” retorted Kuya. “If anyone has read the TSC regulations, then you know you should be in school by 8am to 5pm daily.” He went on: “Teaching is not a shift job and teachers don’t just come to school for lessons.”
“That’s not what I meant, sir,” I said. He couldn’t hide his happiness at being called ‘sir’.
“I get you. Just make sure that before you leave, you have made up for that lesson,” he said then left for class.
“Don’t leave before you do a makeup class for Class 7,” he texted me after he had left school at 3pm.
I knew that the only option I had was evening preps. Immediately the games bell rang, I was in Class 7. But it was a session just for storytelling. Everyone else left us in school.
As I was busy teaching, I heard a motorcycle enter the school. From the rickety, tired sound, it was Kuya’s. I knew he was coming to confirm if I was in class. He stopped near the classroom and disembarked. The next thing we heard were screams for help from him.
Three students and I rushed there. Kuya was lying down and in great pain. I thought a snake had bitten him.
Kuya had stepped into a hole as he disembarked from his motorcycle and twisted his ankle. He was in a lot of pain and it was with great difficulty — and sobs from him — that we removed his shoes.
I called Nyayo and we took him to Mwisho wa Lami Dispensary, where he received some first aid that involved “burning” injured parts with hot water. Kuya wailed loudly as this was done. Methylated spirit and some Vaseline were also applied.
The nurse, Mildred, a former student of mine who got 119 marks in 2018, then tied some bandages around the ankle before giving Kuya some Actals and malaria tablets.
“This is a spine tissue injury. Only Kakamega General can handle,” she said.
With great difficulty, Nyayo and I took Kuya to his home and arrangements were made for him to go to the general hospital the next day.
I needed no calculator to know that Kuya will be away for some time. And with Bensouda away, just like that, I was back in charge.
Who was saying that God doesn’t fight battles for His people? I may not have a godfather in TSC, but I have God, the father, who fights my battles. Praise His name!
