Boarding School...Am Not Boarding.

I was 8 Years 9 Months when I joined boarding school. A nice well performing school in the heart of Nakuru. Then, the only thing that excited me about going to boarding school was 2 litres of Quencher juice and a 'budget pack' of Manji biscuits as we cruised down from Eldoret to Nakuru in a Peugeot 504. See, I didn't come from a home where I would just go open the fridge and voila! there is juice. There wasn't even a fridge in our home back then. Juice was a preserve of birthday parties and Christmas, and when juice wasn't bought on these occasions it was consumed like medicine, not even the neighbours had a hint. But now I had two litres in my tin trunk, for me and me alone, that made journey pretty pretty long. For a long time it didnt hit me I was going to be left alone,well yes, I was going with my big brother, but our sibling rivalry ensured technically I was going to be alone. On our arrival, all the necessary documents were processed, my brother and I got admission numbers, our respective classes and dormitories. We got our beds made really well and just about then my life in boarding began. We bid our middle aged parents bye, they had the best interest at heart for us. Our Future.

Well for me, NO SOONER THAN they had left, the Orange diluted Quencher was hitting my mouth. I ripped the budget pack open and I had an assorted brand of biscuits looking at me, Christmas of 1997 came in May. Biscuits tasted like never before, no hungry friends beckoning from all over, "nipee haki woiye nipee" like  the previous government school I was in. None! The supper bell rang and we were all driven to the dining hall with two cane wielding teachers. Mr Kariuki aka Karis and Mr Maina. Their cane whipping techniques were dreaded and were discussed in hashed tones among pupils. That evening we had  poorly done Ugali and boiled Kales. I struggled through the whole meal. Announcements followed that our foodstuffs(my dear juice and biscuits) were to be finished within a week. The final day of finishing was branded, FINISHING DAY (I bet the teacher who came with that was very creative). For the whole of the entire life in boarding school, my juice didn't last three days and so did the budget pack. What did you expect?

Within a week, life got tough, no food stuffs like biscuits, by this time, we had one slice of bread for breakfast with some whitish baige over diluted liquid thing they called tea. Supper was a constant of Ugali and boiled kales. The only exciting on the menu, was Sunday's lunch chapati. Which, as many boys would do, is fold it, put it in your pocket, to be devoured later under the covers of your blanket during the after lunch Sunday siesta. Well that was just food. As a young boy I came with baggage.

In my ealry life, I was a bedwetter and so were many other kids in junior dormitory. There were those Ligi Ndogo bedwetters and Ligi Soo bedwetters. Like one guy Orenge, a serious Ligi Soo bedwetter. I was in Ligi Soo and I didnt sleep far from Mr Karis's cubicle. On my first night, I wet my bed, i took it out to dry and so did a huge class five boy called Charles*. My mattress was thicker than his and as events later had it, he swapped his with mine, I ended up with a thin mattress with flowers, it was so thin I could feel the mesh on the bed if slept at a particular spot for long. As my bed wetting would have it, and my mattress not assisting, Mr Karis would wake up to River Nile every morning and I would wake up to some serious whipping for my biological dysfunctions. So I had to wake up earlier than him, dry the river Nile, squeeze to the corner of the drier side of bed and catch some of the sweet morning sleep. Some pupils, in the same class were lucky to have had matured bladders by then, and they walked in their matured-bladder clicks, talked matured-bladder stories and walked in matured-bladder bounce, sometime they would be wikileaks of the class telling girls of the boys who wet their beds. Well the River-Nile drying click had gotten used to it to a point, it was not shame but just order of life. Our friendships were bound by our biological tribulations.

I had my moments, I was among the clever kids in class, I was revered in some subjects. The school, had one big day for announcing results called RESULTS DAY(Damn that teacher knew how to name occasions, how creative?). Every soul would be in attendance even the dogs of the school because of the smell emanating from the Kitchen. Top performing pupils would be rewarded, with nothing but GOOD FOOD. Chicken, sausages, pilau, soda, chapatis. I read for food, I performed for food. The high table of results day had a spot for me, I rarely missed.

Then came the whipping. I wished we were whipped with pipes, or sticks but we were whipped with a fan  belt. A black hard rubber. The first time I got a taste of the fan belt on my butt, was by one Mr. Ongonga, the class 3 Swahili teacher. He gave us homework to write Insha. Coming from a government school and in class 3, I wrote half a page of Insha, little did I know i needed to write two pages. Mr, Ongonga, gave me three of the best, by this time I didnt know the butt clenching technology ,aka "kukaza", that the more experienced boarders were using. Me and one Duncan Ong'oi didnt know that. Boarding school had turned from Quencher loving experience to a fan belt whipping hell.

In boarding, your teacher is not your mother, the teacher has her own kids. You spend 9 months a year, without your parents, with time, boarding schools becomes your home, the food (a slice of bread for breakfast) becomes your home food and that non caring teacher becomes part of your life. Slowly, your siblings you left at home almost become strangers, my small sister at one point didn't know who me and my big brother were. We were strangers visiting after every three months. Do I regret boarding, no, it shaped my character to be whom I am. Tough question though is, forget the tribulations, and assume a perfect, good food, good teachers and nice homely conditions, is it really worth it to take your kids to boarding school for the sake of grades? Well my take is no, you will miss more than half of their early childhood and that is time you will never recover. Will kids succeed despite boarding, yes. Life is not about grinding good grades but developing a successful character from them, and thats a role that is God given and God driven.