The School of Men

There is stereotype that Luos are proud and headstrong individuals who see themselves as far above other communities in the cadre of ranks-never mind that Forbes or our dear Steadman have not posed the question to some two thousand four hundred respondents for determination. They don’t need their approval-one would say. After all you don’t have to be told that you are bright for you to believe that the one above gave you something between your ears.

The Luos it’s said have a unique and entirely conspicuous way of life. They don’t just do things for the sake of having them done-they do them with a bang. I will not allow myself to be dragged into confirming or denying these allegations not least coz they existed before I was born but because the least said about it the better. Who knows what other Luopeans may to do to me bearing in mind that one good judge of Luo descent recently declared Mr. Omar El Bashir a persona non grata in Kenya. 

But that’s beside the point. If you think these of the Luos I don’t know what you would say of Maseno School alumni. Yes, the lucky man who had the honors of going to the only national school west of the Great Rift Valley. That may not hold weight any more bearing in mind that each county has a national school now. We can however use the ‘we are the original’ line and still eat our cake. The only school that was eligible to participate in provincial fetes at two different provinces-after all neither of the provinces could claim sole custody. You might be wondering why the results got posted under Nyanza. The Luos live there, remember? I remember we used to wake up in the southern hemisphere, go for breakfast in the Northern hemisphere, attend classes in Nyanza province and go for games in western province. No, we didn’t have tuk tuks or boda bodas in school; in case you we beginning to wonder.

But it wasn’t just the physical location at the foot of the Emabungo Hills that gave Maseno the bragging rights. I remember during one instance at the provincial drama festival gala, the provincial director of education made the unforgivable mistake of calling Maseno High school as the overall winners. He was stunned when instead of ululations; the students only looked at each other. His mistake, you guessed it right-Maseno isn’t a high school; it’s just Maseno School.

The list of the great men who passed through the school is boldly embedded in the schools dining hall. Barrack obama is an alumnus of Maseno School! Not Michelle’s husband but Sasha and Malia’s grandpa. Those who went to Maseno School will no tire of telling you how they sat in the classrooms where Jaramogi conceived some of his brilliant ideas. The Rock of Ages, the school chapel is where Tinga was baptized. I won’t mention others like the speaker and myself –you should appreciate am not a proud man.

In Maseno School, there were no boys-only gentlemen who had been refined by the hardest of circumstances to the smoothest of men. I remember during my first assembly, some tall hugely built master gave us a speech on how we were going to be transformed over time. That man as I later realized was the principal and he needn’t do anything to instill fear. He cut the look of an  imposing master and I do remember when he spoke the school was silent save for the occasional quacking of the monkeys.ooh and if I dint say it, the population of monkeys and lizards in the school far surpassed the student population-not that an to be taken seriously of course. No census was done to that effect.

Another thing that a Masenonian (that was how the ladies called us then) couldn’t just let you go without letting you in was the houses-those that you called dormitories in your high schools .I remember the first time I got my admission letter, what I lost for enthusiasm in not getting my first choice Starehe I quickly replaced with the thought that I was to be a resident of Willis House. It sounds exotic, right? That was my first instinct as well .My good brother who in the years before had had the honors of passing through this factory found it amusing. Why he found it so I soon figured out myself and let’s just say it wasn’t a pleasant surprise. It’s true what they say, British sounding names doesn’t necessary translate into palaces.

So here I was an unimpressed tenant of Willis House with the greatest of stories not least among them that the house assembly rests on a tree that has spurn over a century. I remember, the old boys especially the form twos had been compelled to false hospitality. For one term they fetched us water from a huge tank with another fancy name-the Jacobs well and later stole the same water themselves. But if there is an invaluable lesson we learnt was how to survive and live us brothers. 

Nothing spread faster than a juicy story. By the time it made an entire lap; the owner of the story would be impressed by the pool of creative talent. Some of these rumors eventually turned out to be true. Whatever you did, don’t just hog the limelight coz there were hyenas to deal with those who asked to much questions. The student leadership was a powerful force to be reckoned with and remaining in their good books was a ticket to safety. The most frequent threat was,” if you value your jaws…”.This would make sense to you if you realized just what a plate of nyoyo meant. Of course you couldn’t crash the maize and the few beans without a complete dental set!

And now that am talking about food, it is only fair that I let you in on some of the culinary interests that were unique to this chosen few. There were delicacies such as fish and chicken. The latter was served albeit once in a while to motivate the students. As for the former let’s just say that the school procurement officer always missed the big fish and in most cases we had to settle for the smaller version-omena. During those every meal could be successfully paired with bread, mandazis or samosas, be it rice or beans. The value of six bob was 'metronomical’ then .Don’t ask me what that means, am not sure ,I just got it from another article and thought it would do my piece some justice.

 Being broke was a bitch but we devised ways to get by. After all isn’t necessity the mother of invention? We acted as if we just needed an extra bob to purchase these precious commodities and the people with loose change were just eager to be of help. Ten friends each contributing a bob to this noble cause would ensure you have two mandazis sometimes even living more lavishly than the donors. It was however, mutually benefiting as you would be the one doing the coin dropping next time unless of course you were those guys who had ‘fixed’ money any time.

And how could I forget the trips. If there was ever a motivation to be neat then these were. Those who didn’t have the necessary apparel such as ultra white shirts or nice shoes didn’t let this minor inconvenience come between them and the lasses on offer. They either resorted to buying or borrowing. Stealing was of course an offence and being the model students that we were ,we just borrowed from the washing lines and returned it dirty and creased after it had outlived its usefulness .This was referred to as involuntary  temporary borrowing. The other form, permanent borrowing, where an individual kept the ‘borrowed ‘merchandise for eternity was however rare and frowned upon. It went against the basic code of brotherhood. 

This was also a God sent opportunity for juniors (forms 1 and 2) to adorn long trousers. This was believed to   exponentially increase their net value an opportunity they seized with both hands. And if they spotted the same deodorant then your guess is as good as mine. The only thing that could be trusted as genuine in a Maseno man was his face and the brain behind it. Never mind that Baby J Mogz, the hockey maestro enjoyed success in his muddy grey short and his umoja slippers. The skills that he used are however encrypted. I will however seek his permission to release such classified info in my next post.

I remember that we learnt that there wasn’t much we could do about tomorrow; therefore we lived each day to the fullest. I remember we laughed at our common misfortunes instead of mourning over them. I remember the concept of brotherhood –everything save for toothbrushes and undergarments belonged not just to you and your immediate cycle of friends but others you didn’t love as much . Even in the trickiest of circumstances we still found a way out. 

That was Maseno School for you, a school that taught pride and self belief even before the curriculum.