Remembering Teacher
Korir
“Korir’s death would have been avoided if a mganga had been called to
unlock his manhood in time. His bladder was swollen; his abdomen painful and
the members ballooned. That was never to be. He was gone.
BY MUSYOKA
NGUI
On September 26 2011 I
reported to Chuka University College. I was a freshman. Three or so days later,
I received a devastating call from Madam Arogo, a former workmate.
It was on a chilly
morning. I had just stepped out of the Science Complex which was noisy due to
construction going on in upper floors. I walked to the notice board to see
whether they posted any new news.
“Morning Ngui, Korir is
dead”, said Arogo over the phone. The brief delivery of bad news left me
shaken. I got cold.
I’d known Korir personally
and professionally. He struggled with alcohol. He was always in debt. In fact,
he died with many debts including mine. I could not say no to his sweet tongue.
I bought him alcohol yet I never took any myself.
Korir had a particular
charm for ladies. He juggled relationships. I do not recall the exact number of
his girlfriends. He had one in Tseikuru, another in Kyuso, and another in
Mivukoni, another elsewhere. Perhaps he was a polygamist. How he had never
lived to see President Kenyatta sign the Marriage Act.
Soon after we left-the
four form four leavers who took up teaching after graduating-both Kabwere and
Jerry went to Kenya Poly. Kabwere took up Journalism and Jerry Urban Planning.
I went to Chuka for Communication and Media. Then there was Dorcus Mwende who
went to Kenyatta University to read for Special Education.
Korir had ‘lost’ four friends
who went back to school. He was left only with the demoralized, underpaid and
overworked TSC teachers. Us the BOG guys had life. We had money and spent. We
were free. We travelled. We bought clothes and shoes. Korir was embedded in our
entourage. He never lacked beer after class.
The KCSE was about to
happen and as always the KNEC sent invigilators and supervisors to preside over
the life and death duel.
Incidentally, Korir fell
head over heels for the supervisor. The supervisor was loose. Korir was
available. Little did he know that the supervisor was ‘locked’ by his military
husband who perennially away in barracks.
Korir did not waste words. He got her boxed. Unfortunately, the husband
of the supervisor had secured his territory. Korir did not exactly get stuck.
He was able to enjoy the goodies while they lasted. Problem is when he was
done. His manhood started to swell. He was embarrassed to tell anyone. Only his
girlfriend knew the situation was deteriorating. She washed him, clothed him
and nursed him just to see whether he will improve.
Mr. Kinyua delivered
the sad story to the principal, Mrs. Syanda. It was too late. Korir was rushed
to Kyuso by an ambulance. The nurses there did not touch him. They said his
case was advanced so he be transferred to Mwingi. On arrival he was pronounced
dead.
Korir’s death would
have been avoided if a mganga had been called to unlock his manhood in time.
His bladder was swollen; his abdomen painful and the members ballooned. That
was never to be. He was gone.
What saddens me is that
he went rather unannounced. The young Computer Studies teacher had a lot of
promise ahead. He was set to travel to the United Kingdom for an exchange
program with the British Council. Actually, he had befriended a White teacher
who came over during our stint there. She had left money and gifts to him. It
is not for me to question whether it was love or convenience or worse gold
mining but truth remains that Korir’s best days lay ahead. He would have
married the White. He would have taught Computer Science better given the
revamping of the computer lab soon before his demise. The students loved him
and the subject.
Korir was sporty. He
was the Games Master. Every evening he would take the students to the pitch to
play. They exercised. He took them to tournaments. They won, drew and lost. It
was life. He gave his all. On Sundays he would go to Catholic Church. He
indulged in the Mass.
But Korir ran into
trouble too early. He was not lucky. I mean, he would have lasted longer. Critics
claimed there were other badder boys like Jerry who still reigned supreme.
Jerry was a serial star womanizer. He never hid it. In fact, he displayed it.
One Saturday night the police raided his apartment and recovered a school girl
he was romping with. He was arrested, kicked, shaved and locked up. His brother
in law, Twalas, freed him just before his date with the magistrate. Twalas
bribed the police and bought Jerry’s freedom. I guess Korir envied Jerry’s
luck.
A few months before
leaving Mivukoni, my landlord’s son committed suicide by taking rat poison and
cited his mother who is a police officer for being high handed on him. That did not surprise anyone because we saw
it coming. But Korir, no. you get afraid when someone you know and love disappears
permanently.
One rather wild
allegation that I would clear Korir any day is the false claim that he died of
AIDs. It was witchcraft and everybody around him knew it but buried their head
in sand.
Korir was the only guy
who displayed affection like a badge. When his girlfriend bought him a rose on
Valentine, he brought it to the office and lit the red neon lights on the
table-in broad daylight –never mind the difference was the same due to
competition from natural light.
On the day of his burial,
the creditors unashamedly asked to be paid back. They even denied his relatives
the right to take the child he had sired with the girlfriend. May be it was
because he was not one of them. He was a Kalenjin and they were Kambas. With
the entrenchment of tribalism in Kenya, being the other makes you a subject of
hate and isolation-even in death.
Next October will be
your third anniversary since you left us. We have learned from you. You taught
us to live and love. To give our all and never hold back our feelings to
someone we love.
True, boy, you had your
shortcomings. But that is beside the point. Keep smiling down at us from
heaven. Watch over us. We will miss you. We will never forget. We have accepted
and move on. Rest in Peace brother!
The writer is a student of
Bachelors of Arts Degree in Communication and Media at Chuka University. He
blogs at musyokangui.blogspot.com and is an intern at Kenya News Agency Kitui
Bureau
Email your thoughts to
musyokangui02@gmail.com
