Bullied

Culture shock hit me immediately. It was no longer girls only and being center of attention. 

There were boys now who were rowdy and bullies. Their games were intense and so the girls played alone most of the time. The students too were from well off families and would carry nice snacks for break. During lunch hour, some were brought for lunch from home by their parents or house helps. Usually I would be given lunch money and that meant that during lunch hour I go out of the school compound and buy food for my niece before I come back and take my nephew home.  

I realized I was not alone and made friends with those in the same ‘life class’ as I was in. In my previous class, there were boys who were bullies. It seemed like they were just born to harass others, particularly me! In fact the more I tried befriending them, the more they bullied me. I was now on the other side of the fence, not the bully but the bullied. One time one of the boys found me sitting on his sit as I chatted with a friend. Instead of requesting politely, he pulled me out of his sit using my ear, making my earring to come off. I had to find that earring or my sister would kill me. Another time, as I was going home with a friend, there was a group of like 4 boys (the bullies) behind me. They started hulling insults at me and throwing stones with no apparent reason. What!!! Of course they hurt me on the leg which started bleeding so I had to run for my life. I didn’t mention any of these to my sister because home was not any better.

I have always had this lovely forehead, but growing up it was not so lovely because it was an excuse for the bullies to joke around and make fun of me. They would call it all sorts of names, like a landing ground for flies, or when I turn a corner the first thing they see is the forehead. It made me hate it completely but I could do nothing about it. Sometimes they would hit me and giggle away. I do not understand myself sometimes because at no point did I hold it against them. I would still say hi to them. I guess I wanted acceptance. Just when I thought going back a class would bring freedom, they still harassed me on the corridors or the playground when we met. 

I made new friends now and decided to settle because being angry at my sister did not change anything. My mother could not say anything because she was so far and there were no mobile phones to call her and vent but I took them to the Lord in prayer.

New School

I liked my new school. Since I was from an all girls’ school, I was surprised to see this school with both genders. The students were so many compared to my previous school. My class had an average of 50 pupils and 3 classes per stream so that’s an average of 150 students in a particular grade. The playground was big enough to accommodate us all. It was a staunch catholic school so the headmistress was a Nun (Sister). The church was a stone throw away so we went for mass services every so often.

The rules were strict and thus the overall performance of the school was top notch. Competition was stiff, so as much as the students played a lot, they also delivered good grades. I passed my interview to join in class 5 and continue. I loved my class mates and made friends very quickly. My niece, Susan’s firstborn daughter was 2 classes behind, that is class 3 and my nephew in baby class. For my first year in school my sister did not buy me a new uniform and so I wore my niece’s. It was quite evident because of the length of the dress. So embarrassing it was!

My performance in class for that year went appreciating and by the 3^rd term (semester), I was number 15 out of an average of 48 to 50 students. From a school where I used to be number 4 out of 18 to 20 students, it was understandable but not to me. So I knew I was to work even harder. My sister was not convinced so she decided to make me repeat that class. I will never forget that day when the teacher came to class 6 and announced that I should take my books and go back to class 5. I think a part of me died that day. My self esteem, my morale, my friends, all gone with the wind. I remember that day, I stood up, took my bag and as I left my classmates called me and waved goodbye and the teacher who announced, escorted me back to my previous class. It was disheartening. 

Only later to overhear my sister saying that she made me repeat classes because she did not want me to be too far off from the daughter who was now just 1 class behind me.

I used to take my nephew home over lunch hour then I commute back to class. Our place was not near so I would always be late for the afternoon classes.

The Beatings, Season 1

There was another side of my sister that I came to know. She was very violent and her disciplinary measures were intense. She would beat me up senseless if I erred. Grace eventually joined me and we were together through it all. I can’t remember my first whooping but I remember the serious ones.  By now my mum had retired and had settled in up country where she built her house. We would visit her every time schools closed which would be a big relief and time to rest.

Apart from this super spiritual side of Susan, she had a bad temper meaning if you annoyed her, she would grab the nearest thing that can hurt you and hit you with it. She later advanced and settled for a water pipe cut out into a cane for serious beatings. That thing was painful! 

On one occasion, I was fast asleep and it was around 6am thereabout. Susan was preparing to go to work. She was a nurse and so she worked in shifts. As she was taking breakfast, she noticed the tea tasted different and seemed oily. After confronting the house help who had made it, I was woken up from bed with a pull and drag on the floor. I was beaten thoroughly like a thief attacked by a mob. My head was held and pushed with all the energy she had which made me land on the cabinet and I hit my whole body, causing me to fall flat on the floor. I started weeping, having in mind that I was still drowsy from sleep and I had no idea why I was being beaten. After I fell, she started shouting the accusations that I had put Kerosene in the tea!! I was in so much shock and disbelief that the tears suddenly disappeared. Apparently the house help had accused me that I had poured Kerosene in the milk while I was putting it in the stove the previous evening. It was a big lie. 

My sister did not want to hear whether it was true or not. She was so mad that I decided I would not even dare defend myself lest I am beaten again. I was later allowed to go back to bed. My body was aching and I could not believe what had just happened.  

I used to go to school with swollen limbs and everyone would stare and ask questions which made me start hating school. One time I got a serious whooping because I was caught beating my nephew. He was a very cheeky boy like any other and since I was the ‘big sister’, I took it upon myself to discipline him when his mother was not around. When she knew I had beaten him, I was beaten until my hair was cut as a sign of punishment. I had just come back from the salon of which she had given me the money to make my hair, and I had found my nephew disobeying and misbehaving. To make matters worse, my other nephew was around. He had been sent by my other sister (Mary) to come see Susan. So he was just in shock as he watched the whole ordeal. I could tell he was traumatized from my beatings but my sister did not care…..

Strange, right?

Susan was very happy to come get me. I would now be a first born from being a last born. Her 3 children were younger than me so I became their ‘big sister’. Since I knew the Lord now, I became very prayerful and read the word often, not mentioning attending all church services. My sister became challenged and she also got saved. I was happy hoping things would be okay now that she was saved. We became committed to a nearby church, joined the choir, went for crusades and even got baptized in that church. 

Now salvation started going to another level that became confusing. Almost every night we would pray fervently and with force trying to cast out demons from all over. We lived in an extension house and the guys in the main house were really shocked.Prayers included lighting candles and putting them in every room, and then we switch off the lights. Everyone was allocated a room to pray in. We were required to bang the doors while praying as a sign of casting out demons. If you were not heard banging the door, you were reminded the hard way, through a beating.

One time I was allocated the bathroom to pray in. I was so sleepy that I blacked out on the floor. I was woken up by a loud knock since we would lock ourselves in the rooms. I woke up with a jump and started praying only to be silenced by a shout to open the door. I tried lying that I was not asleep but my blood shot eyes sold me out. 

We would then congregate in the main room(her bedroom) kneeling with a photo of Jesus and make sure that Jesus’ eyes looked at you then pass it to the next person. Now that I think of it, it was hilarious in a scary way. The day we came to know that the neighbors were also committed church goers, was the day we joined forces. Their father was a pastor in a seventh day church. This made us convert and every Saturday we were in church the whole day.

Our neighbors eventually moved out as they were relocating to the States. We changed churches and resumed to the Sunday service. We started attending a church at the city center. It was different from what we were used to but we adjusted well. No sooner had we gotten new neighbors, than my sister recruited them to our church. I loved this church and I became committed which led to starting a dance team that was unheard of but was embraced well.

Drastic Changes....

I had this ‘boyfriend’ who was the hottest kid in the block :-) His father was a Pastor at a nearby Pentecostal church. Every Sunday we would go to Sunday school which was mostly conducted in their mother tongue (Kikuyu). We did praise and worship in Kikuyu then the word was in Swahili. I became active in that church and joined their dance team. We used to dance in weddings and functions.

One day we were to dance at a crusade, and if I remember well we were also the choir team. This was at the ages between 7 and 9. So after the word, they did the altar call. Half the choir, which was us children, got saved. I knew what I was doing because I understood the choice I was making. When I went home I shared with my mum and sister and they all thought I was crazy. I had a certain joy in me that was unexplainable. That marked the turning point in my life.

A normal day  entailed school then play in the evening and mum comes home and brings for us crisps and pop corns as she talks to us.  My mum was an alcoholic, sad to say, and this was really hard for us. Sometimes we could wait up for her until late because we couldn’t sleep knowing she is out. We would get so worried especially over the weekend. We could sit at the balcony with my sister and look at the route she used until we see her in the dark then get some peace.

I think she tried compensating by bringing nice things to distract us. On this particular night the routine was the same only that she had something to talk about once we have eaten our snacks. She finally gathered courage and got the words to say that she was retiring from her work place and we would have to move to my sister’s (Susan) place. Since Grace was about to sit for her KCPE, 8^th grade exams, she would stay with her till she finished but I was to move immediately. Until today the memory of that day brings tears to my eyes because it was the beginning of my misery. I cried my heart out hoping that she would change her mind but to no avail. It was final.