SOME REPAIR NEEDED?

crying

 

When a woman cries, she cries for real; be it crocodile or cocktail tears. For as long as Kenya has been fighting corruption, I had never seen a lady cry like that; not even the emotional Caroline from the Bold & the Beautiful. So loud yet so musical you would think we were in a kindergarten bus and the teacher was trying to teach music. She cried in pitches, DO-RE-MI-FA-SO-LA-TI-DO-SO-DO-LA-FA-MI-DO-RE-DO (anyone remembers this? Stop lying you are below 22 ha ha).

 

 

It’s either the Kenyan soil or Githurai that has taught Kenyans to mind their own business; EXCEPT when the next person is reading a newspaper or using their phone; that time poking is allowed.

 

Under your watch, a burglar will cut a passenger’s bag; a phone will be snatched and when a lady comes into a matatu crying narrating how all her belongings have been stolen at Githurai; you mind your own business. Is there a clause in the new constitution stating that people should mind their own business? {The old one didn’t have}.

 

 

This lady was crying and all we did was do nothing about it.

 

On my right was this diva; an ideal instagram model: black shades, touch my back blonde weave, denim blue coat and ragged red pants, taking selfies with her infinix hot note something. At some point she got tired of the selfies, took a novel from her giant bag (we use to call them fornication bags), and this crying lady could not let her read in harmony. She kept turning her head in the direction of the woman crying and nkt!-ing. We can all imagine how she squinted her eyes; too bad the black shades kept me from confirming.

 

bag

Notice the bag

 

 

Other passengers looked at her (the crying lady) sympathetically, others thought she was just another attention seeker, and I was there observing to develop a story….ha ha ha.

 

Kama ni fare hana nitamlipia, one lady said.

 

Si huyo anyamaze mtoto alale, another said.

 

Mathy lia kimoyomoyo, the conductor had waited too long to mouth that.

 

And this old chap, finely dressed in a grey suit blended with black eagle-peaked footwear (he must have been headed to a ruracio) felt moved and asked her what the matter was.

 

`Mtoto wangu Marion’ was all she kept saying.

 

 

When I grow young, I wanna be a primary school pupil; that life was just the best. Being a Candi, one had to select the secondary school of choice. It was a major selection; forget the MCA elections. We selected with faith that come the following year, we would land into that dream school. Then, there were district, provincial and national schools. Teachers would tell us to have a target; mine was 449 marks despite the fact that the only time 400 was my friend was once when I was position 59. We were ambitious, very ambitious. The matron would go round the dorm saying `wake up wake up, everybody wake up’ at 4am and we would obey to go sleep in class.

 

My school of choice was Mary hill Girls’; I always saw it on our way to grandma’s place. 3 days after Christmas the results were out and I had scored 360 marks which was just there. My parents were worried I wouldn’t be posted to a very good school; thank God Mahiga girls came through. During our time, marks spoke volumes in which school you were posted. The system was fair and with minimal stains of discrimination between public and private schools. Schools had this kind of CSR where some students from the surrounding public primary schools were given slots regardless of not so good marks; call it giving back to the land.

 

 

lia

 

 

Behind Mama Marion’s tears was the disbelief that her little girl worked hard, scored 395 marks just to be posted to a day school. Yes, day skuru, where you see your parents every day, eat supper at home mostly prepared by you; enjoy your Saturday afternoon in the farm, attend church at your local; and you’re prone to all diseases but homesick.

 

If you thought she is alone, wake up from your 3rd dream. Countless parents are complaining especially those who decided private schools.

 

The system kind of favors the public school pupils. A child will work hard, get 160 marks from a public school and be posted to a county (provicional) school just like that {hivo tu}.

 

 

The criterion being used is bent, one-sided while it dictates equalizing the public and private schools. The private school kids bleed. I can imagine what it took Marion to get 395 marks: wake up at 4am, have a cold shower, extend till late hours, use a torch when Kenya Power was on leave, shave her long hair because it’s a distraction. Imagine the boys she turned down, told them `I’m studying’. She must have sacrificed a lot and look at what the system does to her!!!!!

 

 

If this continues, here is what will happen: corruption will bear countless kids every single day; screw 9months. As these parents of private school kids rush to secure slots at better secondary schools; they have to be Kenyan and buy principals some chai.

 

 

Teachers, parents and pupils in public schools will relax because after all, the system got them covered. Private school students who have worked so hard will pass and the system will throw them into schools unequal to their marks.

 

 

While the system thinks its bettering things, reality will hit when the mean score figure at public schools will not even be enough to buy a packet of milo. Pupils and teachers will have pulled their blankets and wine. And then what becomes of the results? Poorer? I think the Ministry of Education need to do something and better public schools; let them be competitive with the private schools.

 

Something needs to be fixed real quick. Have your say  my people……

 

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