It was on a Friday, and it was a prize giving day. We had managed to spruce up the entire place, which was spotlessly clean. The dining hall was out of bounds, parents would eat there after the prices have been awarded.
On that day, like any other special day held at Kapserere Highland Academy, food was served outside. Ordinarily, we would queue based on classes, with the senior pupils coming last. But not that day: the excitement in the air meant that anyone could fetch their ten o’clock tea at any time.
And because nature was in charge of excitement, the wife to our sponsor (before the name sponsor got its current rap) was serving. The cooks had a CCTV camera like keenness, so rewinding tea for that an eighth of bread was not worth it. But today it was.
A couple of my friends who looked up to me especially on non-academic matters urged me to join the line again. I wouldn’t be noticed, they said. I believed them. We’ would split the proceeds a third. Someone would take the tea, and two others would split an eighth of a bread equally. Bread was gold back then.
Unbeknown to me, a cook named James had spotted me in the queue before. Immediately I picked that tiny morsel he called me aside and said that he had seen me serve before. Trouble began there. He called the caterer and told her about my misdemeanour.
The no-nonsense caterer who once threatened to report anyone who did not thank the cooks after being served marshalled me all the way to a dreaded teacher, Mr Ogeto. He was the head teacher and would flog you mercilessly. I remember a term he once used: "you will regret the day you were born, the one who bore you and the canal you passed".
“Mwalimu huyu anatusumbua,” the caterer, as if performing a noble duty to mankind, told Mr Ogeto.
The teacher unusually postponed my beating, instead straightened my collar and asked me to come in the evening after the ceremony. My goose was cooked. The entire school began to whirl, turning the decorated tents into a distant blur. My buttocks regretted my moment of recklessness, as my mind worked overtime.
If I could extend time, I would definitely have done that day. It moved far much quickly that a usual day. The ceremony was over before I knew. Mr Ogeto bagged several prices from excited parents who had no idea of how he flogged us.
In the evening, I trooped to his office where I was given a healthy dose of the cane. I can decidedly say that I regretted the day I was born.
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