Cameroon;the Anglophone crisis

Steve Biko said,"The most potent weapon of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed".
Colonization wasn't evil because we were enslaved,displaced, tortured, raped and murdered in our ancestral land, rather that our minds were conquered forever.
In Cameroon there is a crisis between Anglophone Southwest and francophone government of the despot Paul Biya. The then German Kamerun was handed over to France and Britain(Southwest and Northwest),after the defeat of Germany in WWI. In 1961 Nortwest Cameroonians joined federation of Nigeria while southwestern became part of Le Republique du Cameroon on the promise of being treated equally. All governments of independent Cameroon have however reneged on promises made to the anglophone southwest.
  Public documents are printed in French with no English translation as do other matters of state. For over fifty years these citizen have treated like second class because nature's rule (the advanced society must conquer the less) hence colonization.
It's embarrassing that a people of one race are fighting over the language of the oppressor. The fathers of independent Africa really failed us big time,they never picked any of our languages to be official for the continent. Too busy looting and assassinating opponents! In Canada anf the US there are French speaking states and run their governments without conflicts with the rest of the country, so Cameroonians should go back to the original federal republic,become bi lingual or separate.

Death of Nyamwezi the Watchman

             

There was a time when being a security guard wasn’t considered a job or work, you were just a security guard. My bad, the name wasn’t fancy either you were a Watchman! You could not hear of anyone who worked as a guard.it was such a downtrodden and undermined activity and so was its association. Ask anyone their occupation and one would answer, “Well, I am a farmer” and may be add “but in the evenings I do look over that school”. That was before the security and courier services firm G4S came into the country and made being a watchman a thing.

Nowadays watchmen attend some kind of training, have fancy uniforms and get paid through a bank! After all they are no longer watchmen but security guards or ‘solders’, men and women alike. You ought to even have attained some level of education and has the qualms to introduce yourself as having a career in a big security company headquartered in Nairobi. Back in the day especially in upcountry only schools and coffee factories were guarded, in most cases only at night.  The work wasn’t liked could be because one was only armed with a club, a bow and arrows and a machete against better armed thugs , no uniforms or had had handouts instead of salaries in  some godforsaken institution  that never valued him enough to build a shack to shield himself during the rains. That such a job never attracted young men or women of any ages isn’t a wonder. The characters were men in their fifties, sixties and above, mostly as a side hustle and not a full time job.

In Meru School were had four or so watchmen, they worked in shifts of two at night and two during the day. The work in the day shift entailed checking vehicles, attending to visitors and more importantly checking in or out students who were either suspended, expelled, sent away for school fees or out to do some shopping or ‘shopping’. ‘Shopping’ meant just being out and about in town checking out the ladies (more of ogling than checking out) at Uchumi Supermarket entryway, going to Wind View pub to imbibe some third generation concoctions or burning a music Compact Disk. The movie shops were making such kill then, imagine music CDs were burning at between Ksh 150 and 200 and movies were more expensive my buddy Kimto bought the Lord of the Rings at Ksh 350. It was in 2005 therefore that like Ksh 1,500 in 2018, damn expensive! There were guys who were out every weekend doing that shit but I never mastered the guts to seek that permit, I was a mischievous but shy boy. 

Enough! Back to Nyamwezi, he was among the four watchmen I can at least recall by name in Meru School. In the company of Ngatia, Boss and the other guy who had sideburns, Nyamwezi stands out because of his character a mean cold-hearted son of a bitch! You see the watchman on duty had the responsibility of opening and closing all the eight dormitories as well as ensuring nobody was hiding in the dorms before he closes them or anywhere else in building during assemblies, preps, class time or the stupid weekend challenge. I despised morning assemblies and weekend challenges so I would hide in my dormitory Njuuri Ncheeke alias Barracks before it is closed or in the vast ceiling of the Multipurpose Hall. The lanky Nyamwezi had an eye for details and he caught me almost every time in hid in the dorm and had had somebody spread my bed while lied in it as a disguise. He was not fooled by that time old trick, the best bed for it was a spring’s one but it would also sag and Nyamwezi’s eagle eye would always spot it. Once caught Nyamwezi was so uncompromising, no amount of pleas, bribes or threats would stop him from dragging you to the ‘Office’.  Save for the papers and not knowing anyone that watchman could probably have made the best Anti-corruption Commission chair Kenya has ever had.

 Now my crew of mischievous boys had grown tired of having the best of six regularly courtesy of Nyamwezi. We had to teach him a lesson. We were big boys now in form three and there was no way in hell a mere watchman could make our lives more miserable than the Snakes (prefects and captains) and Mr. Ithinji the deputy principal were already.  So sometime around the June of 2007 a bunch of very nutty boys met at the cubicle of the Sports prefect Cos Kavinda at 9:45 pm to plot how to bell this cat. We gathered Intel about the rounds he makes at night, to where and at what time. It was discovered that Nyamwezi ate his supper at 2100 hrs. And spend an hour dozing off near a fire. Beating him up was extreme. The following day in the evening at around ten minutes to ten the considered criminal gang of seven or so boys walked out of evening preps for varies reasons but with a single mission Nyamwezi! We fetched water in ten metallic buckets, three in soil and ballast in two and ended towards the kitchen area where the enemy would be warming himself by the fireplace in the kitchen annex. The intel was reliable and the operation a go. Unceremoniously Nyamwezi was hit by a cocktail of bucketful after bucketful of cold water, soil and ballast, for a minutes or two the poor broke tasted the wrath testosterone raging teenagers. Before our victim could gather his composure we ditched the buckets and run toward the classes, fortunately the end of preps bell rang at 2200 Hrs so we joined the crowd ending to sleep. In the morning I was very attentive in the assembly since I knew we couldn’t get away with crime. We had assaulted a watchman who was famed for noting visogos (what the heck is the English for that part of the head anyway?) not facial appearances only.  

That the case was not mentioned was a surprised and we thanked our lucky stars for it, but I guessed it was because Nyamwezi had too many enemies and the timing was ingenious, many boys would end out minutes to ten so that by the time the bell ran they were at their dorms’ doors.  However he caught a nasty cold and had to take a week’s leave. It happened that the snitch suffered from Diabetes and later that year dead while at home. Rumours spread like Ebola virus that attack by the gang was the real cause of his passing on. It became one of those indisputable legends and myths in a schools in spite of facts proving them contrary. That dude could have died anyway attacked or not. In the words and voice of William Ruto let me state without fear of contradiction the gang had nothing to do with this death, Nyamwezi paid the wages of his uncompromising snitch habit I the ambush and mother nature is trying to kill us every damn day till we die.

I know there are folks especially in the #Classof08 who hold the shit true. Anyone who believes the legend that we anyway accelerated the demise of Nyamwezi then he ought to be one of the many who believes the far from true miracles Mrs. Ntoiti the C.U patron was fond of telling on Monday mornings. “Boys on Friday I prayed to the lord and said do not let the disco near my home which is spoiling young people go on. And there was a black out all weekend long. My lord is faithful and answers players, so don’t joke when I say the C.U music system is cleansed by the blood of Jesus and can’t play dirty songs. You try it!”

DREAMS

                                                            

                                          Image courtesy of www.mindsolutions.com

A simple definition of a dream is Imaginary events seen in the mind while sleeping.

 We all have or still experience these events that seem so real yet uncontrollable. And that I have no power at all to determine my actions, of others or the surroundings of my dreams is the worse feeling always.

What really causes dreams is a question that has troubled humanity for ages. Of course there is the scientific explanation of the mechanisms that happens in the brains to make one dream. But what determines what dream one is going to have that night or moments he falls asleep is what bothers me more. I have heard some say that we dream of what or who we think about the most, our fears or wishes of things to happen. I cannot completely disagree with this theory because to some extent it is true but it doesn’t always hold.

Uncountable times I have had dreams that are not things or people I think about the most, my fears or wishes.

Looking at my dreams for years now, say more than ten perhaps what in the words of  the late author and academic Francis Imbuga should bother my solitary mind is Why is venue of my dreams almost always ABC Boarding or Meru School ? My primary and high schools. In fact I have more dreams in the classroom where I sat for my KCPE that any other place. Well, at times they touch on the football field and the assembly ground.

I cannot deny that the two places are where happy times in my school life happened. The worse times being the university and my first primary school Muruugi the worst. My happiest moments have been after school and it baffles me how comes the portion of them in my dreams is very minor?

The characters that feature aren’t exclusive, rather from school and life thereafter. There are many times I see myself in ABC Boarding seated on the first desk on any of the three rows in Class 8 surrounded by former classmates, random people or friends. Usually I am in civilian clothes, a grown up and no teacher is in class! Each classroom at the time had pupils seated in three desk rows, Row A, B and C. 

This Friday I dreamt walking into Class 8 room in the company of my cousin Tembe, for some reason he was the small boy I once knew rather than the lad he is now. I sat on the first desk in Row B and him on the Teachers’ chair. Some guys started harassing him as it was norm in school when a student of a lower class walked into the Big Boys classroom. The class was full and it was difficult to tell who all these people were but there weren’t the teenage boys and girls of fourteen years ago, rather grown up men and women, mostly strangers. The faces I could make out were those of former primary school classmates and childhood friends: Peter Mwenda A.KA Robot, Kelvin Kirimi and the late Mugambi Magambo. 

All over a sudden, there was a commotion at the back of Row B, a woman had lost her phone. She walked to her friend in the middle of the Row A and said, “I suspect the thief is in this room, please call my number”.  She was right, we heard a phone call ring at the back. Weird enough the thief was wearing a mask but as soon as we dragged him out the room I could tell who he was. It was Ndereba, we joined school same day in January of ’94 and studied together until ’97 December when I left for St Theresa primary and later ABC Boarding. I hadn’t seen this former classmate for twenty years until I bumped into him two months ago at the local market of Kamurita. He is like me, facial appearances have never changed. We didn’t talk a lot about the twenty years, in fact it merely an exchange of greetings. I can say it is because it was about to rain but I am not much of a talker either.  We dragged Ndereba to some kind of holding cell that looked a replica of Baghdad cell in Thika Police Station.

On the way we met with Chui, a guy who fell victim to the torture and humiliation of class repetition for years back in Muruugi primary school because teachers thought he was smart enough to proceed to the next class. He is also one of those people you will almost never know their names because their nicknames are more popular. What transpired during the meeting is unclear.

 I am walking towards Assembly ground and see Mr. Kariuki who was the deputy head teacher coming towards us. He is carrying curuba cia miraa, miraa/khat bundles, psyched up I pick a bundle from the starch and start chewing. As I join others who are already assembled, I sight a familiar face, Denno alias Mungi. The smile is similar to the one he breaks into when he sees me walk into our local joint Club Vanity Thika at half past eleven or minutes to midnight on weekends. He’s usually seated on the second table killing invincible mosquitoes and betting, cheek-full of the recreational herbs and downing Guinness. Whether he smiles at my right check which more protruding than his because the taxin (while chewing miraa one chews as he/she stores some contents in the cheeks, it’s like a cud by ruminants), my  gaping eyes am not sure. Then I ….Fish! Why are dreams always incomplete? I never get to the very end. Somebody had called me or was calling me or was about to call on my phone. On checking my phone I realized I had two missed calls and two messages.

Coincidentally it is usually my friend Daniel Mwenda alias Mwenda O Miti, the Agro Forrester who is calling. This guy is guilty of the felony of killing my dreams for the better of this year, he has been waking me up mid-dreams. It’s for good reasons I should add. He is a good chap though, very jovial and good at his profession of designing and writing farm management proposals. We get along well on many things apart from politics. His criticism of Raila Odinga for no clearly explained reason has never settled well with me and my Atheism with him. The fellow claims he stopped reading the Fifth Columnist Philip Ochieng on Daily Nation years ago when he wrote of his non-belief in the existence of a super natural being. Ha-ha!! As a matter of facts we started out as political nemesis three or so years ago at Gwa-Kianja veve base (a miraa vending shop) but as it’s said in politics there are No Permanent Friends or Enemies. What more we live in the information age, it is wise not to let political affiliations, ideologies or religious inclination get in the way of doing that which makes life better. Cheers bro, I look forward to your call killing my next dream.