All Time Model and Mentor.

I developed the liking towards him long before he came to our school. I used to see him during zonal or regional sports events. Those days when interschool competitions were the talk of the town. I used the town to mean village. The days' mammoth crowd thronged to the primary school field to witness the neck to neck competitions. The days we invested the whole term for. For some of us, it was the only days we ate mangoes or sugarcane. Any way aside with the sports days.

He used to officiate some of the games and the reason why I liked him was after the games he will take time to play with us. The feeble ones, the unskilled, the spectators. I could see that he pitied us, that is why he allowed us to touch the ball at one tap. It would remain memorable for the rest of the year. He was jovial and enjoyed it. 

Short, well-built and a seemingly protruding belly. Smartly dressed and walked liked a duck. He was stylish in every way. The way he articulated his words, the way he chose to dress on his Kaunda suit. The way he walked. The way he chose his words and the tone dynamics he picked was just amazing. He had a good command of both English and Kiswahili. He was the principal in one of the schools in our zone. I don’t remember the name of the zone. Kaplelach or Kipkabus. You can choose any.

January the year 2005, Mr Lawrence Kimani Kamau, the teacher I was describing, the principal I had mentioned, was posted to Waunifor primary School, my school. No. The school that I was studying. It took us by surprise. We were obviously late. You know the first weeks of opening. He was cycling. Upon realizing that he was a teacher, every pupil charged to the school. Those days, provided you are a teacher, you earn respect from pupils in any school. We used to stand to allow the teachers to pass. Some bullies also used to make us pass through that.

Morning assembly. He addressed us. His speech was electrifying. He owned authority and we could see it in every word that was coming out of his lips. He broke the norms of the principals that day. He never stood like a statue but roamed around inspecting the assembly lines. Our prayers were he just act a visitor and not to start scratching our necks to see if we had taken a bath that morning or previous evening. Or check or shirts if they were clean, check for civilian clothes or ask us to produce our handkerchiefs. We used to do or own such things. He was a walking humility clamoured in authority. He smiled at others, cracked jokes at others and kicked others.

He used to come to school on his bicycle. He referred to it as ‘amka twende’. He should have patented the name because there is a boda-boda service now called ‘Twende’ in Nairobi. Strict and kind at the same time. I oozed wisdom in every word he said and everything he touched bloomed. Waunifor regained its glory a few weeks he joined the school. He was disciplined. His active presence could be felt in school. The silence that engulfed the school in his presence was shocking.

I liked him. He was genuinely interested in people and am lucky I was one of those people he was interested in. Hearing him calling my name with his tone could make my heart leap with joy. I could feel my tail wagging inside my panty less shorts. He used to fear him and like him in equal measure. In us, he saw people, friends, innocent children. With our protruding bottoms due to torn pair of shorts, bare feet, groaning stomach, buttonless shirts, he saw potential. He pressed us hard to fulfil it. He was there for us and we did not need to attend any science class to prove that. It was my final year in primary and we felt it.

He did his beating with surgical precision. He knew where and how to hit to spill your stupidity away. He was not friendly when it came to punishments. Everyone never wanted to cross his lines. I can almost guarantee you that was it not for someone who imitated him while in class, I would have escaped his beating. His office was adjacent to our classroom. He could hear everything we said. Every word we said. The jokes we told. Most of which was imitate him. Some of my classmates like Hillary, Freddie and Justus are the ones who costed us most of the times. These guys were smart. Hillary and Freddie knew they would beat us in exams and they used to be playful. Justus, on the other hand, was good in escaping traps especially the ones he set.

Mr Kimani was that teacher who inspired the hell out of me to start imagining being a teacher. He was a model and a mentor. The recipe that I needed to chart my way forward. The candle that kept the hopes up in me. I was ignorant to read but I was not ignorant to notice his actions. His footprints remained in our hearts. Those who know him can attest to my story. Mr Kimani, you are a legend.