By the Idler-in-Chief
There was a time here in Nyagenke when life was so simple that laughter, tears, and hunger all queued effortlessly like prefects during inspection.
Tea at home was never guaranteed; sometimes it was water in a cup with hope added.
Those days, shoes were for Sunday only, and during weekdays we competed with chicken to see who walked best barefoot.
I am writing about the days when the King from the hills of Sacho, a fellow who shared a name with the Biblical chap who hit the headlines after he chilled with lions the whole night had no time for the (dis)united opposition.
The milk program was popular in Nyagenke DEB Group of Schools, not just because of the taste, but because the packets were decorated with pictures of muscular sportsmen and women, sprinting, leaping, and flexing like they had been raised on a diet of milk and miracles.
We, the emerging Nyagenkeans firmly believed that after two packets of milk, we would discover that no man is unlimited ahead of Kibuchoge.
Rumour had it that one pupil tried to bribe the head prefect who enjoyed powers that nearly superseded the village elder’s with a chicken leg to get an extra packet.
The guy, who occupied the coveted seat to water down his bullying tendencies reportedly declined, but the chicken was later seen limping; possibly from losing the negotiation over shoes.
But the politricks of milk was no joke and in the staffroom, the appointment of the “Milk Distribution Teacher” was so sensitive it made the later day Orange vs Banana contest look like a village chama cha wamama.
Teachers whispered manifestos: “Elect me, and I promise equal distribution! No favouritism! Thick tea for all!”, while others promised to ensure the milk is made even sweeter in a hundred days.
If there was corruption in those days, it came in the shape of a teacher staggering home with three packets of milk in the name of “storage away from rats in the school store.”
Meanwhile, children in Class Four prayed that their portion would not leak mysteriously into the Deputy Headmaster’s tea.
Milk day was sacred and came twice a week, a moment when even the sick rose from their beds miraculously to attend school.
If Nyagenke had a census on those days, we’d have broken population records and proceeded to do the same in the (in)Dependent Electoral and Fences Commission voters’ register.
And so today, as we celebrate the day first set aside in honour of the King from Sacho, the man whose cockerel is now aboard a yellow wheelbarrow, we the Nyagenkeans raise our cups in search of a cow to milk.
We may not all have become athletes, but at least we learned two truths: milk tastes better when free, and in Nyagenke, even hunger has a sense of humour.
-babahezel@gmail.com
Editor’s note: Idlers’ Corner is a Sunday column.