Dear Mum,
Wait Mum, I found an unspent candle at the bottom of my metal box. Remember the ones you bought expensively for special occasions. I never understood what special occasions were. To me every day brings forth a special occasion that needs to be enjoyed and savored. You are just a baby, you told me. You told me to grow up and I will understand better. I am sorry I took without your permission. But you know this god forsaken school has frequent black outs and I must write you a letter.
Mum, I told you something is disturbing me. It is this school Mum. “Please forgive me” “I will never repeat it again.” My bunk mate is dreaming. Again! I have told you about this annoying habit. You told me it’s a medical condition that needs to be treated. But I doubt it. My bunk mate is a bully. He likes picking on other students. One of his victims must be haunting him now. Thank God! I read somewhere that what we speak at night when asleep are thoughts confined to our sub conscious. I asked Mr. Bula, the Biology teacher and he confirmed. These are thoughts that we cannot otherwise verbalize them when awake, he says. Mr. Bula is a great teacher. I like him so much. Of course after Ms. Wanderi, the English teacher. He is always nice to me. He lets me take tea at the staff room when I go to collect books, other teachers do not. He allows me to ride his bicycle in the evenings. He once invited me to his house. Mum, he has a big house, a beautiful wife and two sons. One of his sons is my age. I sometimes think he likes me because I am more like his son. I have never asked him of course but I suspect it. The other day he promised to take me to his rural home after the exams. I told him we are going to Mombasa to see Aunty Mary.
Mum, the dorm is really quiet as the cemetery. I can hear a few snores and grumblings. Whenever one turns, the bed noisily creaks and that scares me. The beds are made of steel and springs. They are really uncomfortable to sleep on. I can almost hear you say that am only here for a season and a reason. I should sacrifice my comfort for something better, you say. But how can I Mum when it’s painful a reality to even blink your eyes? How can I hope for a better tomorrow when tonight is sharply bleak? This is why I must write you a letter. Ms. Wanderi tells me to always be optimistic about life. Tomorrow will be brighter, she says. Oh Madam Wanderi! She is a sweet teacher Mum. She always smiles. I really like her. She likes me too. Remember the day she brought me home when I was sick? You were not at home so she had to take care of me till you came back. I remember the look in your eyes when you came in through the door and saw me laying on the sofa, a stranger beside me. What’s wrong, you curtly asked rushing to my side.
Later she would tell me how worried you looked. How lucky I am to have you. How caring and loving you are. Of course I knew all that but it was great to hear it from her. Mum, you know she sometimes calls me for dinner at her house. She has a small daughter, very beautiful with brown eyes. Lovely smile. Just like Brenda. I do not know her father but who cares anyway? Statistics are awash with single mothers who are capable of providing for their families. Plus she teaches really well. On Monday next week we are going for a Literature Symposium at Greenvale School. It’s a debate and yes Mum, I am the lead debater. Last month it was held here in school and we performed really well. She gave me a watch as a present. I didn’t like it but I had to keep it. Three days later it was stolen! I was taking a shower when I placed it on top of the concrete slab then I forgot it. I came back for it and found it gone. Kimani says it’s my fault. I know you would say it too. But how is it my fault that there are thieves masquerading as students in this school? I did not feel bad though, I didn’t like it. I reported the theft to her and she said they would carry an impromptu inspection. I am still waiting.
Mum, whenever they carry out an inspection, they always confiscate our belongings: clothes, shoes, phones and even consumables like sugar and coffee. Home clothes and shoes are illegal and no one bothers whenever they are taken away. But sugar? The morning porridge is tasteless. They never put sugar in it. If they did, we would not be bringing sugar to school. It has become expensive anyway. I study at night all the time Mum. I need coffee to keep me awake. I told the Deputy Principal as much. He said maybe we should stop studying at night. Imagine! And you still ask why I want out of this school.
It is really cold outside. I can hear the gush of the wind threatening to pull the mabati roof. I really have no idea why the winds have not managed to blow it away. This dorm is really old, really old. The mabati has decayed that it has lost its original color. It is now brown. Whenever it rains, the roof leaks. So many times I have come to the dorm to find the floor covered with water. When there are thunderstorms, the building literally shakes. One day it might cave in and bury us alive. Mum, please get me out of this place before then.
It’s becoming really cold. It must be about midnight. The perfect time to study. I told you some of us wake up at night to go and study quietly. During the day it’s impossible. I hear a bread creak and someone jumps out. It’s Kimani, my best friend. I see him putting on his shoes and sweater. Mum, we usually go to bed with our full school uniforms. It saves time when waking up, we reason. Of course there are bed bugs but who cares. We need to pass, right? I told you I must go to the University.
Ben jumps out of bed too, followed by Chris and Joseph. They all have their uniforms on. They all troop to the bathroom to wash their faces. I don’t have to; I have not slept a wink. I must write you a letter. Kimani comes to my bed and is startled I am writing. Have you slept, he asks. No, I reply, I promised to write Mum a letter. He asks me to pass his greetings to you. Ben, Chris and Joseph circle my bed and ask what is happening. Eddie is writing his Mum a letter, Kimani says. They all nod. Joseph mumbles something about him wanting writing a letter to his girlfriend in a nearby school. Mum, I too have a girlfriend. It is the only sweet thing in this hell. When I come home for holidays I will tell you about it. They all hate it here. That is why we are such great friends and study partners. We always take the first five positions in class. That is how compatible we are. You will meet them when next you come for the visiting day. They are really cool chaps.
My alarm goes off. Its 12:02 am, waky waky, it screams. Beds creak and some heavy sleepers mumble as they turn and snore. Mum, my friends are becoming impatient, Ben is shuffling his feet. I must go with them. Kimani says I will write you a letter some other day; Ben nods and checks his watch. British, Ben is. He is a great stickler of detail and an excellent time keeper. No wonder he is the school’s official time watcher. He says he wants to go to Oxford. I am sure he will. Sign off, Chris begs. He is the most considerate of us all. He hates confrontations and is usually the voice of reason in our group. We call it the Pentagon. The Principal actually called us that after our domination in class. We are very fond of Chris. He is the Library prefect. He usually allows us to study in there where it’s warm and cozy. The library has comfortable seats unlike the hard wooden seats in class. Whenever he comments, his arguments are final. We must obey! I must sign off!
I am picking my books from under the head of the mattress. They make my pillow. I have to go now Mum. Books come first, you always say that.
Promise to write your Mum a letter one day, Chris says as we head out of the door. I do.
