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GODFREY GUDAH
I was born in Kibera, possibly the largest slum
in the world. My elder brother was 2 years old. My father worked in the forest
as a forest gardener. Time went by and we suddenly migrated to Kakamega county.
There my brother and I went to a nursery school.
Later when I was 3 years old I joined class one. My brother would come home with
a lot of sugarcane stems. He would even get his bag and books in the sugarcane factories. Kakamega county is a sugar
belt of Kenya.
My mother
fried mandazi for sale and sold some soap, matches and other small items to our
neighbours. One day she cooked mandazi and left us to
sell. We sold a few and went to play. When she came she found that we were not
there and the mandazi were missing. We had gone to play in the sugarcane
plantation. She found us and called us from a distance. After reaching home she
searched for a cane and we were beaten.
Another day
we went to play on a tall building whose construction was
not complete. We played hide and seek on the open second floor. We ran wildly,
upstairs and downstairs without caring much. Suddenly I stumbled over a
loose block and tumbled down from first floor to the ground. I lay down overwhelmed by shock and pain. My mother heard
my cry and came running.
I ended up with my left arm in a plaster. I was
fractured. It was a very painful experience.
I had to carry my plaster to school, to church, except to play which was not
allowed to do. But for how long? I wished to play with my brother and my
friends again. The plaster was too heavy for me to run well. The doctor said I
needed to stay with the plaster for around six weeks. One day my friends went
swimming in a river that was 1 km away. I could not be left behind. My mother
was not at home.
Actually, my
brother ran and tried to run from me but I
knew where they were going. I ran with my heavy plaster all the way to the
river. I found them having a lot of fun in the dirty, muddy river. It was not a
big river and it was shallow. The laughter of the boys could be heard from
far. My heart started beating wildly with excitement. I wished I could join in
the fun. They dipped, dived, floated and fought in the water.
Finally, I
had had enough and I decided to hell with my plaster. I carried my left arm in
the plaster up and jumped into the river with my full clothes! Of course I got wet but I loved
it. It was good. My brother was shocked
but he couldn’t stop playing to talk to me. My plaster absorbed muddy
water! My father passed that way on his
way home from work. You should have seen his face when he recognized the little
boys in the water. When he came nearer, he almost fainted when he saw me. I thought that our punishment was going
to be great. But it did not happen. My friends vanished in seconds before I
knew it. My father took hold of me as I trembled and carried me on his
shoulders. My mother opened her mouth to scream at me but my father’s smiling face stopped her. He had news. A friend had
called him in Nairobi for a job.
The problem was my wet plaster. We went to the doctor and he removed it.
After that we left for Nairobi. My arm healed well. I ended up in Hamomi as my
father’s job turned out to be inadequate. He can’t pull his weight. I have got
in to other practical jokes but that’s a story for another day.
Thank you.
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