Names and Secrets

By Mutali Chetambe

Names and Secrets won the Burt Book Award, Kenya and is the story of Chekai, a teenage boy who survives school bullying to become a champion of peaceful coexistence in an ethnically and economically divided society. Matur County is an example of a country that faces internal divisions. It is a county that is under increasing danger from external threats, including terrorism. Chekai is bullied by his teacher, Ms Letia and his class prefect, Goliath. This reflects the ethnic suspicions and economic inequalities that threaten to tear the society apart. However, Chekai thinks realistically about the problems in his society. Through curiosity, he discovers that unlike what is said, the people of Matur County have a lot in common. He realises that they will only defeat their real enemies if they are united. Chekai wins a presidential essay writing competition and becomes a peace ambassador. He uses his new position to chart a new path on which everyone will walk. This includes those who previously bullied him, and those who had been discriminated against.

• Language: English
• Publisher: East African Educational Publishers
• Release date: Dec 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9789966561527

Book preview

Kenya

CHAPTER 1

TIME TO GO HOME

Chekai felt tired. He looked up from his desk, rubbed his eyes with the back of his left hand and sighed. He felt like standing up, but he knew that Goliath, the class prefect would not take it kindly if he as much as stretched his arms. Chekai always wondered whether Goliath ever concentrated on his own books. How can you keep a permanent eye on fifty vivacious Standard Seven pupils and have any time left to read? No wonder, Goliath had never beaten him in any examination. Chekai looked in Goliath’s direction, on the far right of the Standard Seven classroom. As usual, Goliath was as alert as a police officer on duty. The class prefect looked like a god, with his eyes roving above the whole room. His small, deep set eyes surveyed his classmates like a pair of binoculars. At the same time, his nose appeared to be twitching like that of a dog, ready to sniff out for any sign of trouble.

Chekai wanted to laugh at this robot watchman, but just at that point their eyes met. For a moment, he seemed to be daring the class prefect. Goliath looked back authoritatively, and flexed his notorious red pen. This was the pen with which he wrote down the names of all mischief-makers. Every day he presented the offender’s list to Ms Letia. Whether the pupils committed any offense or not, Ms Letia always expected that list. In her office, she had her own set of rules. They were very different from the official school rules. They were written in red ink, on a large yellow piece of manila paper:

1.   Do not make noise.

2.   Do not sit like a praying mantis in class.

3.   Do not move up and down carelessly, especially up.

4.   Fear your teachers with all your heart and soul.

5.   Do not go to the toilet more than once a day.

6.   You must run to class when you hear the bell.

7.   Class prefects are always right.

8.   It is better to miss school than to come late.

9.   Girls should not have better hairstyles than the female teachers.

10.   A teacher has the right to check a pupil’s lunchbox and taste the contents.

Ms Letia was the tigress of Matur County Primary School. Many of the pupils had little marks on their skins which testified to her pinching skills. She was an expert slapper. She was also very talented at boxing and kicking. Chekai always thought that in the college where she had trained, the syllabus included lessons on how to cause maximum pain to a pupil. Her hands were weapons. Her tough palms left map-like prints on many smooth, cheeky faces as well as innocent faces. Sometimes she dragged the offender to the staffroom and whacked his bottom rapidly, with her bare hands, till she ran out of breath and collapsed on the ancient couch.

At the beginning of every school term she stood on parade, resplendent in her green kitenge suit and high-heeled shoes. This term I am on duty permanently, she would announce in her deep voice, wagging a finger at the pupils. And I hope you know who is speaking! The pupils were always both terrified and amused by this announcement. And for the rest of the term, they lived in total fear of the tigress. Goliath was the ambassador of Ms Letia’s terror in Standard Seven. The class feared any communication between him and the teacher on permanent duty. This was because such communication always involved the dreaded red list of offenders.

Ms Letia’s shoes had permanent specks of mud at the heel, and Chekai was always tempted to walk up to her and offer to wipe the soil off, out of sheer amusement. But no one could dare make fun of Ms Letia; at least not in her presence. These kids will kill me with this work of correcting them, she would lament, breathing loudly. Her face scared many students, who would confess to crimes they had not committed. There is a kind of expression which ordinary people put on their faces when they see something horrible. Ms Letia wore such an expression almost permanently.

If anybody complained that the government did not allow such punishment, Ms Letia would laugh and retort, Yes, the government does not allow caning. But slapping, pulling ears, pinching, boxing and kicking have not been mentioned in the ban. How else are we to correct the African child?

Chekai was not happy with the school programme. Instead of going for games at 4 o’clock, the Standard Seven and Standard Eight pupils were forced back to class to study. None of the pupils did any serious reading at this time. Their hearts and minds were in the playing fields. They bent sadly over their books as the voices of the other pupils playing tennis, football, netball and volleyball reached them through the windows. They would have loved to just chat the time away, but Goliath would not allow it. Chekai knew that the scouts were holding their weekly meeting. He loved scouting. In fact, today he was wearing the scouting scarf. He played with the scarf between his fingers.

Gooooal! Chekai heard the cheering from the football pitch. He fidgeted in his chair, wishing he was there to see the celebration of the goal. Although he did not play football, he loved to watch a good match. He particularly loved watching penalties. He found it funny when the goalkeeper dived the wrong way.

He looked at the giant clock on the front wall, above the chalkboard. It ticked away lazily and monotonously, as if it conspired with the school routine to inflict punishment on the pupils. It was fifteen minutes to the end of this reading session. What does one do in fifteen minutes? He began to draw a featherless chicken on the cover of his assignment book. He knew that Ms Letia would be angry at this. But there was nothing else he could do with his time.

Chekai passed his curious eyes across the classroom. Tom the bully was hunched on his desk, too bored for life. His mouth was half-open. Chep the bookworm had her head buried in a mathematics textbook. Mahewa, the polluter, was sitting on one buttock as usual. The rest of his classmates were pretending to read. Chekai loved to talk. He wanted to whisper a joke to his desk mate. But Goliath’s eyes were still fixed on him. He decided to play clever. He tore a piece of paper off his exercise book and scribbled a message.

Be careful. Sniffer Dog looks particularly angry today, he wrote. Sniffer Dog was the class prefect ’s nickname. Chekai passed the note to Odhis. Odhis laughed without opening his mouth. His shoulders just shook as he stole a glance at Goliath. The class prefect noticed the little commotion between the desk mates. He rose to his feet. A cruel smile formed across his square face. He was determined to find some two names for his red list. His red pen was held firmly between the right thumb and index finger. He walked to Chekai’s desk like a leopard closing in on its prey. Chekai and Odhis lowered their heads simultaneously and pretended to be studying as seriously as nuclear scientists in a laboratory. However, Goliath moved closer and closer.

Just then, the bell rang. Standard Seven came back to life. The subdued boys and girls were happy to be free at last. Free from the study routine! Free from Goliath! Free from the fear of the red list, and free from the tigress! They shoved their desks and sprang off the chairs as if the furniture had suddenly become hot and thorny. Tom the bully took advantage of the confusion and stepped hard on Goliath’s foot. The class prefect cried in pain, but it was impossible for him to know which of the tens of feet had hurt him. The pupils were in such a hurry that they did not notice his discomfort. Only Chekai had seen Tom’s deliberate aggression. He wanted to sympathize with Goliath, but he changed his mind. Goliath was always hurting other pupils. Chekai thought there was no problem if the class prefect also got hurt once in a while. He gave Goliath one more triumphant look and hurried out of class.

The air outside smelt fresh and sweet. There was a cool evening breeze blowing and rustling the leaves of the tall eucalyptus, cypress, emikhonge and emilaa trees. It felt so good to be free after the long school day. He felt like an insect which had been in the pupa stage for the whole day, and now it had graduated into an adult butterfly ready to flip its happy wings and fly freely in the wind. He felt life surging back into his limbs.

Standard Seven was close to the staffroom. He wanted to take the short cut route that passed right across the assembly grounds, but he changed his mind when he saw Ms Letia at the staffroom door. She was standing like a guard, her arms across her chest. She looked disappointed that no class prefect was yet handing in the red list. Chekai smiled inwardly, thinking how he had escaped the list by a whisker. He rushed to the school gate, hoping to be among the first. Pupils always scrambled at the gate on their way out. They dashed through the narrow gate as if one minute’s delay would earn them a place on Ms Letia’s red list. Chekai wanted to avoid having his shoes stepped on.

There were many cars parked outside the gate, waiting for the pupils. There were also motorbikes and even a few boda-boda bicycles. The newest models of Toyota, BMW, Peugeot, Nissan and Honda competed for space closest to the gate. The older cars kept a safe distance. Chekai saw the old, rusty Peugeot, which always parked on a little hill across the road. The driver was an aging man whose last born son was in Standard Eight. Every day, some pupils had to help push the car to get it started. It embarrassed the young lad a lot, and sometimes he hid until most of his friends had left before he gathered two or three pupils to help with the pushing.

Have you seen my son? asked the elderly parent. It is threatening to rain and if he is not fast, I am afraid we shall get stuck in the mud.

No, sir, Chekai replied. Perhaps he is finishing up something in class.

He moved to the space occupied by the motorbikes and began to look for the one that usually carried him. He peered