An incredible journey: From a mud hut to Cambridge

By John L Shabaya

Read the incredible journey of John L Shabaya - an educator with an MA and PGCE from the University of Cambridge, a history of extensive travel, and a passion for charity work: The voice of a village boy from Kenya.

HEARING OTHERS’ VOICES

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781471026140

Book preview

AN INCREDIBLE JOURNEY

FROM A MUD HUT TO CAMBRIDGE

John L Shabaya

AN INCREDIBLE JOURNEY

2020

HEARING OTHERS’  VOICES

Balestier Press

Singapore and London

www.balestier.com

Foreword.  Edwin Panford-Quainoo

Acknowledgements

Preface

Charter One: The Beginning.....

Chapter Two: Realisation

Chapter Three: Growing Up in Kenya: Early Years

Chapter Four Colonial Kenya

Chapter Five: Fond Childhood Memories

Chapter Six: Beloved Illiterate Parents

Chapter Seven:  Post Independent Kenya

Chapter Eight: Family Impact

Chapter Nine: Passion For Education.

Chapter Ten: Which School

Chapter Eleven: The Greatest Blunder

Chapter Twelve: The Day of Reckoning.

Chapter Thirteen: What next

Chapter Fourteen: On My Own, Where Next?.

Chapter Fifteen: The Rock Bottom.

Chapter Sixteen: Greater Promotion.

Chapter Seventeen: The Higher Call.

Chapter Eighteen: What Did I Study?

Chapter Nineteen: At Limuru

Chapter Twenty:  In the High Grounds

Chapter Twenty-One: The Urban Jungle.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Look Elsewhere

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Cambridge Attraction..

Chapter Twenty-Four: Why Cambridge?..........................................

Chapter Twenty-Five:  Money To Cambridge?...........................................................................

Chapter Twenty-Six: At Cambridge.............................................................................

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Does Teaching Matter?.........................................................................

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Pedagogy……….....................................................................

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Teaching In England...............................................................................

Chapter Thirty: Anecdotes...............................................................................

Chapter Thirty-One: What Are My Interests?...........................................................................

Chapter Thirty-Two: Taxi......

Chapter Thirty-Three: Not Tired........................................................................................

Chapter Thirty-Four:  Atsinafa Education Centre......................................................................

Chapter Thirty-Five:  A Pastor and A Preacher

Chapter Thirty-Six: Lost and Found...........................................................................................

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Where I Have Been.................................................................................

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Different Paths, Separate Ways................................................................

Chapter Thirty-Nine: The End............................................................................

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DEDICATION

In loving memory of my mother,

 Atsinafa Muhadia Shabaya

and

My dear Auntie Ezina Sambili

Foreword

Nea onnim no sua a, ohu (Ghanian)

He who does not know can know from learning

Every life is bound to have people with whom the crossing of paths has such profound influence. For me, John Shabaya, ‘Uncle John’ as I would fondly call him, or Dad when I am speaking to his daughters, has been one of those extraordinary, unique people.

In our culture, everyone older, an elder, is either an Uncle, Auntie, Mum or Dad. You do so to convey respect and humility. My initial contact with John, was in the early 90s when I first moved to Cambridge from Ghana. Back then I was closer to his younger brother, Patrick Shabaya. Due to our friendship, I would see ‘Uncle John’ on a regular basis and share stories.

Each time spent in his company, was like another layer of the ‘onion,’ peeled and revealed. I have always been in awe of what he has achieved, the richness, the diversity of the life he has lived and continues to live.

I absolutely love the fascinating stories, and the real moments of triumph. So, you can imagine my joy when he informed me, he was writing about his life story. That day was certainly a day to celebrate, because, finally the stories that I and so many others have heard, as you will find out when you read this book, were irrevocably being written to be treasured eternally.

Of course, there are also moments where the stories were not all of celebrations, but I guess that is life and certainly adds to the richness of it all. ‘Uncle John’ has been a great source of encouragement when needed most. He has been a mentor, a proof-reader to a lot of the documents I have written.

With his teaching background, John always has this ability of getting you to understand and look at things in the most profound way. That, I imagine has come from his personal experiences of the peaks and troughs of life.

The taxi business was without a doubt a big part of his more recent life. I recall the day he told me he had driven The Malala Family and he had been in their home, the way he said it with such calmness whereas I, on the other hand, was just ecstatic! Hearing these stories made me more excited to hear the next instalment whenever we spoke over the phone or met face-to-face.

As you read this story you will realise, like I have, that he has a certain tenacity that is undeniably admirable and if you spend time in his company long enough, you will come to acknowledge that this tenacity is certainly infectious! I have really learnt a lot from him, and I deeply appreciate our time together and the conversations we have had over the years.

I want to welcome you to an incredible life story: An Incredible Journey.

Edwin Panford-Quainoo MRPharmS PFPH CPhOGH Fellow

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book has been possible because of the impact my father Charles Shabaya Malaya (Shambai Maraya) and my mother Atsinafa Tsijenga Muhadia Jelida (Je'da) Shabaya had on me. It is also a reflection of a lot of help I have received form all those who had faith in me: Individuals and organisations.

Special thanks to Berin and Daniel Krenek for being friends with exceedingly great generosity, particularly for lending a laptop, though ancient with some keys missing but did the job. Thanks too to Rehema my daughter and Edwin for the last-minute rescue with a refurbished laptop, that has seen the completion of this book.

To all those known and unknown, those I may have not mentioned, who have helped me to walk this Incredible Journey and those who walked by me and with me a long my Incredible Journey, To each one of you:

THANK YOU SO MUCH! ASANTE SANA! URIO MUNO

Preface

We are living in the digital era, the time when almost, everything happens instantly. Unbelievably currently, even now, I constantly encounter some people, particularly young people who have no dreams at all, no passion for anything to pursue or intend to pursue instantly, incidentally, by the way or even gradually.

Bless you if you are one of those who have a passion. Bless you even more if you are already committed to pursuing your passion.

Some people are simply waiting for some fortune to drop from somewhere, without any effort. A few folks are only daydreaming that one day, they will wake up and suddenly everything will be alright.

Moreover, some people are simply disillusioned with life and cannot just be bothered. Others find resilience and determination rather difficult. There are those who are, the ‘I will do it,’ without a set time, goals and concrete attempts to do it or towards doing it.

You may be one of them. You may be feeling as if you are at the crossroads, the intersection of your life. Your journey is at a halt. You may be wondering what to do next, what to do with yourself and your life. Maybe you do not know which path to take or even curve for your life.

If so, this book is for you. You will hear about another person’s story, dilemma and passion. Hopefully, you will discover your own passion, commit yourself to your passion. I hope you will discover, it is not a must to be famous. Just endeavour to do your best, be honest with yourself and be successful at your passion or with your passion. But if you are already famous or become famous later, so be it, rejoice and celebrate.

For now, focus onto the path of pursuing your passion, rather than just sitting there and waiting for the instant success. Of course, for many people, instant success is rare and is not the only route or avenue to success or to one’s destiny. Therefore, endeavour to discover your passion and follow it relentlessly. With your passion at hand, the will power inside you will kick in, you will normally be fired towards your destiny.

This book and its series, will help you to listen to others, hear others’ voices, sift through and take at heart that which you can learn from, that which can inspire and encourage you. Most of all believe also in yourself. Then, pursue your passion, live out your own story.

We all stand in ‘owe’ of some sort, on our journey through life. So, have something you strongly believe in and have a passion for or, whatever it may be. That will underpin your pursuits and determination. That will fuel your impetus so that you certainly make it, amidst the ups and downs of life.

My passion was education, amidst other things. I committed and focused my energies on it. I have never ever regretted. The first huddle was to discover my passion or even create one, if necessary, as you will find out in my story.

The Incredible Journey is therefore a story about my passion, how I discovered my path, seized opportunities and even created opportunities, en route my destiny. How and where I got the strength and determination to carry on relentlessly and I am still carrying. As my Portuguese speaking friends used to say, ‘Aluta continua,’ the struggle continues.

My story reflects, outlines my struggles and joy. It celebrates how I discovered the will power inside me. It sketches how I subsequently walked on my pilgrimage, shoulder high, amidst several obstacles and challenges, how I walked on my life’s journey towards my destiny.

I hope my story will be of some inspiration to you. However, if you already have a passion, a path you have already taken, for you, it will be an affirmation. Whatever it will be for you, let it be.

Chapter One: The Beginning

Here I am

From rags to fine garbs.

From a mud hut to Cambridge.

From shacks to Cambridge

From Humble Beginnings

To an Incredible Journey.

This is the story of my life.

Hear the voice of a village boy.

Born of very deprived, poor parents.

Born of illiterate parents,

But I dreamed big dreams.

Hear my voice.

I loved, Wanted,

And longed to travel the world.

I failed my Primary School Exams,

Meant to catapult learners

to a great and bright future.

Meant to launch me,

into a pre-eminent and brilliant future.

Therefore Doomed!

I Constantly heard voices of failure.

The community around me,

My Primary School teachers,

kept telling me:

'You are a failure!

Do not dream young man!

Dreams don’t always come true.'

They reiterated,

'Just like your father,

You will never make it!

You have failed to get your KEY

The key to life,

The opener of the future for learners

The opener of your dreams.

Your dreams are over.

Do not dream again!

Do not dream any-more!

You have no hope.

Your future is doomed.'

But I never, never, ever gave up.

I continued to dream,

To dream against all odds.

Here I am

A Cambridge University graduate, UK.

A High School teacher, UK.

Head of a Department,

A Subject Leader, UK.

Taught for over 19 years in UK.

I have been a clergy,

I have been an Officer,

Kenya Defence Forces,

Up to the rank of Major.

Travelled extensively,

All over the world.

Retired from teaching, UK,

But not tired.

Never really stopped

Working and volunteering.

I am a Charity Worker.

Founder Room2Excel

An Educational Charity.

Founder & Director:

Atsinafa Education Centre,

Western Kenya,

A legacy to my illiterate mother.

A Translator and Proof-reader.

A Cab, a Taxi Driver.

I endeavour to give back,

To the community.

Read and hear the voice of

Hope and determination.

Hear the voice of encouragement.

Read my dare to dream,

And dare to try story.

Read and hear:

How one can emerge:

From subsequent ashes,

From dust,

From failure to success.

From a remote village,

In Kenya to Cambridge, UK

From an illiterate home,

From a mud hut,

To Cambridge University.

How one can get the money,

To study at Cambridge University.

I am the boy,

born in Ishanji Village,

Born in Western Kenya

Grew up in a mud hut.

And ended up in Cambridge

Yes, I am

JOHN LISAMULA SHABAYA.

An Incredible Journey,

Is the Story of My Life!

Chapter Two: Realisation

This book reflects my pilgrimage, a shared human experience. For me, I believe Life is a journey; each one of us is inevitably travelling along and is on a journey through life. This book epitomises some glimpses of shared life's experiences, life's pilgrimage, the journey that resonates with many other people’s experiences, my experiences, your experiences.

Mostly this book focuses more on my journey to Cambridge, a realisation and a synopsis of unstoppable journey amidst immense obstacles, that made it, 'An Incredible Journey,' and worthwhile. Hence, there is a lot that may resonate with other people's experience, your own experience, my experience. If not, there's a lot to read; especially that which inspired  me,  inspires me still. I hope my experience, the shared human experience will help with the reflection on what inspires, or what one wants and chooses to inspire one’s own life, your life, my life.

This book celebrates, and rightly so, what I could and can remember along this journey, my Incredible Journey. The contents of this is what was and has been the impetus, the driving force in my how I have gone through it all.

The book highlights the fact that, there are significant, shared struggles, experiences, etc., within the human existence. It also rightly, implicitly, sometimes, explicitly celebrates life. It shows, perhaps there is a plausibly prototype life, that may motivate others not to give up, when it gets turf, but endeavour to hold on, explore and discover the opportune time and potential opportunities.

'Where does one get inspiration, the inspiration to keep going.......? As for me, I got my greatest inspiration from my both deceased mother and grandmother. I spent a lot of time with these two ladies.

A lot of my precious time was spent with my grandmothers, but more so with grandma Shamola Sambili, my father's mother. Whenever my mother visited dad in Nairobi, Kenya, during term time, school time, I was left under the care of my grandma Shamola. I bonded with Grandma Shamola Sambili a great deal, that I named my first daughter after her.

Grandma Shamola (the crawling one), had a lot of gentle stamina and determination, often, coupled with very encouraging words of wisdom. Having fended for her own children, she aged gracefully. Even though she lived in my grandfather's shadow, in difficult times, she stood out. She was always a pillar and a shoulder to lean on. Whenever I was in trouble, particularly in times of great decision making, or when sinking in the troubled waters of life, grandma Shamola Sambili was there for me.

Accordingly, in her old age, she had grown into a wise lady, with a lot of wisdom and with surpassing encouragement. Of course, she had seen it all. She had seen two world wars: WW1: 1914-1918 and WW2: 1939-1945. She had experienced and lived through several draughts, crop failure and hunger spells.

Grandma Shamola Sambili, had seen her husband's, my granddad's business, collapse in her face. She had witnessed several epidemics, that took lives of some of her beloved children. Indeed, she had seen it all and amazingly survived. As such, nothing could really shock her, or even shake her 'to the borne'. For that matter, she inspired many. She particularly, inspired me greatly, especially on my fateful day in 1966.

Who could compare themselves with Grandma Shamola Sambili? She even lost one of her own eyes, just in-front of her face. It just dropped from its socket and that was it. Gracefully, she picked it, tried putting back in the socket, but it was too late. It was gone. She became one eyed grandma and survived for over one hundred years, a century plus.

Her life really started, in what I would call her retirement, when her husband, my granddad died in 1965. From that time, she displayed a lot of determination, never seen before in her, and even never known to exist in her. The shadow she had lived under, was suddenly taken away, gone for good, gone for ever. Henceforth, she was on her own. She grieved extensively, as if the whole world, her world had ended.

One day, she woke up, walked up towards grandpa's tombstone, went to grandpa's graveside, looked at the shoot, the new bud on the mukumu tree – the sycamore tree, traditionally planted by and on male elders' graveside, symbolising hope. For her, on that day, it was indeed a symbol of hope.

She just exclaimed, 'Gadushi yaho,' literally, 'that's enough,' in other words, 'enough is enough.' From that moment and thereafter, her face beamed with hope and joy. She became a bold and unmoveable self-reliant lady, self-driven, with a lot of business acumen, astuteness and shrewdness. She embarked on what I would call mini entrepreneurship.

Henceforth, she started selling bananas, all the way, from Ishanji Village, Kakamega County, Western Kenya to Eldoret in the Rift Valley Province, now Uasin Gishu County. Moreover, she contributed significantly to charity, through her local church and so forth. She was committed to whatever she put her hands on, always doing the best she could. Grandma Shamola has therefore been an indispensable inspiration in my life and now in my own retirement.

One of my earlier greatest interests and dreams, was to be a journalist, a writer or an author. I loved telling stories, inherited from my grandmas and my parents, inspired by African oral tradition. I had hoped to collect some of my childhood stories, to share with kids through the local papers and magazines and later publish into a book. Therefore, the writing of my story is a dream come true, a realised ambition. Even this not a fictional story, it is a story, a real story, The Story of My Life.

The writing of my story has also been a long-term request by many with whom I happened to encounter and share my story, in cases, just briefly, when travelling or just going about with my 'business.' I have turned the quest down severally. However, the final impetus and gentle push has been really by Prof Ruth Finnegan, who has become a dear friend. Without Prof Ruth Finnegan, the writing of this book, would not have been realised.

I also vividly recall, picking up The Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge University who was also a very Senior Officer at MRC. I do not know what MRC acronym really stands for. It could be Medical Research Council, or Medical Research Centre.

This encounter, to be specific, was approximately ten years ago, it was on 05 November 2010. We had a remarkably interesting conversation that I found inspirational. He kept asking me perceptive questions, particularly, about my life.

Finally, he asked me, 'What did you do before you became a Taxi Driver?' He continued to prod, ‘Have you done any other job before, other than being a Taxi Driver? I wondered, and asked him politely, 'Sir, why are you asking, me such searching questions.' He replied, 'you speak and behave like 'an extra-ordinary' Taxi Driver.'

He further insisted, 'at least, tell me where you were educated.' Knowing who he was, with the pride of my achievements then, pride almost took over the best part of me. For once, I felt almost like regretting being a Part-time Taxi Driver, one year to my retirement from teaching.

In view of this and feeling rather ashamed, I did not want to 'let the cat out of the bag.' I hesitated to answer the question. However, as he sounded, genuine, sensitive to my feelings, and the agony I was going through, attempting to withhold my answer, it became more difficult for me to hesitate anymore, but to answer the question. I picked up courage and decided to 'let the cat out of the bag.'

'I am actually a graduate of Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge University and a secondary school teacher.' Taxiing and cabbing is my hobby,' I answered confidently. With no condemnation, he reciprocated with his own personal story.

His story was very fascinating, engrossing that I wished I could remember it verbatim. However, I can only remember that he came from a humble background, born of immigrant parents. Through his parents’ hard work, his own hard work as well and various scholarships, he was catapulted to fame, and has been promoted to a variety of higher offices, including becoming the Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge University.

I graphically and vividly, recall his final and last words to me. Again, without condemning me for being a graduate, and driving a taxi/cab, he beckoned me: 'Write your story, it will be a good read. It will be an encouragement to many young people and grownups a like.'

Here it is, may it just do that; be an encouragement to many.

Chapter Three: Growing Up in Kenya: Early Years

I am often asked, 'how was it like growing up in Kenya? Some of the people I encounter, especially the younger generation also enquire: 'do you have any recollection of your early years?' The ensuing story is my recollections, mainly from my mother, father and my extended family.

0n one dry sunny Wednesday, in the month of December, not even in a hut, but in a banana plantation, in a tiny rural Village, a long-awaited baby boy was born to incredibly grateful parents. On that day, there was great joy in Ishanji Village, a village in Western Kenya, near the border of Kenya and Uganda, close to Lake Victoria, a village not far from Latitude zero degrees - 0º : The great Equator, the imaginary line that divides the world almost into two halves: the North and South.

I was the long, awaited baby boy, born circa12th December 1951. I was named Yohana (Kiswahili for John), a variant of a Greek name Ιωαννης Ioannes (Joannes) with Hebrew etymology, meaning God is gracious or God has shown favour. My mother, being illiterate and excited, probably, distorted the local language or assumed Yohana and Yahana were synonyms. Of course, the two words are phonetically awfully close. 'Yahana' literally means, He has given, God has bestowed or given graciously. My mum also reckons that my birth was foretold, by her church's prophet (foreseer), Isaya Kituyi. Even the name Yohana, my name John, was from the respective Prophet Isaya's prophetic dream and mouth.

My mother reckons that, before I was born, she had been without a child for a long time. In fact, in Luhya and most African cultures then, the birth of a child was the seal of a couple’s marriage. Therefore, prior to my birth, mum and dad's marital status was incomplete and unsealed.

In fact, in most African cultures in those days, no child, meant no marriage! In addition, my mother told me that our Idakho clan, Maragoli clan, and Luhya tribe's culture then, stipulated that if a couple is married for over two years without a child, their marriage became null and void.

Therefore, in accordance with the Luhya culture and traditions of the time, if I had not been born then, born sooner than later, promptly born at the time and by the time I was born, my mother would have been divorced. According to my Mum, such a divorce would have been devastating. She loved my Dad and consequently, my Dad also loved her dearly.

However, my mother would have been affected more than my father. Divorce carried an eternal stigma for a woman, especially if one was divorced for being barren. The Idakho-Luhya culture dictated that a barren woman goes back to her parents.

My mother had already witnessed and empathised with that stigma. Ezina Sambili, her eldest sister had encountered a painful and devastating divorce for being barren. The ensuing divorce almost sunk her into a serious depression and alcohol dependence. Going back to her people, with the stigma of that magnitude: Being barren and divorced, would have been an exceedingly difficult journey for my mother to make.  As a matter of fact, it would not have been a walk with ardours enthusiasm, but rather an arduous walk.

Consequently, I was born in the days Luhya culture and most African cultures, when marriage was mainly, to produce children. The African culture focused more on marriage as a guarantee of the survival and continuation of the clan, the community and the tribe at large, rather than romantic love between a couple. Most marriages were therefore arranged marriages, including my parents’ marriages.

As a matter of fact, in Africa, the community was vital. There was no life outside the community. To be, was to be in the community and with the community. To be, was to belong to the community. Therefore, in accordance with the African philosophy, 'I am because we are.' The greatest and the most loathed punishment then, was to be ostracised from the community, your community.

You were properly initiated into the community from childhood. One endeavoured to stay within the expectations of the community, observing the various traditions, statutes, etc. You never attempted to go against the embedded oral statutes and culture, lest you be excommunicated, ostracised and thereafter, exterminated. Being excommunicated and ostracised from the community was greatly feared by all. It was an eternal death sentence.

Contrastingly, my father had more pressure. He was pressurised more by his family and community at large, to have a child. This was more so, because his elder brother, Uncle Thomas