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14 2 he Old Man was a very thoughtful man. He understood the modern world, though it differed from what he knew. In his time, life was simple. Men woke-up at dawn and worked the fields from sun-up to sun-down. They provided for their families and protected them. Mothers had their place. Community cohesiveness was epicentre of life, no matter what. Life was uncomplicated. That was not the case in the modern world. Selfishness was the norm. To get ahead, education was a key to success. The Old Man understood that truth, even though he never had any formal schooling. His father, who was suspicious of the missionaries, did not see its merit. He denied all his children an education and retarded their progress. That was 1903 when the first school was founded at Kaimosi Friends Primary. The Old Man vowed not to follow his father’s footsteps; he did not. Years later, when President Moi encouraged parents to get an education under Elimu ya Gumbaru, he was too old to reap its benefit. That was 1978; though when his children started school, he would hide behind his fence listening to youngsters sing one particular rhyme— Nyenya kosoma, nyenya kosoma, nyenya kosoma ma nduuki Ivulaya. Mago vukiindu, mago vukiindu, mago vukiindu, vukiindu vwa mugamba!2 Though he could not understand contents of the song, and it sounded foolish to his ear, he could not help, but wonder where Ivulaya—overseas—was located. Even before he had learned the meaning of the song, he had vowed never to deprive his children of an education; they would learn and learn, even if they reached the faraway lands. He would make sure they attained the very best education the world had to offer—and he had made good of that promise. 2 I want to learn, I want to learn, I want to learn till I go overseas How cold, how cold, how cold the morning chill is. T 15 It was not, therefore, surprising when the Old Man broke the news to Sam, three months after he had finished school that he was sending him to a Polytechnic school. “My child,” he had said to him one day as he sat on a wicker chair under the gum tree. “I have been thinking about your future.” “Yes!” the boy said. “I think it would serve you right if you went to a Polytechnic school!” Sam, glum-faced and as though his lips had been laced with glue, sat still gazing at his grandfather. “I have been watching you for a long time,” he added. The boy remained soundless and simply stared at the Old Man with vacant eyes. It was hard to tell if he was displeased at all with the news. “There is nothing here for you to do now. I don’t have many cows as I used to. Besides, we live in a different world.” The boy said nothing. Silence reigned and remained. The two simply gazed at each other. “Your world is different from my world. Many young men your age are going to college. Those who miss admittance to the university or a teacher’s training college got to go to Polytechnic schools. That is where I want you to go. Learn a skill or a trade! It will help you in your future.” A moment of silence elapsed between them. When he finally spoke, Sam said five simple words. “Alright Guga, I will go.” The Old Man heaved a sigh of relief. Sam swallowed tons of saliva and then added, “Where is this school?” “Bumbe!” “When will I go?” “In two weeks!” “Okay then . . . If it will please you, I will go!” With that settled, Sam did not walk away. Instead, he sat there taciturnly, musing over his life as his mind took flight to his childhood problem: a father’s absence. He wondered if his father would have sent him away, far, far away from home. Perhaps, his grandfather wanted to get rid of him. That had to be it. He wanted to get rid of him; perhaps, he already branded him his mortal enemy. [3.93.173.205] Project MUSE (2024-03-19 08:29 GMT) 16 And an enemy, often always, never keeps an adversary around. He lumped his mother in the sorry lot of his enemies—for she, like his father, had abandoned him. He also felt the Old Man, just like his mother, was a liar. In his...