May She Rest in Peace...

I’m mourning. Indeed a whole school, the whole village, location is immersed in enormous grief. They are heavy in heart, letting tears roll not because one of their adored politicians is getting incarcerated but because one woman, one lady, one mother, one teacher, and rightly one-everything, who had amazing and appropriate influence on this blogger and many others, has passed on.

Her positive attitude and meticulousness are still prominent in most minds of her pupils. I don’t know of any other person whose dedication has had such a huge influence on their juniors like the way she did. Ask anyone who studied at Cheptalal primary school, Bureti District over the last 20 to 30 years about her and they will not fail to mention her stern but correct disciplinary measures. She did not often use a cane like most of her colleagues but preferred pinching with the help of a BIC/AIM pen. So when a defiant kid grew little horns, she would literally take off her red-ink pen, place it on the roots of the horns-the sharp ‘corners’ in the head-and pinched them off amid motherly rebukes. Once a while, she would pull one, the top among the unruly, place him between her standing legs, then softly smack the boy’s protruding backside until he asked for pardon and swore never to exhibit misplaced headiness. That was her ever stern, steady, and unwavering way to make pupils disciplined. She did not only discipline but taught with higher focus. 

This woman was one in a million. She talked without shiver, guided without stammer, and disciplined with intention. Truly, she leaves a hard to erase inscription in the hearts of those that happily passed through her hands, which invariably stretched and let her index finger point at the equals-to(=) sign separating 2 on the left and 1+ 1 on the right.

She liked calling me by my surname, even after I had that secret part of me sliced off in the jungle, even up to the last time I met her three to five years ago when I was still scurrying books at the university, she did not hesitate but call out that name with purpose and my legs would tremble a bit on hearing her heavy but astute voice. With respect, when I met her I would humbly let my other hand make a temporary triangle, stopping at the elbow, with the right hand as I stretched it to greet her. That was the kind of respect she deserved, she still do, even after leaving this planet.

That was Madam Samary Kenduiywa.