Growing up in Coast in the early 90’s to mid 90’s, there was a magician who used to visit primary schools in the region to offer his trade for a fee. His name was Kash kash toa.
Whenever he visited, we used to be sent home early and those who paid the fee were left in the social hall to feast their eyes on the magic that followed.
On this material day, yours truly wasn’t blessed with the money to pay for the show, so we waited in the corners of the school for the show to begin.
Immediately the show began, we moved quietly and positioned ourselves strategically on one of the windows ready to peep through. As it goes, Kids will always be kids. We started jostling for a better view forgetting that our presence there was ‘illegal.’ It was during this time when the great magician shouted. “Na wale wanachungulia kwa dirisha nitawageuza matumbiri sasa hivi!”
It suffice to say that, I have never run my entire life the way I did on that day all this time confirming if I was still a homo sapien.
:D:D:D:D:D
pia sisi tulikuwa tunawaita professor, but the hardest thing was keeping that 5bob coin till evening, while mandazi were just been bought over the fence
my running was for a different reason…
While in class three our teacher asked us to come with bird’s nests for a lesson called nature study, maybe @FieldMarshal CouchP might remember. As we were going home i komeshad everyone that i was the champion tree climber and would get nests for everyone (secretly this was to impress one yellow yellow early bloomer, the first crush of my long life!)
Now, in Nyandarua there were these very tall cypress trees planted by colonialists that hosted colonies of weaver birds. i climbed one, branch by branch, up to where the tree was swaying from side to side in the wind. Those who have watched weaver birds will know that they weave their nests at the very end of a branch.
I was reaching out for one nest when the branch i was stepping one snapped and gravity took over. I started going down like Zaccheus after the Saviour summoned him. Down I went for what seemed like an eternity; all this time i was praying to allah, god, vishnu, Ngai, jesus and any other deity i could think of to save my life.
One of them apparently was not too busy and heard my entreaties for about four feet from the ground a branch caught my chin (I am lucky i did not break my neck!) and my legs swept forward so that i landed on the hard ground on my back. All this time the 15 or so boys and girls were screaming their heads off…
I did not spend a moment on the ground but quickly stood, grabbed my schoolbag and ran like a fox with its tail on fire, heading home.
Reaching home I went straight to bed and covered myself from head to toe and with time fell dead asleep. What woke me was the sound of many voices in the compound.
Apparently every kid had arrived home and reported that I fell off the tree and went berserk, so their parents rushed to our home, got my mom from the shamba and a search ensued. They had tired of looking for me in the neighbourhood in vain and reconverged at home to restrategize on how to look for me when i emerged from the house with a puzzled look on my face. I was mobbed with everyone wanting to know if i was injured. The ladies broke into tears of relief. I had only a slight bruise on my shin. I glowed in all the attention…
hehehe, @gashwin there was a time in shags I climbed a mango tree, it had beared so many mangoes that the branches were weak and vanarable to breaking. little did I know this, I assumed the position of a tourist on one of those beds kwa beach and placed my legs on a higher branch. I was now picking mangoes from the branch slightly above an enjoying them one by one, until the branch I was lying on couldnt bear my weight anymore, nilichapa Chini and for some reason survived. sijawahi umia mgongo like that day. every time I go to shags and pass by That place I get goose bums
i am sure they were some of those cheap house of manji brands…once professa made a boy lay an egg…today the guy, now a well established bizman, still goes by the moniker ka-hen…
