Memories of my primary school days
One day I’ll look back on this day, hour, minute and laugh till I cry.You know you’ve grown up when you can laugh at yourself–Someone
A tragedy turns into a comedy in future.
It’s never that serious.
Yesterday I was reading tweets with the hashtag #compozaprima which made me laugh till I cry. I haven’t laughed in a while and these moments are precious.
I was in a Catholic based school in the western part of Kenya. Everything about this school was religious, but we never EVER substituted prayer for hard work. We would wake up very early in the morning, rush to go and take a very cold shower and rush for preps. We would then go for morning mass after which we would be directed to the school field for the morning job. Five laps in a huge field discouraged me from ever participating in any kind of sports. Come ten o’clock we would all rush and queue for ten o’clock white prorridge and go back to class for lesson.
A typical lesson involved teachers dictating notes, giving a quiz and beating anyone who failed. We would then rush for lunch, come back for afternoon class then go to the dining hall for evening prayers; reciting the rosary, singing and praying for an hour. Dinner, evening preps then bed time. That was a typical day at our primary school.
Our lunch were to be between 12:45-2:00PM. This was reduced to cater for fasihi and literature sessions. This meant that every lunch time you would read a book, summarize it and define ten vocabularies. This words were to be memorised and used in a composition. Half the time my compositions and inshas had a thin plot and minimal suspense but they were laden with vocabularized memories from fasihi and literature sessions.
These were the toughest eight years of my life but reading the tweets of other people’s compositions, I’m so glad I’m not one of them.