Mwannchi!! Our mathematics teacher would address every individual. He was 5’5 fine looking yo! When I say fine I mean it. Spiritual and FINE he was, wait how many times have I said fine? His tone was always constant whether pissed or in the entire good mood there is in this universe. Mr. M was that teacher you never want to cross paths with. While on duty 99.9% of us will be in school before the bell, a beg! Who would want to be late and spoil the face of the forever good-looking teacher, who?

There is nothing new under the sun so they say, but this particular day the class saw a new teacher different from the normal soft-spoken Mwalimu. (Teacher) On this particular day, he was late for his first lesson, being the class monitor, I was forced to go fetch him from the staffroom and found him busy finishing up a chat keenly drawing a demonstration of latitude and longitude dimensions. The chat was meant to make us understand Dimensions better.

He made it for the morning lesson, we expected him back again for the afternoon lesson which came after Business Studies. The business class involved students moving around from one class to the other as others did other technical studies, Agriculture, and Home Science….

“Fire is a good servant but a bad master”

It was an okay afternoon lesson but then again the teacher changed his face the moment his eyes landed on his chat, a chat he took forever making. “mwananchi!” He pointed at me – “Who stepped on this chat?” at this point I looked at the chat only to see not one, not two but numerous shoe prints. Before I uttered a word Matendechere (not her real name) my desk mate whispered “No one” “Say that again” he asked, giving Matendechere room to correct what she just said. Tension built in the room, and the silence grew louder I could literally hear my heartbeat.

“No one “This time Matendechere was audible enough. Before we could let it sink in Mwalimu was on her with the heaviest slap ever witnessed amongst us. “Does this look like no one to you?” He shouted.

Mwalimu tried composing himself but he couldn’t, he dashed out and within mini seconds he was back with rubber tubing filling his hand, do you remember the short hard pipe that was thick enough just to supply a small amount of gas to the Bunsen burner? Yes, I tell you He showered enough beating to take us through the entire month.

The face you make when you squeeze lemon juice is an understatement; He left our faces looking like we were dipped in drums full of tamarind (ukwaju) juice. We promised not to share the event but somehow the story finally leaked to the rest of the school, where do you hide your face when you are the school’s laughingstock?