Shorts & toilets

“Ewe bwana! Wacha upusi!” Barks the deputy principal Ocampo from a distance. How his English rhymed so well with Luhya dialect still amazes me. Anyhow, right into our business today.

Enjoy, shall you?

When everybody else is running to assembly for the four o’clock laps, you will find yourself sprinting in the opposite direction towards the latrines, not because you ate maharagwe jana and can’t hold your brakes, not even because ati you have an affair with madam Gobo’s daughter or mboch that you only have this little precious time to fix her, forget about that, can that even be a reason? And you are not sprinting the opposite direction ati because you have not been through the knife and want to hit the shower when nobody is around to evade circumcision by a ruler, no.  Not because of that either.

Instead, you will be headed towards the loos because you don’t have a games short and Mr Osinya and Machio are not laughing with students that aren’t wearing their games attires. You are wondering why you don’t have the short while everybody else has? Ah! Relax, we shall come there. So wewe huyoooo, quickly past Moi House, right into Kenyatta House corridor. Within seconds you are right behind the music room and directly get into one of those choos near the Agriculture farm.

Hardly settled, kumbe there were other lazy ass jamaas also hepaing the laps and were headed the same direction. Na kumbe by bad luck these poor fellows were being pursued by Mr Osinya Okumu and Machio. This is how an evening starts turning into turmoil. What do you do here, do you tuck in properly, compose yourself, wear a serious face and walk out of that toilet assuming you don’t know what’s going on? Eh? Do you?

By bad luck again, when the rest vanish into the farm, two of the bustards jump into the toilets cause to them, that’s the safest hiding place. Really! Who hides in a toilet in such a critical moment? Poor fellows! Oh!  Still want to know why you don’t have a games short while the rest have? Simple. You don’t like shorts. So you carried that thing home and donated it to your younger brother, reason?  You just don’t fancy shorts. Hivyo tu. So instead, you copied your locker-master and decided to get a relatively older and faded school trouser and converted it into a short. But that’s not what Osinya and Machio want to see. Ati they only want to see a school short, as if the one you converted is asking them ugali.

So the two ninjas have joined you in the toilets and are thinking that’s the safest hiding place on earth. You are standing in there in a corner with your door locked, religiously sniffing poop (cause what else will you do?). You are only lucky that these loos are hardly a month old, otherwise you’d suffocate and collapse in there. They are unlike the ones between Kenyatta House and the football pitch, where you have to remove and hang your shirt outside before getting inside to do your business. Talking of which.

What is it with guys that used to gather around these very stinky latrines all day?  You’d hardly miss Kanah with his Coasto friends, or Masuti with his Nairobi gang around these loos. Coasto guys camping here conversing in their soothing Mombasani accent, or watu wa Nai discussing their travel experiences. One narrating how he sat with some chic from Nai and how they ended up having sex in that bus, another joining with a similar story and the crowd growing slowly. After all, who wouldn’t be interested in such great stories? Come on, who doesn’t want to have sex with a stranger in a bus? Who? You guys don’t want that?

So there’s this day I’m supposed to deliver a speech on assembly. It’s Monday and when it’s Monday and you are scheduled to address the whole school, by default, you’ve to be in your best set of uniform. So about five minutes to the morning assembly, I run to the South to relieve myself and kill the pressure that comes with addressing a huge crowd. And because these loos are ‘throwing’ and nobody wants to come out smelling all funny, I abide by the custom and remove my windbreaker, my tie, the shirt, vest, and finally the trouser, hang them on the tree and majestically walk into the chamber. Like a boss. Ready for business. Waah!  My people! Two minutes later, this is me walking out of the toilet in my boxer. Only to find none of my clothes present. Like NONE. Not even the tie. Hehe, guys, not everybody you see walking out here naked is a madman.

Anyway, back to business. So still standing in a corner in your chamber, you will hear Osinya shout “WE KIJANA! GET OUT!” two doors away. People! That’s how you know you are in hot soup. Quickly, you will squat above the latrine hole. Before too long, you’ll hear somebody climb up your toilet door. Looking up, guess who your eyes meet! Of course none other than Osinya mwenyewe, hanging on your door from outside, sticking his head in through the large space between the door and the roof.

“ACHOKA GET OUT!” He’ll bark.

“But… Nakunia mwalim,” you will say amid confusion.

“TOKA NJE!” He’ll insist. “KWANI UNAKUNYA NA NGUO?”

At this moment, you will burst into a very loud uncontrollable laughter …

See you soon.

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Achman is a Co founder - Creatives Kenya. Studied journalism and does a gazillion things. In descent places people know him as George Achoka. Email achoka@creativeskenya.com Get him on Twitte here:

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10 Comments

Francis Marisia November 1, 2018 at 11:03 pm

Achoka you made my night… These are the sigalame Chronicles…
Love it brother..

    Achman November 1, 2018 at 11:53 pm

    Hahaha, thanks Bw. Marisia.

Awuor November 2, 2018 at 8:25 am

😂😂😂 hilarious

    Achman November 2, 2018 at 4:29 pm

    Hahaha, thank you for stopping over, Awuor.

Levi Wafula November 2, 2018 at 1:56 pm

Hahaahaha, just couldn’t stop laughing, especially the part where Osinya would stick his head between the space of the toilet. Uyo mse alkua tu funny

    Achman November 2, 2018 at 4:31 pm

    Hehehe

Robert Wanyama November 6, 2018 at 8:13 am

Hehehe great memory memories Achoka. Funny high school events. Am yet to know kama ulipata uniform ama ulienda assembly naked.

    Achman November 6, 2018 at 8:40 am

    Hahaha, you know necessity is the mother of invention… Something had to be done bwana

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