Storymoja Festival: Reading is so cool!

I was washing the dishes in the kitchen one day when Hailey brought her plastic chair and sat behind me. She had her bible story books in her hands. She had; The Miracles of Jesus, Joseph and His Brothers, and The Birth of Jesus. I asked her what she was up to and she told me that she wanted to read. She started reading quietly. “Why don’t you read aloud?” I asked her. She read aloud and I listened as I did the dishes.

It was an interesting dish-washing experience. I got to listen to my six year old daughter read and I was able to teach her how to pronounce difficult words in the process. I am happy to have a daughter who reads because reading is a good thing.

I remember my father buying us storybooks when we were young. Each one of us owned a book that we held onto for a long time. They included Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Charles Dicken’s Hard Times & David Copperfield, and Anthony Hope’s The Prisoner of Zenda.

Growing up, I saw my father grab a book and get immersed in it so dedicatedly. There was a shelf full of books (which exists to this day) from where we would once in a while make our own selection and share in the reading  experience. That experience was invaluable.

Since then, I have read books that left me shaking my head in disapproval or nodding my head furiously in approval. With every book, I have been able to learn. A lot. My emotions have been stirred by authors who made me cry and laugh. I have been angered, while on other occasions, I have been deeply impressed. Books have had me thinking about stuff. I have changed my opinion about stuff. I have made discoveries, travelled to different worlds with different people in different times. Reading has made me learn. It has made me write better. Speak better. It has helped shape my dreams. It has sharpened my mind.

I am glad to have had the chance to peep into the reading culture and entering deeper and deeper, to a point of no return. I am aware of the transformation that happens between the time one opens a book to begin reading from the first page, to the time one closes the same book having read it to the last page. I am privy of the fact that every book one reads does not leave one the same way it found them. That we learn from each reading experience. I want the same for my children.  

Reading is cool. I know that. Do you know that? The Storymoja Festival begins this Wednesday the 17^th through to the 21^st of September. During the festival, there are events that will be too important to miss. Case in point is the Reading is cool! Kusoma ni Poa!  event that will be held on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday from 8.30 to 9.15am. This reading anthem (click here to listen) will be sung by the Grace Children’s Centre choir. They will perform and launch their CD during the festival. Listen in. Dance to it. Teach it to your children- I intend to teach it to Hailey and Heidi too. Share it and let it become a powerful tool for spreading the reading culture in Nairobi and beyond.

If I will be anything, I will not be that mother who never taught her children the importance of reading. A reading child is a knowledgeable child. A knowledgeable child is a strong child. A strong child is a grounded child, a confident child. If my reading has anything to do with who I have become, then I can confidently say that a reading child is a fearless child. Unashamed to live their lives the best way they deem fit. A reading child grows to become a sage.

During these times when the reading culture in Nairobi has degenerated due to the attention given to video games and cartoons as the quintessential pastime for children, you need to introduce your children to the magical experience that comes with holding a book between their hands. Read for them. Read with them. Encourage them to read for you. Read together. Read.

Since you guys are dear to me, I will give one of you a complimentary ticket to the Storymoja Festival to be held at the Nairobi National Museum. If you are interested in attending the weekend events on the 20^th or 21^st Sept, all you need to do is to email me between now and Thursday at renee.murrey@gmail.com and share with me what your favourite book is to date and why.

The Storymoja Festival weekend events include a session with Dr. Kinyanjui Nganga on Parenting and Marriage, a children’s book launch of The Lizard and the Rock with author Joanne Ball-Burgess, a discussion with award winning Kenyan journalist Jeff Koinange as he talks about his memoir- Through My African Eyes, a Wangari Maathai Memorial Lecture delivered by Nobel Laureate Prof. Wole Soyinka from Nigeria (I know!). There will be exhibitions, talks by Tony Mochama aka Smitta, Caine Prize winners - Okwiri Oduor and Yvonne Adhiambo Owuor (I know!) There will be hot conversations, Poetry, storytelling, Mchongoano, film screening… Go on, hit my inbox and grab that ticket!

Oh, almost forgot - Sauti Sol will also be there. I Know! (sigh!) They together with Berry Heart of Botswana and Dizraeli from UK will steer the Jaza Matatu na vitabu concert to raise money for www.startalibrary.org in order to stock libraries in schools. Storymoja Festival attendees will literally get to jaza matatu na vitabu. Reading is such serious business!

Do me a favor and let your children, your young nieces, nephews, brothers, sisters…this young generation, let them know that reading is cool. Reading is oh-so-cool!

Have a cool week!

WAAAAAH!

WAAAAAH!!!

This is the cry of a manipulative child. It is distinct. It is recognizable. It does not sound like a cry of pain. It doesn’t come close to a cry of disappointment or a cry of hunger. It is worse. It is shrill and piercing to the ears. It is uncomfortable because it is exaggerated.

Adults react to this cry in the way that children expect them to; They wear worried faces. They fear that their child is hurting. They try to find out how they can make things right. How they can enjoy silence again? We do whatever it takes to stop the ‘irritating’noise.

And therein lies the problem.

I am enjoying the company of my nephews and nieces who I have not seen in a long time. We are taking late afternoon tea. Hailey and Heidi are with me and they are happy to be in the company of their cousins. Kids love each others company and to them, it is creed that the more is indeed the merrier. A neighbor's kid comes to join the merry as it is also my neices’daughter’s birthday (hehe, I like making your reading life difficult, don’t I?)

All is well in play and they even sit down to tea. I notice the manipulative nature of the neighbour’s kid early enough. He wants this, doesn’t want that. He wants to sit here, won’t sit there. He needs this, won’t do that. He had a lot of preferences. He had a lot of dislikes and you would be in this child’s beck and call if you were to give him everything he wants.

You have seen that kid right? He is with his mother at the supermarket. Mother gets to till to pay for the the stuff in the shopping basket. Child decides that he wants something. Mother obliges and gets him ‘something’. He is happy. But just for a while. The queue is moving slowly and soon, child asks (nay, demands) something else that catches his eyes. There is so much that catches a child’s eye when you are close to the checkout till; the candy strategically placed at a child’s eye level; the pocket-unfriendly, useless, tooth-damaging, appetite-eradicating, goodies that are there to solely create a rift between parents and their children and so much more. Child demands for something else. Mother is on a budget. She declines and tries to convince child that what she has bought for him is enough, baby.

Baby will hear none of it. He wants what he wants and he wants it now. He gets what he wants or there will be trouble to pay if he doesn’t.. Mother tries harder to talk to him because what he wants is expensive. Stuff that is not in her budget. Stuff that will not feed him, educate him or clothe him. But see, the child does not care about usefulness. He wants it, he wants it, he wants it NOW and ….. WAAAAAH! That distinctive, unmistakable manipulative cry is unleashed!

Frantic mother tries to end the annoying noise. She is wondering what to do to stop this child from embarrassing her. Everybody is looking at them. Watching to see what she will do. she returns something from her basket. One of the useful stuff she had picked. Maybe even something that could have fed, clothed or educated him. She instead puts the useless expensive thingamajig that the child demanded into the shopping basket. Noise ends, there is peace and quiet just like she likes it. Child is happy. Prying eyes look away. There is peace. Are you kidding?

The neighbour’s kid was such child. when he was ready to go home, he decided that he was going with another child’s stuff. ”But those are not yours young man.”he was told. “They are mine! Mine! mine!”he replied. He threw everything he had and demanded to be given what he wanted. WAAAAAH?!

And off he runs to fetch his mother from the adjoining house. We sat still. We sipped our tea.

Hailey tried it once on me. Its a cold afternoon, we are outdoors with family. The ice cream guy comes to where we are picnicking and strategically places ice cream a sniffing distance away from our children’s noses. Hailey takes the bait, tugs the sleeve of my shirt and goes “Mum, buy me ice cream?”I say no, it is cold for one, and two, you have recurring tonsilitis. She starts pleading. I stick to my guns. Seeing that pleading is not working, she unleashes the weapon: WAAAAAH! Everyone looks around. What does Hailey want? Just ice cream? Surely, si you buy for her? It’s only ten bob!? Just buy her the damn ice cream! Someone brought out a ten bob from her purse, “Here Hailey, go buy yourself ice cream” she said. I snatched it away before it reached her hand. “Don’t!”I warned them.

And the crying went on for a while. Everyone was uncomfortable for the time it lasted. But I knew that it was necessary. I did not want to stifle that cry because it came with a lesson that we don’t always get what we want.

The moment you frantically search for something to shut them up or end the disturbing noise, you encourage them to continue being children when they actually need to grow up. It is not something easy to do, but it is something that needs to be done. Enduring that manipulative cry with resilience, helps rid society of the thieves, murderers, and wayward adults who have a demented sense of entitlement.

So next time your child cries for something you can’t give, try and make them understand why they cannot have it. If they are well fed and hunger is not a contributing factor, if their health is not threatened then relax and sip your tea because growth is happening. Allow them to grow up.

Have a splendid week!

What Hailey Knows

Geography dictates that nights are colder when the sky is clear. A clear sky allows heat to escape from the earth to the sky. A clear sky also enables easy visibility of the moon at night. We are therefore tempted to assume that the presence of the moon makes the nights colder while in essence it is the clear sky (which coincidentally enables us to conspicuously spot the moon) that causes the drop in temperatures at night.

And our geography lesson for today ends there.

I am taking the kids to catch the bus to school in the morning, right? It is a cold morning and I lament how cold it is as I pull my jacket to hug my body. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Hailey looks up to the sky and tells me that the reason it is cold is because the moon is out. Yes, it is cold when the moon is out, she shares.

You must have caught on by now that my children have a thing for the moon. This must mean something, and I believe we will find out in due course.

I ask Hailey to repeat what she just said because I can’t believe my ears. She goes “When there is a moon, it is cold” I say ok. Then silence.

We wait for the bus which should be here any minute now. Heidi is standing quietly beside me. I am looking at Hailey just to make sure that nobody made a switch at night to give me someone else’s daughter. She has Hailey’s face alright. I see my cheeks in there. My eyes are looking back at me. Her father’s ears and nose stand out defiantly. Haha..those ears! They confirm to me that I have the right child for sure.

“Who told you that mum?” I ask after the long pause.

“What?” she asks. She already forgot we were having a conversation. Kids!

“Who told you about the moon and the cold nights?”

“I just know” she says as she shrugs her shoulders

“Come on. Who told you” I ask again. Coz really, I need an answer.

“Najua tu!” she shrugs her shoulders again.    

    

Then we see the bus. It’s hugs and kisses. “I love you!”, “Good day!” and off they go!

I am left there standing, and still in need of an answer. Sorry, but Najua tu will not cut it for this mother. Someone is educating my daughter about stuff and I have a right to know who, right? I know for a fact that they are not on ‘The Correlation Between The Moon and Cold Nights’ topic in their Science lesson because 1) She is in class one. So, pleeease! Digital kids or not, NO WAY! 2) I check her books every evening, which confirms point no. 1, that they are still learning the basics. Come on, she doesn’t even know what the word ‘Correlation’ means!

This is what you see when you go through Hailey’s Science book.

When the trees are swaying, it is a windy day.

When the sun is out, it is a sunny day.

When it is raining, it is a rainy day.

When there is cloud cover, it is a cloudy day.

The above sentences are accompanied by ill-drawn pictures of the sun, rains, swaying trees and clouds.

They were asked to carry balloons the other day to learn about air and bubbles and moving air - which is called wind by the way. Hihi…you’re so welcome!

Given the above evidence, I expect weather conversations with her to border along the lines; “Mum, since it is raining, today is a rainy day sindio?”  Yesterday, while reading her Science book, she looked up to ask me whether it is possible to have rainy and windy nights as well. To which I answered in the affirmative.

You get my point?

I need to know who is teaching my baby and the fact that she is not sharing information with me has me worried

This is how it all begins. It’s the moon today, tomorrow it will be the “Birds and the Bees’ story. She is growing so fast and before you know it, it will be time for that talk. I will sit her down and putting my shyness (Yes I am shy… sometimes) aside, I will look her straight in the eye (Oh boy!) and say; “Hailey, I think it is time we had a talk.”

“Ok” she will respond while looking at me straight in the eye. Hailey has a steady stare. She looks you straight in the eye when you talk to her.

“Now, there is a story about the ‘Birds and the Bees’…”

The she will burst out laughing. I will look on with shock.

She will laugh and laugh. Hysterically.

“Hailey, what is so funny?”

“Muuum (she likes dragging the ‘mum’) I know that ‘story’!” She will put imaginary quotes on ‘story’ using both her forefingers.

“You do?!”

She will nod, with a smile on her face.

“You know about the birds and the bees?” I will ask again, unbelievably.

She will nod again, still smiling

“Ok. So you know what the story means?” I will give her a knowing look like…you know.

Then she will nod again.

“…REALLY means?” I will not believe her

“Yes, I know what it REALLY means. It means that children are not bought from hospital. That a man and a woman….”

“Ok! Ok! Young lady! I would like to hear the story from you, but first things first. Who told you the story?”

Then she will shrug her shoulders and say “Najua tu!”

I will lose my mind! I promise you!

Like this information falls from the skies?  

Ok, maybe her teacher mentioned about the moon in passing or she heard a conversation between adults. I mean, kids hear and see things and learn from them all the time. It is no big deal really. The only problem I have is with this ‘Najua tu’ business. Why won’t she tell me? Is this what our relationship has become? She learns new stuff and doesn’t see it fit to share with her mother.

Sometimes it is unsettling that my children are growing up and they are learning so much from so many people. PEOPLE I DON’T EVEN KNOW! From the way those people speak, to what they do and how they carry themselves. They are watching, listening and learning. I wish I could hand pick the people they are allowed to emulate. Maybe even make a list for reference. Once out there, their small minds belong to the world. It belongs to her friends, her teachers and any other person who crosses their path in the course of their day.  

Forget the moon stuff, I can let it go that she learnt it somewhere and won’t tell me about it. Maybe she doesn’t even remember where she got that piece of information from. What I will not take sitting down is if someone else beats me to the ‘birds and the bees’ story. What if someone else out there, teaches her about it before I get to it? That really scares me.

I am therefore watching Hailey closely. I am watching her like a hawk. When she is ready for the ‘birds and the bees’ narrative, it will not slip my surveillance. I will grab the chance and be all over her mind like white on rice. She gets to hear it from me first. I think I earned that right when I pushed her out of me in the delivery room 6 years ago. Once we have had the talk, I hope, oh, I pray that she will come to me for clarity whenever she is confused. O how I pray!

In the meantime, this shrugging and “I just know” business between me and Hailey, needs to stop. It has to.

Do you understand my anxiety? Do you?

Nothing New Under The Sun

I am clicking away at my phone camera taking numerous photos. There are things that don’t happen every day. This is one such thing. You don’t see this everyday!

“Are you taking a video?” someone asks

“A video. I should take a video!” I think aloud as I switch from camera to camcorder. Why did I not think of that before? I hold my phone tighter, keeping it still between my thumb and forefinger, while using my left hand to steady my right hand. I keep taking the video making sure I position the phone to get the best view while at the same time taking care not to drop it and smash it on the floor. A video is useless on a broken phone.

I am standing on the verandah. Door is slightly open as I move the phone around to capture this moment. “Amazing!” I say inaudibly. I smile. Feeling awfully pleased. A blog post weaving itself in my mind.

A few minutes ago, I had rushed outside to get the laundry from the clothes line. It was a Sunday afternoon. Ominous clouds were gathering in the sky, but I thought nothing of it. It threatened to pour any time soon and so I grabbed the clothes in a quick sweep from where they hang, and dashed into the house to avoid getting soaked in the rain.  I had closed the door behind me not knowing that I'd open it again a few minutes later.

During such times, when it is cold and you are cold and it is raining outside, a warm bed is hard to resist. You are tempted to cover yourself with a heavy blanket as you watch a movie, a comedy or a nice series with a cup of tea or coffee or chocolate held hostage securely between both your hands. Before I could eeny, meeny, miny, moe on which of those temptations to fall for, we hear heavy pounding outside. 

The kids rush to the window to see what is going on.  I join them to find out where the noise was coming from. Two minutes of taking it all in and I made the decision to fetch my phone and open the door a fraction.  There are things that don’t happen every day.

Interesting how two people see the same thing and interpret it differently.

On the one hand, one sees an exciting thing worth filming. On the other hand, someone else sees danger and fear creeps up on them to the point of tears.

The spectacle we are all witnessing while photographing and filming is (cue drums) … Hailstones. Yes, it is raining hailstones!

The stones are hitting the roof with a vengeance. Splattering all over the ground and bits and pieces find their way to our veranda. My hands get busy. My phone is busy.

I briefly pause filming to look at the girls now standing on the couch and looking outside the window. Both have quizzical looks on their faces. They look confused!

The hailstones are now filling up the ground. There is more white than green on the grass. They keep falling. They are big. The pounding is loud. It rains hard.

After a while, I go back inside the house, phone in hand. Video clip in phone memory. It is then that Heidi calls me to report that “Hailey analia”

And indeed she is crying. Silently. Fearfully. She is scared. She points outside to ask what is going on. The rain is noisy. ‘Things’ are falling from the sky. I then delve into a brief geography lesson on why these ‘things’ are hitting our roof.

Realizing that I am not making headway with the somewhat complex geography lesson, I give up and instead assure her repeatedly that she is in no danger whatsoever. Heidi, while listening to my explanation to Hailey had just one question to ask: Was there any chance that the falling ‘ice’ could find its way into our house and smash the TV set? (They had been watching cartoons) When I assured her that there was no chance of that happening, she climbed down from the couch and went back to watching Nickelodeon, unperturbed by the noise.

The kids had never witnessed this kind of rains before. It took a while for me to convince them that this was not something new. That sometimes instead of good old rainfall, earth is pelted with hailstones.

Interesting how we see things differently through different sets of eyes. The experienced eye sees opportunities where others see scary challenges. I grabbed the opportunity for photos and videos. I was fascinated by this rare occurrence and wanted to hang onto every minute of it for as long as it lasted. Hailey on the other hand, the poor child, saw a threat to her livelihood! This was all new to her and therefore, something was not right.  It wasn’t supposed to rain this way. This was different. And to some set of eyes, different equals scary.

Next time you go through a challenging experience remember that someone else could have gone through it before you. In fact, bet on it. There is after all nothing new under the sun. Others could have managed to overcome the same to come out unscathed. Just because it is new to you doesn’t mean you cannot overcome it as well. Fearless people have faced challenges over and over again to reach a point where they don’t pay attention to fear anymore.

Hailey’s tears subsided eventually. But she kept looking outside the window, taking it all in until the rains stopped. Once the heavens ceased pelting the earth, she looked at me curiously and asked a question that seemed to have occupied her mind for a while:

“So Mum, can it also rain mud?”

To be a child again

It’s pretty simple, if the bus doesn’t find you waiting, it leaves you. We all know this and that is why on this morning, realizing that we were running late, we tried our best to perform miracles. I beseeched the girls to gulp their tea instead of sipping it with pursed lips as their pinky fingers saluted the sky a la the rich housewives of some city or the other. I tried to make them brush their teeth with the speed of lightening. I even coerced them to find whatever was missing from their bags-a misplaced pencil, book, rubber-as I filled their water bottles. The shoe laces, the jackets, handkerchiefs in pockets.

Sometimes, miracles do happen. This wasn’t the morning for them though. All the above made little difference to prevent us from being late. And just as we were struggling to sling school bags over tiny shoulders we heard the bus come to a halt outside our gate.

We make for the door. Bags slung on shoulders. We are out of the door. We are running. Running like mad. Running like Kalenjins out to win a race.  Then as the bus engine revs and the bus starts to move, I yell for it to wait. “WAIT!” Hailey decides to yell with me. Soon we are one mad woman with two kids yelling and running at 6.15am. The neighborhood is barely awake. I bet they all heard us. I bet one Kipruto was busy dreaming of how well his shamba was doing. How his yields were coming up pretty well. Maybe his wife Chelagat was just turning in bed trying to catch last minute morsels of sleep  before she would wake up to prepare dreaming Kipruto some breakfast. Only for both to be jolted out of their sleep with yells of “WAIT! WAIT!”  I think we owe our neighbors an apology.

Lucky for us, the stars aligned prettily that morning because the driver heard us. Then again, who didn’t? He stopped and waited as I opened the gate, held each child’s hand and lead them to the waiting bus. I tried smiling at him apologetically but he wasn’t into showing teeth at that hour of the morning. I gave up. Just as I was about to lift Heidi onto the bus, she lets go of my hand, retreats from my grasp and points to the sky gleefully yelling “MOON! Mum, Moon! Look, moon!”

I am dumbfounded. In all that rush, she took the time to spot the moon? NOW? I tried to ignore her and put her on the bus anyway but she wouldn’t let up until I acknowledged the moon. So I looked up and put on a smile. “Moon!” I marveled with feigned excitement. Only then did she allow me to lift her onto the bus and Hailey followed suit. After keeping the bus waiting for ten seconds, I wouldn’t dare look at the driver again. First we were late, and now we were holding the bus to stare at the moon? We are terrible, terrible people!

But it was a few seconds that did not really matter to the driver; it did not change his schedule. Those ten seconds however meant a lot to Heidi. She took the time to notice something she felt was quite important. She goes to school every day, but you don’t see a full moon in all its glory in the wee hours of every morning. Just for the record, Heidi was onto something. It was a full moon, big, white and bright. A spectacular sight.

While I was thinking that I should put them on the bus as fast as possible she was thinking that the bus had already stopped anyway, so what was the harm in taking a few seconds to look at the moon. I did not think of that but her 3 year old mind did.

I marvel at a child’s mind. Children perceive the world with awe and curiosity. Look the moon is out! There is a flower! The shining stars! An adult mind assumes it already knows too much. It stops being curious. It doesn’t stop to notice the simple things because we believe we already have all the answers. We therefore deny ourselves a chance to learn a great deal in the process. A bunch of know-it-alls is what we are.

We grownups suck the joy out of life. We focus only on challenges, on bigger, difficult things, while ignoring the simple pleasures. We forget that solutions to complicated matters lie in the very simple day to day activities. An apple falling from a tree is something most of us would not give a second glance. How boring is that!?  Yet Newton the genius was paying attention when that apple fell.

Sometimes, we have to be reminded to stay still and notice what is going on around and within us. We pay for yoga and meditation classes because we really don’t know how to stay still anymore. We are always on the move. We have to learn to focus on our breathing, our beating hearts. Important things that we ignore because we have more important things to do?

I don’t think I like being grown up. Not if growing up means not asking questions, not being curious, not noticing the simple stuff that adults pass by all the time. I don’t want to grow up if I don’t get to play. If it means not getting to experience the magic moments handed to us by the universe.

To perceive the world through the eyes of a child means never once asking yourself what people will think about you because that really doesn’t matter. Not being ashamed of saying the words “I don’t know” and therefore learning something new in the process.

Everybody is in a rush nowadays. But I will stop. I will stop being impatient. I will take a pause, take a deep breath. Turn off my cell phone. Look away from my computer. Wait for the light to turn green before crossing the road. I will stop running and instead kick the pebbles on the road. I will calm my overworked mind. Find my inner child, ergo inner peace.

I will be a child again. Because kids will teach you. Then teach you some more. And if you are a good learner, they will change you.

We almost didn’t cry

There is a place Heidi escapes to when she needs soothing or when she is sleepy. She finds that place as soon as she puts her index finger in her mouth and sucks on it as she runs her other hand on any nearby fabric.

I haven’t told you about Heidi’s first day at school have I? Alrighty then, there’ll be no further ado...

Date: Monday 6th January, 2014. Place: Nairobi, Kenya.  

I wake up at 5am as usual and I sensed, even before dawn broke, that it would be a long day.

The day started at a slow pace with me taking a slow shower “So much time in my hands,” I foolishly thought. I went to the kitchen to prepare tea then heated the kid’s bathing water before ransacking their wardrobe for their uniforms.

All set, I woke up Heidi - better to start with the youngest, right? Wrong! Let’s just say that this is where the rush officially began! Heidi did not wonder why I woke her up early because she knew from the previous day that today was D-day. Waking her up was not a problem. The problem was that she was too excited, therefore playful and fidgety. Bathing an excited child! The rocket science of bathing and dressing an excited child! Has any of you ever tried it? It is messy and exhausting. It involves spillage...lots of it. It requires patience (loads and loads of patience!) and excellent persuasion skills.

I bathed Heidi for what seemed like hours and had trouble applying Vaseline on her. She giggled at every touch “You’re tickling me!” she shrieked. I swear I wasn’t! Tickling her was the furthest thing from my mind. She wouldn’t stop laughing though. She was slow in putting up her arms as I passed the dress over her head. I pleaded, cajoled and begged her to cooperate. I couldn’t blame her - it was after all her first day of school!

I was exhausted even before I started on Hailey. Lucky for me, Hailey was more cooperative and I finished with her in record time. Breakfast out of the way, we made for the door. Rushing like mad!

No sooner had we gone outside the gate, than Heidi’s shoe snapped and the strap came off. Murphy’s law was at work! We had to rush back to the house to get a different pair.

By this time, we were at the epitome of the rush. The eye of the storm - so to speak. The rush was on us like white on rice. We practically ran to the school and funny thing is that the girls enjoyed the run. I think they enjoyed watching me run more than anything else.

You know about school opening days and queues right? They sorta go together like githeri and avocado :-)  (I am writing this post over lunch hour so bear with me) We reach Hailey’s primary school section and there is a queue from here to theeeeereee! The genius in me reasons that we should start with Heidi’s baby class section. I asked Hailey to wait for me at their registration hall as I rushed to take Heidi to her class.

Heidi’s section was also packed. What’s worse is that here, the children are yelling for their mommies and so progress is at a snail’s pace! I decide to stick it out all the same. We got to queuing and our patience eventually paid off. Soon, Heidi and I were strutting from the administration office to her allocated class to meet her new teacher. I crossed my fingers, hoping she wouldn’t cry. She didn’t. There was no sign of a tear. I cautiously bid her farewell and seeing how well she was taking it all, I sprinted to the primary section to find Hailey.

I found Hailey. A different Hailey than I remembered. She was seated with her new friends, chatting away quietly. Happily. No worry or anxiety in her face. I looked at her and it hit me! Like a thunderbolt it hit me: My girl is all grown up! I had never seen her act so mature and independent! Some sort of epiphany was happening; I don’t know whether the sharp contrast between the primary and baby class sections exaggerated things a bit but it was enough to stop me on my tracks. Hailey smiled and waved at me when she saw me approaching.

I really don’t know what I expected. I expected to find her anxious, for her to run to meet me and ask me why I took too long to get back. I expected some kind of childlike reaction, you know? Not the calm, waving, smiling, chatting-quietly young girl I found seated, surrounded by a bunch of pupils. I had to take a moment to take it all in.

Sometimes you think you are watching them as they grow only to realize that they’ve been growing, but you haven’t been watching!

After Hailey’s registration, I decided to pass by Heidi’s class to check on her one last time. You know, see if she is getting along fine with the other kids. I am utterly ashamed to announce at this point that this takes the biscuit for being the biggest mistake of the day, on my part.

Heidi was doing fine alright. Until she saw me. “MUMMY! She was so excited to see me back. “Twende?” she asked. The clever girl thought that 20 minutes of class was enough and it was time to leave!

She came to where I stood talking to her teacher and held onto the hem of my dress. Her index finger swiftly found its way to her mouth. When I tried to convince her to take a seat next to the other kids, she shook her head vigorously. This was promptly followed by frowning. Then the creasing of her face. And then...SWASH! She turned on the waterworks! Seeing my helplessness, her teacher carried her and tried to distract her. At that point I was dying to sweep her in my arms and carry her with me.

When my child cries, I cry with her. She screams and gets tears smeared all over her face coupled with a running nose to boot. Her crying is evident, for all to see that she is unhappy. When this happens, I cry too. Inwardly. Discretely. I cry with my heart. Until her tears stop, only then can my tears dry up as well.

Heidi and I both needed to grow out of this interdependence. So I walked away with tears in my heart. I too was yelling and screaming. I was just as afraid as Heidi was. While she wondered how she’d get through the day without mummy, I thought “Will my precious cope with the new environment, the new faces?”

So yeah. We cried. We yelled. And screamed. But we braved day number one like champs! And now we are doing much better. We almost didn’t cry. Almost. You should be proud of us.

Scramble for Excellence

I opted for the third row from the front, a few meters away from the podium. I sat on a seat at the end of the row, next to a gentleman who was reading a newspaper. There were a few of us. The meeting was to begin at 9.30am. Please keep time, the letter had said. I was twenty minutes early.

When I woke up that morning, Hailey kept reminding me not to be late for the meeting at their school. She kept checking the time as I got out of the shower, as I dressed - she even knocked on my bedroom door a few times. I had to take a few swigs of tea, as she monitored that I don’t get too engrossed in watching the morning news. She pointed at the clock every few minutes to remind me that I had to hurry. “OK, OK, OK!” I resigned to leaving the house way before my scheduled time. 

Thanks to Hailey, I had to wait twenty minutes as the other pre-unit parents took their time to get to the hall where we were to have a meeting about next year’s class one admissions. The few parents who had arrived equally early were trying to keep busy; some were engrossed in their phones, browsing on their touch-screens, Galaxys, Androids, whatnot, while others chattered away. 

I pondered on what to do as I waited. Since the person seated next to me insisted on reading about Sossion and the Teacher’s Union, I was bored. There is a book I always carry in my handbag for moments like this, I remembered. I made to fetch it only to realize that I had changed handbags that morning and taken a smaller one to which I had transferred just my purse, wet wipes, lip gloss, earphones, a notebook and pen. That was all the small purse could carry anyway. No book in sight, I instead opted for some music and took out my earphones. Might as well...

Soon, three nuns walked into the hall which was now full save for a few empty chairs here and there. They were trailed by a gentleman who had a bunch of papers tucked under his arms. I regrettably tuned off U2 & Luciano Pavarotti as they belted out the song Miss Sarajevo into my ears. Awesome song! 

With a word of prayer, the meeting started at 9.48am. A wasted half an hour easily translated into equal length of wasted sleep. How I would have loved to sleep in that Saturday morning - If only Hailey would’ve let me!

They cut to the chase. The good news was that they were ready to absorb our young ones to standard one. The bad news was that there was limited space and our children, our young angels, had to jostle for that limited space. I looked around me and realized at that point that we were nothing more than competitors. This could as well have been an episode out of the series Survivor Guatemala or Caramoan or one of those little known islands. Bottom line, we all wanted the same thing. If it were up to us, we would shove each other shamelessly, elbow each other unapologetically, bribe someone even, use any means possible to get that space. I could see a few mothers I could take down with little effort. The fathers would be a handful but some of them had a small physique and would be no threat, like Mr. Sossion seated beside me, for example.

Unfortunately this was our children’s battle. And being children, innocent and all, they don’t have dirty tricks tucked up their sleeves. They don’t know how to rig or smuggle mwakenya’s to class. Yet. They will sit in a classroom, with their little pencils and little rubbers and with their little hands, they will jot down answers they can remember - If they are not too sleepy, or hungry or simply out of it. What a gamble!

On our part, we will do nothing but break a sweat like we did as we listened to the headmistress. Our hearts pounded as they explained the procedure of admission. Each parent, I am almost certain, praying that their child would be among the chosen few. 

Even as the gentleman stood to address us and went out of his way to show his prowess at dishing anecdotes, creating light moments here and there, advising us that unlike any Kenyan politician, he would not accept any bribes from any parent, we smiled and laughed with nervousness.

The parting shot at 12 noon was a stern warning not to pressure our children. “Don’t transfer your anxiety to them because that might contribute to their failure” Let the children be, they insisted. “We have taught them well, we have given them the best foundation they could ever get anywhere in the world. They are all bright boys and girls”, they assured us. “Sadly, we can only absorb a certain number to proceed with us, and this test is the only fair way to make that selection. Should your child not make it, it doesn’t mean they are weak”

This is just one war I wish I could fight for Hailey, but sadly, my karate skills notwithstanding (or lack thereof), I can’t.  

To calm my nerves as I walked out of the hall, I put U2 and Pavarotti back on “….Here she comes, Heads turn around. Here she comes, To take her crown…” they bellowed into my ear, picking up from where they’d paused. Miss Sarajevo – Listen to this song and tell me if the great Tenor by Pavarotti doesn’t give you goose bumps. While at it, read a bit of the history on war-torn Sarajevo, Bosnia in the 90’s and then you’ll fully appreciate the song. Yes, there is a connection.

Meanwhile, what is it they say; que sera, sera?