A plea from a songbird — Remembering the Kakamega Primary School tragedy
Dear Mama,
Usilie. Please don’t cry. Niko sawa sasa. Please try to stop your tears. We are ok. The pain has stopped. Please tell akina Angela sina uchungu tena and I’m still their sister. My head and body are no longer umizaring me. But it hurt so bad that day. Worse than when I fell off the tree last year when we went to visit kukhu’s shamba in Senede. I think it hurt so bad because you weren’t there to poesha the pain. And because it was pain that was blocking my heart and my whole body was crying. It was crying for you to come and help me. It was crying for you because maybe it knew that it was not going to go with you poesharing me. It hurt in a different kind of way, Mama.
Maybe, if I covered my head and ears vizuri, you would not have had to cry the way you are now. I don’t like it when you cry like that. When your chest ngurumas and your voice sounds like Uncle Maloba’s cows when they are not well. I’m sorry, for not protecting myself better. I don’t like it when you cry in your singing voice. I did try to protect myself, but it was the screaming from the other children that I wanted to drown out. I could hear Venessa and Lavenda’s voices so well, they both kept on going ‘wacheni wacheni’, until I could only hear Lavenda’s voice. And then, silence took her voice too. They were both in 5P. You remember you used to laugh at me because I use to go around listening and grading people’s voices. You used to think me silly, but I was building my dream choir and I was also looking only for the most perfect voices. Lavenda and Venessa were already in my choir. I could hear their screams over all the others. I remember when I couldn’t hear their voices anymore I started screaming too, louder and louder. But I had no voice. The screaming was only in my body. The pain was too much. And my heart…me sijui. I didn’t know you could still shout from inside of you and nothing comes out. I was calling for you to come and tell the other children to stop hurting me. To stop the feet, to stop the pain, to stop the screaming and to stop the bodies from falling and using me as a mattress. Using me like a carpet, kanjagaring me with their new mwaka mpya shoes. There was no room to breathe and maybe that’s why you couldn’t hear me. There were so many Mamas being called. I just wanted the screaming to stop. Mama, I kept on calling your name but my mouth refused. It just kept calling for hewa and not you.
It was so dark and cold, Mama. Not even my new 2020 sweater could keep me warm. Why does the body become so baridi when it is afraid? I was not scared of the darkness of the stairs. I knew it, we all did. We pandad and shukad those stairs every day. It knew our laughter and jokes. But that day, the darkness became unfamiliar. It became even darker. There was so much happening at that moment. Fear was also there with us. The walls refused to hold our hands and were slippery like someone had pakad mafuta. And the steps became slides.
Mama, I want to tell you what happened, but we have been told our voices are no longer for your ears. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to show off my beautiful uniform to you every morning. My light green dress, dark green sweater, and white socks will no longer we be part of your morning fashion show. I’m sorry I only got to show-off my new laptop bag to you only once, but you can now use it for your work. I’m sorry you won’t get to hear me sing for you as I prepare for the music festivals. Your lisoko, your weaver bird is now silent to your eyes. Tell akina Angela, they will have to sing now so that they can bring you the basins and buckets that I used to win for you. But Mama, they’ve told me that I can sing here as much as I want. When you hear the birds every day, know that I am singing. When you hear the wind travel, know I am humming, and when you hear the rain thunder know that I am dancing. We are all doing that. All 15 of us, kisha we have joined the others from Precious Talents, Moi Girls, Bombolulu, Kya…Kyanguli, and even St Kizito. Though, they have been singing from kitambo.
Even, though I am happy singing Mama, I won’t be able to become a teacher like you. How I used to dream of being called Teacher Antonnet. I used to look at you and Teacher Florence, and say, ‘one day, me, I will also be a teacher’. I was going to have my own 5V, give out homework, have a red pen for marking, a whiteboard or a projector like the Nairobi schools and not have chalky hands that gave you homa. Like you, I won’t be chaparing pupils, I will be friendly but kali with my mouth. I was going to be the most elegant teacher the Kakamega Primary would have ever seen. More elegant than both you and Teacher Florence! And then, not only was I going to be the smartest teacher, I was going to be seen on TV with many children surrounding me and the media asking me questions for being the number one school in the country. I will have taken over the office of Headmaster Dickson and tell Kenya, our school motto, ‘Knowledge is power’, would be the example for all schools in the county and country to follow. I was going to have been awarded the best teacher in the world like Teacher Tabichi.
But Mama, why has Kenya forgotten us so quickly? It’s over a month now since I left you. Have they not told you why we run out of class?? Why did boys keep tripping girls down the stairs? Why the floor was slippery that day? And is it true they say we saw a ghost? Have the teachers come and told you what happened to us? I’m sure they will tell you, since they know us, right?
Mama, I saw you speak so beautifully at my celebration. It was better you spoke there and not Bukhungu where only big people spoke like for kura. I was happy you spoke in Serende. Your voice was shaky, but you were strong for me and my sisters. I like the photo you used for me. You knew that was my favourite, because I was wearing my favourite red top. I liked your white dress too, but now white will always be a sad colour for me.
Mama, please ask Kenya to ask the teachers why they were in the staff room and not in class that day. Maybe things would have been different, sindiyo? Do you think they were having tea because of the meeting you had come for? Ask Kenya to tell you why we only had one staircase for all us and the teachers’ had theirs even though they were not many like us? Why the Uncle Boda Boda told you I was missing and something bad had happened to me and not the school?
Mama, you remember kitambo when I asked you why they stopped us from going home at three thirty so that we could stay in school, mpaka five? Sijui, you said it was because of remedial classes, though I said it was like those days of tuition of zamani. But you told me it was because teachers like to teach. Tell Kenyans remedial is tuition and that is why we were still in school at that time.
Please don’t cry and please don’t remove akina Angela from KPS. I know it will be hard but I’m scared if you move them, they will forget not only me but all of us who now sing. Tell them, we left no blood so that they can go back to school easily. But if there was damu, even I would have refused to go back.
Mama, I know it is hard but when you have time, please go tell Mama Venesa of 5P pole. Venesa used to boast that she will get 470 points and will be seen on the seven and nine o’clock news. Did I tell you, she had only been in a school for one month? Her and Prudence of 5V were new to KPS. Prudence was mpole because they had just zikad her father. But now they are singing duets here. Mam, did you know Prince was his mother’s only child. He was in 4G. Maybe sharing tears with his mum will make your pain go faster? There are three from their class here with him. Even June, had just moved to school. We never spoke because she was in Grade 4, but now she calls me her big sister. Tell Angela not to be jealous. I will also be her sister. Always.
Mama, please don’t cry. Please don’t be angry with me. I tried to finika my head and my ears. But the feet and the screaming was too much. I’m sorry you didn’t find me in the hospital beds with the others, but you found me on the floor in front of all the others. I made sure you would not struggle to find me. I even made sure that I looked like I was sleeping.
I want to tell you so much. I want to ask you whether your homa has gone. I’d want to show off my new laptop bag to you again and again. I’d want you to hear the new choral verse we’d have sung at the festivals. This year, I had a feeling we’d have performed at State House. But Mama, I’m sorry. I know you have many questions in your heart, and you aren’t sleeping well yet. You will, Mama, you will. Our choirmaster here has promised us that.
I have to go now, Mama. We have to practise. And please tell, Kenyans, not to forget us and even though now we sing, tell them we still wanted to dream.
Your daughter and lisoko,
Antonnet Iramwenya
NB: On Monday 3rd 2020, 15 pupils died at the Kakamega Primary School following a stampede. The cause of the stampede is still unknown. The police have promised an investigation into the incident. We are still waiting for answers.
