Mother Tongue Speaking, Caught Unawares

The atmosphere was tense. Some were shivering others were struggling to put a brave face.

She had just entered the classroom. Despite having not spoken a word, her presence had altered the mood in the classroom.

She was about 35. That was, according to my 11 year old eyes.

Her presence in any class meant one thing, she has come to cane pupils. If she meant to cane you there was no way you would escape.

On this particular day she wore a flowery dress with a white blouse. Her plump body never allowed her to wear high hilled shoes, she therefore had flat red shoes. She always preferred to adorn stockings and during her school assembly addresses she always told us she that Jesus was her personal Saviour.

There is an air of confidence in people who say Jesus is their personal savior, they do not entertain nonsense, at least in public.

In all my encounters with this English female teacher she always had a white handkerchief, a trait, I always spot on rural girls. I have never understood why they prefer to hold their handkerchiefs with their left hands even when they have their handbags.

This lady was not an ordinary primary school teacher. She also taught music but thats not was extra ordinarily about her - she only taught the senior classes of standard seven and eight.

Therefore when on this day she entered our standard five classroom we felt respected by her presence though we collectively knew she was up to no good.

This is because the school administration had appointed her as the official campaigner against vernacular speaking.

All of us, by virtual of been brought up in a rural area spoke, mother tongue. The school administration had felt that for us to prosper academically we had to forfeit speaking our mother tongue or Swahili for the time we were in the school compound.

Thus, the official anti mother tongue speaking campaigner used all methods to her disposal to fight the “vice” within the school compound.

On this particular day when the class was tense, she had entered with her trademark white handkerchief constantly wiping what looked to me as non existent sweat. She also held a small paper and and a cane.

The small paper could not hold more than ten names on both sides but it being in her hands sent shivers down the spine of the fifty odd pupils in that standard five classroom.
“If you know you have spoken mother tongue in the last two days can u come forward and kneel down,” she said.

Rumor had it that the lady teacher had put spies across the school who reported to her on who spoke mother tongue. Nobody ever knew who these spies were.

Since nobody really knew whose name was on the paper we all stood and went in front including Pauline, our respected class prefect.

It was a sunny afternoon and the bad odor emanating from some of my classmates was nauseating.

We all knelt at the front of the classroom and we were so many that the teacher's table had to be hang on the wall to accommodate 50 pupils who had committed the worst crime of all-Speaking mother tongue in a rural day primary school.

We were all caned three strokes of cane each and warned never to repeated the mistake. As she left the classroom she “accidentally” dropped the paper that we all feared.

Later after the pain had subsided one of the most disciplined pupils in the class but had been caned nonetheless went to pick the paper in order to take it to the teacher.

She alerted the attention of Pauline who immediately on examining it changed her face in disgust. Nothing had been written on the small paper. Meanwhile the teacher was in the next class...