This week, I started to remember stuff from my childhood. I think it was sparked off by my Norwegian housemate basically telling me that I am old-school because I approve of spanking kids. She said how she thought my opinion was so 70’s…LOL. I found it really funny that she told me am old-fashioned because she’s mature, and ready to settle down = she’s at the end of her life. LOL. Though I guess a few years will see me on that sinking boat 😦
So, while am still young, I will take a break from my current life, and write a ‘series’ of events from my younger youth. I will try divide them into significant events of different age brackets, so events from 5-10 years, 11-15 years etc.
Back to spanking: Ironically, for a spanking-supporter, I only got spanked 2 times by my parents. The only people that used to beat me (cause that was NOT spanking) were Teacher Christine (pre-unit), Mary (the househelp) and Mr.Njoroge (Mathaymatix teasher).
Teacher Christine (and Amy) are the most vivid memories of my pre-unit 1 and 2. Amy was the love of my life at the time. I still remember the first day of school; me crying after my mum abandoned me and Amy the only kid smiling at me…or maybe she was laughing at me ’cause I was illiterate. SIDENOTE: I met Amy in Psys Westy the night of my uni graduation. I wondered why this hot girl was saying hi to me in slow-motion (sometimes everything slows down when I drink). Anyway, she told me who she was, then suddenly left…but she had a really nice behind, call me Amy!
Teacher Christine had big scary eyes, crazy hair (that blow-dry hard afro look that cucu’s have) and wrinkled hands covered in veins…I guess she must have been pretty old but she used to beat us with the teenage spank she had back in 1920.
One day, she beat me worse than usual and I cried…I cried oh-so hard. After the pain and embarrassment of the public humiliation, I strongly felt that I had to seek vengeance and reclaim my honour among all the distinguished 4 and 5-year-olds, I decided that I was going to kill Teacher Christine, and make sure she never forgot.
I planned her demise with some friends, but right now I only remember one; his name was Ian. 5-year old Ian used to have a neat afro, like the guy that was in that Vaseline hair tonic advertisement. Do you remember that ad? Where the guy wakes up early in the morning, jogs in some farm, comes home and pours like 2 litres of hair tonic into his afro, goes to work and at the end of the day goes on a date with some girl? That’s what Ian’s afro looked like.
Strangely, the only memory I have of Ian is that of him helping me plan how to annihilate Teacher Christine. Him and his afro don’t feature in any other single memory. Maybe we became friends that day, 2 men brought together by the need to assassinate our arch-enemy…or maybe I had imaginary friends and don’t know it.
Ian and I didn’t know how to get to Eastleigh to buy a firearm, and none of us could drive there cause we were only 5, and therefore too short. So we decided that we would finish her off with a knife…as the principal killer, I was going to source for the weapon- and stealthily transport it in my lunch box.
The next morning came. But alas, there was a flaw in our master plan – I had forgotten that my mum was the one who packed my break, and she reached for my lunch box after I had packed the weapon to do just that. She asked me why there was a knife in my green tie and dye lunch box (remember them?). But like any aspiring assassin-child, I was quick on my feet, and told her that I needed the knife ‘to paka Jam’…little did she know that I was talking about human jam. She replaced the sharp knife with a blunt bread knife, those heavy stainless steel ones. DAMN!
Ian and I rendezvoused somewhere at the back of the class when we got to school, and there was also some random chick – I guess she liked bad boys. We huddled around my little lunch box, adrenaline pumping through our tiny veins. Ian, disappointed by my blunt knife, and afro-assassin that he was had a surprise – a back-up weapon. It was this round metal solid thing; that he told me he had found in his uncle’s car… [come to think of it, Ian was a freaking devil-child, he hadn’t even been beaten but he was here being my accomplice…at least I was in it to reclaim my honour. ]
So the plan was that I was going to be the first to knife her, and he was going to hit her upside the head with that metal thing… and the random chick was there interrupting our strategic meeting, daring us to do it, taunting us. I guess behind every assassin, there’s an irritating bitch who drove him to do it.
If you don’t remember a headline in the Daily Nation back in 1992, ‘2 5-year olds stab and clobber teacher to death over homework dispute’ I guess we were not psychos.