DOWN MEMORY LANE WITH MADAM RAEL RUGUT

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Photo/facebook: A smile from Rael

By Thomas Chemelil

It is Friday evening. The blogger from the hill is winding off at the noisy Marura market. 

A sea of humanity is gathered here with the hope of salvaging a cheap second-hand item from the mean traders.

The air is filled with the suffocating smell of fish and human sweat.

Unable to withstand it any longer, I choose to take refuge in the peaceful environment that is my abode.

As I get out of the market,  a dark car pulls by and, to my surprise, somebody  shouts my name from the confines of the car. The echo of her voice reverberates from the car.  The voice is familiar.

As I edge closer, the unmistakable smile of madam Rugut greets me.

"Brother Tom," she shouts . Wow! What a re-union! This was the beginning of one of the best chicken eating sessions of my life.

My journey with Madam Rael Rugut began way back at the only school that bears the name and weight of a District- Marakwet High School.

I recall the passion with which we injected in the English Department with Madam Rael Rugut.

I lack words to describe the passion of this Nandi lady. It will be an understatement to say she is a workaholic. How else would I describe her passion for duty and the humane approach she has to her students?

Over a drink, we wash down the memories of an  epoch era at Marakwet Boys. Even as we speak, the unmistakable aroma of a frying chicken interrupts our senses!

As you guessed, Charles Nyachuba comes into our talk. Those who don't know Nyachuba or Nyachush as his students would call him will not mind to be told that he is the finest Fasihi teacher in the whole of Marakwet. He was and remains the most respected Head of Department we have ever worked under.

Madam Rugut reminds me of the good moments we shared at MHS. As luck would have it, we shared adjacent houses. She would always call me Jirani, a name she still calls me to date!

We dwell on the various challenges we went through to ensure that we gave our learners a decent learning. Johnstone Bulowa, the Principal who was called Mr. Jonathan Nwege by cheeky Literature students floats into our talk. This nickname was to land us in trouble with the authorities. Our only crime was to teach passionately Chinua Achebe's 'A Man of the People.' The students allowed the characters to spring out of the novel.

What a wonderful moment this was. The waiter interrupts our talk.  It is time to devour the fried chicken. I settle on the wings of engokho with the passion of a starved mluhya. I am tempted to roll my ugali into a hard ball, but we are in a civilized Guest House!

Hahaha. It is time to part. A warm handshake to bid each other bye. I wont mind such an evening again. Furahi days should be like this always. Adieu my readers.

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