When I was young and in primary school, we had formed a gang that included my elder brother and my two cousins (one in my class and another in my brother’s class). To start with my bro was the hardcore type but still performed well in school. He was a leader by default and could organize boys to do the craziest stuff like milking cows at the grazing field. On one occasion he was found eating from a neighbor across the primary school after he realized they did not close the window to their kitchen. You can imagine the shame it brought to my mum
Being a bright goon made his life much easier unlike my cousins who were not so well academically, though they always found themselves part of his crazy boy escapades. I on the other hand was a silent killer who appeared soft but was most often party to such escapades but went unnoticed especially due to my small stature back then. I was so small that teachers pitied me and freed me when working on notorious boys. (Being good in class added to the favors)
On this Sunday afternoon, we were formless. Like guys from shags would probably know, Sundays were off days for most of us. You got to take bath and put on your Sunday best, meaning you could not waste the tidiness by staying at home or returning home early after Sunday school. After all home was for girls and women.
After church on this Sunday my brother suggested we take a “roundi mwenda” to the estates of that time. These were usually places occupied by the affluent families in the standards of shags and usually faced the woods or some hilly place. In our case, it was on the side of our primary school.
We went collecting wild fruits and climbed upon some hill for fun. On getting to the peak we found the cross that Catholics use to act The way of the Cross during Easter. There was a crown of thorns and the cross itself. My brother suggested we ‘steal’ the cross and take it downhill.
The four of us agreed that the younger cousin and I would keep vigil to ensure nobody followed. My brother and his classmate cousin being the stronger ones carried the cross around 1km downhill. Before we got to the river, a school parent saw us and screamed claiming we were disrespecting the cross. We dropped the cross and took to our heels to the shopping centre and later went home innocently, after a spiritual Sunday.
The following day, during assembly after the flag raising, the HT invited the school chairman who also happened to be the local Catholic Church chair who had an announcement. We held our breath not knowing what had brought him to school this early. He furiously called the four of us and made a stern announcement that we were being used by the devil to joke with the church business. He quoted the woman who had ambushed us and how we ran leaving the holy cross lying in the bushes. We were marched to the HT’s office as the assembly was called to an end.
At the office the HT alitupea msomo asking why we allowed ourselves to be used of the devil. “Like you small boy,” he said pointing at me. “How dare you be used by the devil yet you look so small and fragile?”
You don’t need to be told the beating that followed on the older boys after it emerged they were the major perpetrators. The 2 of us (younger ones) were sent to be punished by our class teacher Mrs Kamau. Good thing we were not asked to bring our parents as that would have been suicidal for us.
My brother and cousin were ordered to take the cross back to the hill and plant it back immediately. My cousin and I did not go to class but followed them to return the cross. We sweat like pigs climbing the hill with the cross and the crown of thorns. If bringing it down was tiresome, you can imagine going uphill. It was a task and a half.
Since that time I see people going the way of the cross and shudder at the thought as I recall the way we crucified ourselves