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| Sorry for using a Wikipedia image, but after going through my few photos from Primary school, other than spotting don't-touch-my ankle trousers which exposed my red socks, I also look high in most of them. Miss Kerigo was too serious for photos. |
Back to the holiday, it is a day when one wakes up at 8 Am , only to go back to sleep for an additional 2 hours, oh the bliss. So after doing the above today morning, I woke up, and noticed that my memory, amongst other body organs, was up.
See I have a short memory, I rarely remember anything that did not happen in the last 24 hours, nor anything scheduled and planned to happen in the future. Today was quite exceptional when I woke up and remembered my second last year in primary school.
My primary school years were my golden age, an age when I was such a clever thing, with my report cards full of Grade 'A's. However , class 7 had a hiccup, I got my first C, a grade that I would get to see more of and make good friends with later in high school, and campus. In primary, however, despite getting the grade 'C', it was not in academic, nor in Physical Education - a weekly 40 minute event where I got to see the ball from the edge of the fields. Apparently that was enough to get you an 'A' in PE, which makes me wonder what grade the good sportsmen deserved. My grade 'C' was in discipline, thanks to one 'Miss Kerigo'.
Miss Kerigo was our Christian Religious Education (CRE) teacher in primary school. In addition, she was a relative to the headmaster - nicknamed jizee . jizee was formally known as Mr. Mathenge - who once taught in a neighbouring secondary school. He was also the class 8 mathematics teacher. In addition, he was in charge of whipping those who dropped in Mathematics tests, in the weekly exams. I rarely wa sin his whipping list, given that I scored over 90% in almost everything.
Miss Kerigo's CRE was easy , despite the me falling out with her - my normal score was 27 out of 30. Miss Kerigo was not my class teacher. She was a slim woman, who wore below-the-knee dresses or skirts. She also wore stiletto heels for most of the time. Her walking style was hard to miss, and so was the ko-ko-ko sound that could be heard through the corridor. She walked like, well, like a dinosaur would have walked, if they were alive. It took her whole body to walk, with the body turning at angle as he put each leg forward. It did not help that her hands, folded at the elbow and pointed ahead, joined in this walking ritual.
As for her hair, it was quite distasteful - I later came to learn that what she chose as her hair style consisted of a weave. African women are quite fond of weaves, but more than 90% of those who use weaves look hideous. To be fair, It is only a girl by the name Mutheu who has managed to always look stunning in weaves. The fact that Mutheu family's owns two salon's must be a contributing factor. However, Mutheu's pencil slimness and her half-done hairstyles are a story for another post.
Miss Kerigo was our CRE teacher as I was a joke cracker in primary school. I will always remember an instance where my desk-mate returned from the clinic, just as the bell marking the end of one period of our double-period afternoon Art-and-Craft lesson rang. The whole class including the teacher burst into laughter as I remarked that my desk-mate had missed a period - yes , she was a girl.
However, Miss Kerigo was not fond of me interrupting her class with jokes. She reported me to jizee, and made sure that my class teacher , also our Art-and-Craft teacher, Mr. Kiragu, awarded me no other grade other than a grade 'C' in discipline.
One could not possibly throw jokes around and perform well, in life. How I would later come to prove Miss Kerigo wrong.
I smiled today, as I remembered Miss Kerigo, and my first grade 'C'.
Miss Kerigo, why so serious?