Story! Story!

This week we are taking a short break from our #Youreverydaypeopleinterviewseries we shall resume next week because I have a story to tell you that I could not wait!

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The Kiswahili subject teacher walked into the classroom looking pensive, tucked under her arms were Insha* transcripts. One look at her, the pupils became deathly silent. They knew, it was not good news.

Miss Kitabu* was a short, voluptuous middle aged lady with a rigid face that instantly made you confess your transgressions seconds before the cane came stumbling down on your trembling outstretched hands! She was a no-nonsense teacher and many pupils feared her.

On the contrary, she seemed to enjoy her job. Her impeccable mastery of Swahili made her the head of the language department and the patron of the drama club in the school region .

Her strictness was evident in the way she spoke, taught and awarded marks in her Kiswahili exams. Many pupils were convinced beyond any shadow of doubt that, Miss Kitabu deliberately failed them. She would only award ‘good’ marks when she thought you deserved it. “Deserving it” was a privilege that was denied to many.

Barely greeting the classroom, she started handing out the transcripts to their owners by calling out one name after the other. Each pupil would make disappointing faces when they received and looked at their Insha papers. A dark heavy cloud filled the entire classroom, many had failed to meet the required pass mark. This was their mid-term exams.

Miss Kitabu handed all the Insha transcripts except one.

“How many have not received their transcripts?” She asked in a flat voice.

Nobody responded.

She cleared her throat, “How many of you have not received their transcripts?” Then she added, “I will not ask again!” She sternly stared at the pupils who were all wishing they could somehow disappear.

A tiny hand went up slowly, it was a shy thirteen year old girl. As if on cue, the whole classroom simultaneously turned and looked at her perplexed.

“Come up here,” Miss Kitabu gestured towards the girl.

Unsure of what will happen, the girl, hands crossed behind her, walked in small, measured, calculated steps towards the teacher while staring down at her shoes. Several conflicting thoughts were going through her mind.

I must be the worst failure.

My Insha was the worst.

This is my worst day..

“Congratulations!” Miss Kitabu raised her voice. “Your Insha was the best!”

Puzzled, the young girl looked at her teacher.

“You scored the highest marks ever recorded in this class.” She handed the transcript to the timid girl. To the class she said, “Pupils, this is how you should write your Inshas! The story was well written, the characters came to life, the figure of speech was utilized as it should.”

The young girl was astonished.

Miss Kitabu continued, “Please read to the class your Insha. The rest of you listen and take notes!”

Trying to conceal a tiny smile, the teenager turned to face the class and started reading her essay.

That timid thirteen year old, was me, over two decades ago.

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I have always loved writing and telling stories! A childhood passion that was formed in my early teens and being actualised in my mid adulthood . Here is a short romantic story, #Whenlovecamebacktotown! I have published on Amazon and You can read it from there! Am super excited to share it with you!

Tell you what, click on this link below to purchase the E-book.

Then, drop me a review and tell me what you thought of it. If you liked it, share the link with someone else who would enjoy it as well.

Go on now, I cant wait to hear your thoughts on it!

Enjoy!

See you next week!

*Insha- a Swahili essay

*Miss Kitabu- not her real name