In fresh trouble for ratting out my colleagues to TSC bosses

Following the challenges that I have been having with my colleagues  at school, I decided to travel to Nairobi to look for a transfer – since it was becoming almost impossible to work here.

As the Chinese say, there comes a time when a man’s interests are more important than the man himself. I did not seek permission from Bensouda, and only sent her an SMS on Monday morning, when I was in Nairobi already.

“Please note that I have travelled to Nairobi to sort a pressing personal issue,” the SMS said. The response was immediate, and terse: “It better be a personal issue!” she texted.

As he went to work, Pius dropped me at TSC offices, in Upper Heel. It was a little bit early so I decided to walk around to buy time.

There were so many big buildings around, some of them still under construction. I must have gone too far in my walking since I had difficulty locating TSC when I walked back at around 9a.m. I got it finally, and walked in, then asked for the staffing officer of our county.

I was directed to him and I was lucky to find him at his desk. He greeted me without looking me, and then sent me to someone else “for clearance.”

The man I was sent to was a little old, and had some visitors in his office so I sat out waiting. Although I didn’t know what they were discussing, it was clearly not official matter. At some point, he let them just sit as he worked. Seeing this, I went and knocked again.

“Are you a teacher?” he asked me. I said yes. “From which station?” I told him that I was from Mwisho wa Lami.”

He then asked who my headmaster and county director was, after I told him he retorted: “They have never told you that you always need to be patient when visiting any office?” he asked. I apologised, and kept waiting.

Long wait

It was around 12.17a.m. when his guests left and he beckoned to me to go in.

“How is madam Skastina,” he asked me when I walked in. “She was my high school classmate,” he added. “Is she still beautiful and slender?” While I disagreed with the description, I agreed.

“Anyway let’s get down to business, do you have written permission from your station to visit our offices?” he asked me.

“I don’t have by my HM is aware,” I said.

“She is aware that you are in our offices or she is aware that you are not in school?”

“Both the two of them,” I said.

“Can I call her to confirm?” she asked me.

“Sir, you don’t have to call her,” I told him.

“Then show me the written evidence that you should be here,” he insisted.

“You proceed to go and see the staffing officer, but see me after that to advise you on the way forward,” he said.

It was almost lunch time, and the staffing officer was just walking out of his office. “Please await until after lunch,” he told me and walked away, as if he was anticipating something from me that was not forthcoming.

He found me there when he returned. He was on phone, after which he called me in.

“Mwalimu it is going to be difficult to assist you since I have been informed that you do not have permission to be here,” I pleaded with him.

“Most schools on your area are understaffed so I am not happy to see you mangamangaring here when you should be out there teaching.”

“Anyway what brings you here?” he asked.

I explained to him that I was having challenges at my current station and needed to be transferred. He asked me to clarify.

“Basically, I have differed with the HM, who is protecting another teacher who recently slept with a school girl. The HM is also rarely in school,” I said.

I went on: “We have two other teachers that are rarely in school. Oscar was sent to our school this year and I can count the number of days he has been seen in school. Saphire also is always in the villages drinking.”

“And what have you done as the deputy?” he asked me.

“These teachers are shielded by the HM and there is nothing I can do,” I said. He then asked me about all other teachers like Mrs Atika, and told him all I knew about them; including telling him that Madam Ruth arrives late and leaves early. The other officer joined me and also inquired more about other teachers in the school. “It is a wonder we performed how we did in KCPE,” I added.

Promised action

“We appreciate such feedback and we will get back to you in two weeks’ time regarding your transfer request,” the staffing officer said. I bid them goodbye and left. I was, however, not convinced that two would assist me, even as I left.

I was, therefore, not surprised when that evening I received an SMS from Bensouda: “I see you have decided to wash our dirty linen in public? Let’s see who wins this.” I did not respond.

I had just boarded Mwisho wa Lami-bound Msamaria Mwema ready for the return journey that night. I only paid half the fare since conductor that night happened to be a former student of mine at Mwisho wa Lami – the most successful student I had ever handled.

The bus broke down just after Nakuru and so we arrived in Mwisho wa Lami at around 10.a.m the next day. I went to the sleep a little before going to school, arriving at lunch time.

All the teachers were looking at me suspiciously and none wanted to talk to me. They all avoided me like I smelt something bad. Bensouda was in and called for a staff meeting immediately after lunch.

She announced that she would find it very difficult to work with me as the deputy. “I have information of everything that you told TSC about every teacher in this school,” she said.

“I never said anything untrue about anyone and I have evidence to back any claims I made,” I said. This incensed other teachers.

“Dre, please don’t drag our names into your battles”, said Madam Ruth, who has never liked Bensouda since her arrival. “We are quite ok with the HM.”

Oscar too weighed in. “Just because you haven’t seen me in school doesn’t mean I am not working, and if you have any problem please report me to the HM here, not to TSC.”

Except for Sella and Nzomo who did not speak, everyone admonished me. The meeting ended at 4p.m., with the HM assigning Kuya most of my duties including timetabling, supervising other teachers and discipline. I was also removed from teaching upper classes and assigned only lower classes.

That evening at Hitler’s, Saphire surprisingly didn’t have a problem with me. He had not been at school but knew all that had happened.

When I narrated to him my side of the story, he told me that the two gentlemen I had met wear Bensouda’s bosom friends. He asked me if I had given them anything and he was shocked when I told him that I had not.

“And you expected them to help you for free? Really Dre? My friend, prepare for rough time in the next few months,” he said.