Nzomo swears revenge after envious Bensouda ejects her

Nzomo read the letter, tore it into pieces and threw them at the HM. “I knew it but you won’t succeed, Bensouda” Nzomo said. “I am travelling to Nairobi today. So let’s see who is more powerful: my big TSC people in Nairobi or your small people at the county?” ILLUSTRATION/JOHN NYAGAH

What you need to know:

  • “No, Dre,” she said, “you don’t understand women. One female teacher must leave this school. And since Rumona will soon be going on maternity leave, this will give this school a balance.” She insisted that I choose one female teacher.
  • I reminded her that it was actually Ruth who had brought Nzomo to the ground but the HM would hear none of that. “Did we ever have a fight before Nzomo came?” she asked. “We both know the problem is Nzomo, and she is the one who must go.”
  • Noticing the apprehension she had created, she continued. “We all agreed to work anywhere in Kenya so this should not surprise anyone. Even I can be transferred.”

Following the staff room fracas involving the female species of Mwisho wa Lami Primary the other week, Bensouda, our “female headmaster” called me for a meeting the day after.

It has been long since we held such a meeting with the HM.

You see, since Nzomo liked working in my office, and I have been spending most of my time with her – professionally, this did not go down well with the HM and so she avoided me. I wasn’t too happy that Bensouda was cold towards me, but I must mention that such coldness from Bensouda was more than compensated for by Nzomo’s warmth!

“I am sure you are enjoying yourself seeing women fight over you?” Bensouda started as soon as I got to her office.

“No, Madam Headmaster,” I told her. “How can I enjoy such?”

 “I know men; they feel good when women fight over them,” she said.

“There you have put on me, Madam. Umeniwekelea,” I replied. “Everyone knows the two women were fighting over shoes!”

“You think so?” she said. “I am a woman and I know women can’t fight over shoes. Shoes were just an excuse.”

“Anyway, so what do we do?” she asked. “We can’t continue like this...”

“Don’t worry Madam Principal,” I said. Although she is not a principal, I usually call her that. She likes the title.

MY DILEMMA

I told her that I had talked to all female teachers and we had all agreed that they would have to forget all their differences when they come to school.

“No, Dre,” she said, “you don’t understand women. One female teacher must leave this school. And since Rumona will soon be going on maternity leave, this will give this school a balance.” She insisted that I choose one female teacher.

“You know me, I just need to make a phone call and the teacher will go.”

Of course I wasn’t going to choose Nzomo. I would have easily chosen Rumona but being a PTA teacher, she wasn’t transferrable. Mrs Atika and Madam Mary always support my initiatives in the staff room. For obvious reasons, I could not touch Anita. My closest enemies understand that one of my saddest moments a few years ago was seeing Juma snatch Ruth from under my jaws. I have never forgiven both of them.

“I don’t agree with losing a woman, but if we must, then it has to be Ruth,” I said.

“What!” exclaimed the HM. “I can’t lose my most hardworking female teacher!”

I reminded her that it was actually Ruth who had brought Nzomo to the ground but the HM would hear none of that. “Did we ever have a fight before Nzomo came?” she asked. “We both know the problem is Nzomo, and she is the one who must go.”

I may not be very clever but I am also not a fool. I couldn’t argue with Bensouda any more so I agreed with her.

“But don’t let her know until I have her letter,” she reminded me.

Then on Tuesday, we had a heated debate in the staff room. It all started when Bedford, my sister Yunia’s son, came to the staff room to see me.

“Young man, can you have respect? Who is Mwalimu Andrew?” shouted Madam Anita. “Call him using his official title.”

“Excuse me, Madam, may I see the Deputy Headmistress?” said Bedford.

“What!” exclaimed Anita, hitting Bedford on the head using a ruler. “Go back until you learn Mwalimu Andrew’s correct title,” she said, and sent Bedford away.

Once Bedford had left the staff room, Lutta challenged Anita. “Why did you punish Bedford when he was right about Dre being the Deputy Headmistress?”

“Lutta!” said Anita, “How can you even say that Dre is a deputy headmistress?” It was tea break and all the teachers had come in for tea – except for Saphire, who had not even arrived. I joined them.

NOISY STAFFROOM

“Lutta is right,” said Madam Mary, who teaches Kiswahili. “This school has a headmistress and Dre is her deputy so that makes him the deputy headmistress.”

“What do you mean?” said Nzomo. “Dre is a real man; you can’t call him ‘headmistress’.” Everybody was shouting.

“Let’s forget our friendship with Dre,” said Ruth, clearly out to oppose Nzomo. “Every deputy or assistant is always a deputy or assistant to someone. The deputy in this school is a deputy to a headmistress. It’s therefore obvious that Dre is a deputy headmistress.”

Everyone wanted to speak. “You people need to go back to school!” shouted Anita.

“No, stop confusing us, Anita,” Tito shouted back.

We had not noticed a boda boda drop Bensouda and only noticed it when she stormed into the staff room. Everyone scampered to their seat.

“Dre, if you can’t manage a staff room, how can you manage a school?” she asked. “What kind of deputy are you?” There was pin-drop silence.

“Madam headmistress,” began Tito, to the surprise of everyone. “We were just arguing among ourselves; is Dre the deputy headmaster or deputy headmistress?”

“Has he even been confirmed for that role?” she said, looking at me. “Let’s discuss that when he is confirmed. In the meantime, prepare for a staff meeting in 10 minutes,” she said then went to her office.

No one spoke until she returned and started the meeting. “Where is Saphire?” she asked me. I told her that I did not know, and was unable to reach him since he had no phone.

“I wish it was he who had been transferred, instead of losing some of my best teachers,” she added casually. This made everyone alert, especially because she had an envelope open before her.

After finding out about every teacher, she went straight to the point.

“I am from the county education office and I did not find very good news for some of you. I tried my best to reason with the officials but I was unsuccessful,” she said.

“Unfortunately,” she went on, “We have to lose one of you and I do not know when we will have a replacement. But I have insisted that it must be a male teacher to balance things here.”

Noticing the apprehension she had created, she continued. “We all agreed to work anywhere in Kenya so this should not surprise anyone. Even I can be transferred.”

WORSE THAN BENSOUDA

“Don’t go into a lot of stories,” Nzomo said suddenly. “Just give me the letter because I know you started plotting for my exit even before I arrived.”

“You are right and wrong at the same time, Nzomo,” she said. “I never wanted you out, but how did you know you are the one being transferred?” she said, handing the letter to Nzomo. Ruth couldn’t help smiling and I could see her exchanging notes with Rumona and Mrs Atika.

Nzomo read the letter, tore it into pieces and threw them at the HM.

“I knew it but you won’t succeed, Bensouda” Nzomo said. “I am travelling to Nairobi today. So let’s see who is more powerful: my big TSC people in Nairobi or your small people at the county?”

“What did you call me?” Bensouda asked.

“Don’t divert my attention. What you have done actually shows that you are worse than the real Bensouda, but just like her, you won’t succeed,” she said, took her bag and left the staff room.

I was sad to see Nzomo leave. I wanted to follow and console her but at that moment, it was too risky to try that.

“After all I did to defend her, this is how she treats me?” wondered Bensouda. “It is just as well that they transferred her. Let her try to revoke the transfer and she will know why they call me Bensouda.”

“And that applies to every other teacher here who doesn’t toe the line,” she concluded, dismissing the meeting.

We all went to our classes quietly.