LIFE BY LOUIS: A big, bad bully and my first Ash Wednesday

In a sweet coincidence, In a sweet coincidence, Ash Wednesday coincided with Valentine’s Day. Ash Wednesday is the beginning of Lent.

The day brought back interesting memories of my first Ash Wednesday as a young, inquisitive Class Two boy in Karugo Group of Schools.

I was very curious about how that first Ash Wednesday would unfold.

During the morning assembly, the headmaster announced that those who were from Catholic families were free to go and attend the Ash Wednesday mass in a church across the ridge.

Nearly half the school rose including a majority of non-Catholics. Within minutes, we all disappeared through the gate towards the church in a dusty tumult.

For most of the students, this was a heavenly chance to escape the grueling double maths lessons that marked Wednesday mornings.  

I had not been active in the church before, and I was still mesmerised when our turn came to proceed to the front of the church so that we could get our foreheads marked.

As the priest  moved closer to me, I felt his imposing presence in my young soul. His cream cassock looked impeccably clean and his palms looked white and soft. He clearly did not engage in digging the farms and cutting napper grass and such other difficult village practices. 

We had strict instructions not to rub off the ash, and I duly complied.

Back to the class after the service, I met my desk mate Keziah.

Due to her weakness in academics, she had repeated classes several times and she was about four years my senior.

Class sitting guidelines demanded that boys and girls shared a desk, and I had the misfortune of being paired up with her. Thanks to her superior age and physique, she always harassed me to the point where I nearly quit school.

CLASS BULLY

When she saw me with an ashen forehead, she nearly jumped up in horror. She told me that she was stepping out and by the time she returned, she did not want to see a single grain of ash on my forehead. 

This was one of those momentous occasions when a young lad choses between obeying the devil or standing by his young faith and becoming a tenant in Heaven.

Knowing how Keziah would pinch my thighs under the desk for disobeying her orders, I was tempted to rub the ash. But the reasoning and veiled threats from the catechist about the impending fire of hell for all those who disobeyed the doctrine prevailed. 

When Keziah returned, she was livid about my gross disobedience. As the teacher was busy pointing to the blackboard for us to recite the alphabet after her, Keziah  was busy making my tender thighs sore with her paws.

I didn’t rub the ash, but I paid dearly for it from Keziah’s wrath. 

It was not the first nor the last time she terrorised me until she was forced to repeat classes again, but that day stands prominently in my life where good triumphed over evil.

So, to my fellow Catholics and those who practice the Catholic faith, let your faith prevail over Keziah as we walk with the Lord these 40 days.