BORN TAO: A treat from a goody two shoes goes awry

Fredy was not always a ninja, in fact, he was the model student – he never missed Sunday School, never played in the dark in the evening.

He was an obedient and diligent child who did his homework and presented the diary to his parents for marking, unlike me who had mastered the art of forging my mother’s signature to sign my diary.

Fredy’s fame spread like wildfire in our estate. His good behaviour was a topic even in women’s guild meetings. And at school, teachers awarded him for being the most disciplined pupil.

Then one day he just snapped.

MISCHIEF

We had just graduated into upper primary and this called for a celebration at the famous ‘Ice cream za Mzungu parlour’ and a movie at Freemans Videos -- Rambo:First Blood Part II by Sylvester Stallone.

And guess who was financing all the fun? None other than Fredy.

He had a Sh200 note and that was in the 1990s when that amount of money, and especially at our age, made you feel like a millionaire. He was ‘stinking rich’ and he wanted to prove a point. As for the rest of us, we welcomed his godsend generosity with open arms.

We were known as the three ninjas – Sammy was fairly taller than us and he was the attack hound whenever a fight would brew; Kamos was the smart mchongoano guru; and I was the one turning conspiracy into reality.

We shared great ambitions, like buying the girls in our class ice cream and sim sim at break time, watching video shows at Freemans’ and enjoying ‘mtura’. Since our parents believed giving a child money was morally wrong, our plans hardly ever turned into reality.

Fredy was an answered prayer and his money would oil our plans.

We sneaked out of school during the 3.15pm break through the teachers’ quarters gate while the watchman was feeding rabbits at the agriculture club section. Fredy, who was very green to mischief was trailing way behind us and he looked like he wanted to chicken out.

We walked into a thicket where we had hidden some clothes and changed into home clothes to conceal our identity.

Since Fredy had never done this before, he did not anticipate having home clothes for this mission.

ICE CREAM AND A MOVIE

Kamos suggested we abandon the plans because Fredy’s school uniform might draw attention from concerned citizens or teachers.

I assured them the plan was intact and, besides, our parents got home at 5.30pm while teachers had to mark our books as they sipped tea in the staffroom at 4pm.

“Jambo,” Mzungu said as he ushered us into his ice cream parlour. Primary school pupils were his favourite customers.

As he served us vanilla ice cream in medium-sized cups, he enquired why Fredy was in school uniform while the rest of us were not.

We were silent for close to 10 seconds...

“We have been sent home after we were found fighting in class,” Kamos answered.

“We were playing wrestling, not really fighting,” I added.

“Enjoy your ice cream then,” he said, nodding his head.

Mzungu handed back to Fredy Sh100 balance before we left for Freemans Video.

Freeman, being a crafty businessman running an unlicensed video hall, did not bother us with unnecessary questions. Fredy paid him and he ushered us into the pitch dark room echoing with the sarcastic laughter of Dj Afro introducing the movie on the 21-inch television set.

The room was very hot with the strong odour of cigarettes and miraa. We didn’t mind sitting on the floor as all the seats had been taken.

Watching Rambo beat up bad guys was like visiting Disney World. Fredy was thrilled; his face brightened as he supported his head with his arm and his eyes trained on the television set that was locked in a metallic box attached to the wall.

MEDICAL EMERGENCY

Halfway through the movie, Fredy collapsed, breathing heavily. I shouted for help. Freeman opened the door and rushed towards us. He carried Fredy outside, placed him on the ground, and unbuttoned his shirt.

We stood there perplexed as Freeman offered to take him to a nearby clinic.

Shortly after being examined, the doctor called us and said we should go to his home and inform his parents. Involving our parents meant they would find out that we had sneaked out of school. None of us was prepared for the consequences.

Sammy was quick to tell the doctor that we met Fredy at the video show, and we did not know where he lived. By now, Fredy had gained consciousness. But the doctor wanted to have a word with his parents, and he also wanted to be paid.

He went through the phone directory and called the school, asking to talk to the headmaster about a medical emergency involving one of his pupils. We did not wait for him to arrive at the clinic -- we ran home.

The headmaster paid the medical bill – Fredy had suffered an asthmatic attack – and demanded to know what he was doing in a forbidden video den and why he had left school earlier than usual.

Fredy spilled the beans. And before driving him home, the headmaster called each of our parents and requested them to meet in his office the next morning.

It was during our interrogation that we learnt that the Sh200 Fredy used to spoil us was meant for extra tuition classes.

Needless to say, our punishment was punitive and severe.

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