Projection Without A Sign

April 29, 2020 0 By Kipkirui Borusei

“We only think as we are, or, and like the trivialization of the Cartesian, ‘I think therefore I am’.”
This is what I read from Austin’s reflections. And yet, it had an impact on my school life at St. Olivier. Mentioning of St. Olivier reminds me of Olivier Mtukudzi, which we, in East Africa know, “What are we going to do?”- that famous song from the Zimbabwean crooner.
But speculations apart, you may be amused or be antsy of what I passed through in that Holy School. When I first joined form one, I had ardent ambitions to be a renowned person and on top, a victor. I reminisce how life went on well until one fateful term, (when the *ingonyet was being conceived) when I was sent home for fees. Owing to the fact that my father was best broke I ought to quit school for quite a while, and being bright, I was employed in a poetic company and was appointed the editor.
I then went back to St. Olivier and I met a teacher friend of mine who not only proved to be my friend, but also as a beacon of hope to me. He made me believe in the success of revolt in the literature world. At times I could skip lessons to have a study on the fields of literature. This made me an hero in the subject and was praised. I would be betraying myself if I do not mention Ignatius whom we could wake up until late night to study, and would also volunteer to teach the rest of the class the basics of literature.
***
That is long before. I started realizing an habit that teachers had: they would impose heavy punishments on students. With my revolutionary spirit I formed a fearless ‘rebel’ group, bolstered by my friend, ‘Manuel Langat; and I named it ‘The Syndicates’. Further, we had a charter: to unchain the victims of teachers’ oppression. My early vision for a free world from students made (and makes) me the boy who thought ahead in St. Olivier. Though my dream failed to materialize before I was toppled in July, ‘inciter’ as I was called, and led light among my colleagues of ‘The Syndicates’.
I combined the power of oratory and mystery. During my long stay at home after the expelling impunity, I joined my wit and established myself as one of the foremost liberators to later come in the continent. I live to be revolutionary, maybe to my death _ I will leave an impressionable mark on the continent.
My strain explanation to Mrs. Stella to let me pack and go and leave the other students stay, makes me a hero and a villain at the same time. My fight for power-offing of oppression_ where I would be caned in the morning and later return gesture in the afternoon_ gave foreign eyes to plot my elimination from St. Olivier.
Teachers variously describes me as having ‘reigned but never ruled’. I was permanently in opposition and it was at the times when I used my knowledge in writing articles and poems and post it on the notice board. And my poems were so influential that they were not only banned, but were also forced off the noticeboard. I believe that these protest poems together with that of my brother played a significant role in the later collapse of the ‘reign rule’ by the teachers that later saw me out of school.
The musical campaign bolstered by the spirits of the rebels and saw the composition, production of many protest poems by Ignatius, who had never set his foot in the Poetic Land but was inspired to join the anti-disciplinary wagon- with some, like me, even stirring controversy when he was accused of breaking the cultural boycott against what I used to hate. This act of ‘defiance’ (according to the school administration) was totally disregarded and I was sent out of school. in my obstinate mood, I swung into action, but in rage of fire of canes, they shot me, though I tried to raise the voices that were low; burnt my hopes for students.
Recalling my times at St. Olivier I always hear people say, “Expulsion changed Borusei, turned him from a fireband to a reconciler.” But to me, I changed most in bringing an immeasurable degree of control over my emotions. “He became so aware that he was in the hands of the enemy being watched 24 hours a day, that he built respect around himself you could penetrate. Such was that a fortress that it took less than two months for Ms. Stella to get into his affairs and burnt his hopes and dreams.”

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This made me remember my acts: I used to clean the whole classroom so that my classmate would not be punished. I used to be the spokesperson whenever there was an issue to pass to the administration. But all was seen as an incitation. What of the times I used to sneak out the library books in order for the students who had lost their books benefit? I could also be the embodiment to the ideal when I once became the Christ for others when I was given the task to represent the class in the debate sessions we usually held. But what came of a high note was when I sacrificed to write to our sister school a love poem, and a girl who later became a teacher at St. Olivier spilled the beans and I was stricken, loathsome to say. What I coined on the notice board that also made me became a respected guy was this:
Crushing a Coined Cane
I have my own view about things around me. It is therefore important for you as teachers to allow us express ourselves. But you have been busy stifling writing talents us purporting useless. This is not the way it should be. It is selfish and unfair to prophesize future of our writing career as not awakening. Inasmuch, you do not bring the way it should be, you are tampering the understanding of my world. Finally, as we read books written by other students, we feel easily identified. We are soon out to mobilize our acts.
The most down heartening time came when the reform group planned for massive demonstration against foes who had picked me as their leader in the fight against drugs in school. What made the cohorts to hate me was that our aim was to humanize punishments and not to use demonstrations. The deputy principal called ‘The Syndicates’ but I stood firm- and agreed to leave in the betterment of the riven world of the students. I gave up my mission and rest assured. I gave up my mission to influence and lead, and knew, ‘The Syndicates’ would be toppled.
Literary, my acts of sacrifice proved vital in my mission to influence and lead. Though the school administration saw me as dead and rotten, I know, even in silence I reign. Even though they snatched my mission to raise the hopeless, my voice, my works are projected without a sign!