Reflections of a boy from Mariakani

The Centennial Spark

By Emmanuel Chenze

I have an uncanny way of relating to things and periods with words I learned or heard for the first time. Or songs I was listening to the most at that time. Like, I can remember very well the first time I learned that the "s" in island is silent, back in class 3. I'm not sure if those who studied the New Friends English book remember. For 2006, the word I associate with the most is actually not one word but, rather, two: five score. That's because I heard a lot of it on the hallowed Maseno School assembly grounds. Especially from the school captain that year, Steve Bala. 2006 will be remembered for many things. From Zidane headbutting Materazzi to the completion of the mapping of human DNA to, for myself and thousands of others forged by the fire that burns beneath the Maragoli hills, being the year that Maseno School marked its centenary.

Friday, 27th January 2006 marked the second beginning of a lifelong journey with Maseno. You see, I have a specific obsession of referring to my beloved alma mater, Maseno School, as simply Maseno because, in its earliest form, that's how it existed to me. Factually, well, everything Maseno came as a result of the school. The university, the town, name it, they're all courtesy of the school that the Church Missionary Society (CMS) missionaries under the leadership of the Reverend John Jamieson (JJ) Willis started in 1906 under the Oseno tree.

The iconic Rock of Ages Chapel, where the writer served as the Chapel Captain between 2008 and 2009.

The wisdom of the Old Man

My very first encounter with Maseno had been a year earlier, in early 2005, when, as primary school candidates, we were tasked with identifying and selecting the secondary schools we wanted to go to upon sitting the Kenya Certificate of Primary Education (KCPE). Not knowing much about the schools on the list that had been presented to me by my class teacher, I did what anyone would do: I sought advice. The greatest influence in my life and my mentor is my grandfather, so, naturally, I turned to the old man for guidance. It turned out to have been one of the best decisions of my life.

While I had become aware of Nairobi School because the previous year's top student at my primary school had ended up there and knew about Starehe Boys' Centre and School because it had topped KCSE that year, there was another institution that would win my heart as it dominated the National No 1 Quiz Challenge that aired on KBC TV: Maseno School. Led by a team that comprised of someone I'd come to later learn was the school captain, Mark Odanga, they whitewashed Mang'u High School in the final. Maseno School would also be the institution that my beloved grandfather would, without being explicit about it, lean me towards. He simply pointed me the way of two of his friends in the judiciary, the late Justice Samuel Oguk and the retired judge, Richard Otieno Kwach.

Justice Oguk was my grandfather's senior in the judiciary. As was Justice Kwach. And, they had one thing in common: they both went to Maseno School. In fact, Justice Kwach was the chairman of the Maseno Old Boys Association (MOBA).

So, Maseno School it was! The task ahead was to get the necessary marks to get there. Honestly, up to that point in my life, that had never been a problem. Having topped all my classes up to that point, it wasn't a surprise when, at the end of that year, I had what I needed to join the esteemed institution, which had ended up being my first choice in the schools selection.

The First Baptism at Equator Park

And so, on a sunny Friday afternoon, I found myself in front of the famous Equator Park, metal box in tow, and headed to the Boarding Master's office. The Boarding Master, or BM as I would later learn that everyone called him, coincidentally had the initials BM to his name - Benjamin Moses Okoth. He worked with a young lady who was on teaching practice from the nearby Maseno University, called Mrs Madara. Those are the people who admitted me to Maseno School - of course after my dad and the chairman of my primary school's PTA committee, who had accompanied us, had already had a conversation with the towering Principal of the school, the late Paul Otula, since I did not have all the boarding items and I needed his okay before I could be admitted. There were no queues on that day, and there was no waiting period as the school programme had returned to normal, as the form 1 admission day had been four days earlier - I was late.

There was an immediate culture shock in the form of the school's dress: junior students (form ones and twos) wore shorts. Coming from having worn long trousers since class 4, that was quite something. However, the promise of Maseno was that this was different. And, different it was.

William Apollo, who would later be our House Captain at Willis House where I was admitted, was at hand to whisk me to my house immediately after the admission formalities were completed. I would later learn that he had been called up from class (form 3G at the time, if I remember correctly) to do so since he was a Senior Boy, the last stage in the school's strict administration system before one could become a Captain - or prefect as others call them.

And so began my life in Maseno. A land that was a mix of unbearing heat by midday and freezing hailstorms by nightfall, a complete 360 from the hot and dry weather back home, nearly 1,000 kilometres away.

Character, Competence, and Classwork

Over the next four years, what I would witness would become the bedrock and foundation of my adult life. The Maseno spirit, as Mr Otula called it, was founded on an acknowledgement of Kenya's very existence as a nation state and the need to provide the African male child with holistic education. The school took its national status seriously and we were constantly reminded of this from the first session we had with the principal in the chapel on that very same day I reported to my last service at the St Paul's Chapel (Rock of Ages) in November 2009. It is at Maseno, over those four years, that the differences we carried ourselves by way of where we came from, the languages we spoke and the social status of our parents dissolved when we adorned the white and grey uniform. We became one. What mattered was, in the words of the independence-era principal BL Bowers, "Character, competence and classwork."

For the uninitiated, this is one of the reasons why many of us, despite what we do later in life and what we become, we still have Maseno as our true North. Maseno showed us, at a time of childhood innocence, teenage curiosity and rebellion and the impressionability of youth, that we could still be a country. It didn't matter where you came from or how rich your folks were. Our heroes were our peers who were the finest school sportsmen the country and the continent had ever seen. Our peers in classes ahead who'd always top the country in KCSE. Our schoolmates who'd traverse the country in Science congresses and Maths contests and emerge top. Our classmates who would just get everything in a Maths paper we were very convinced wasn't meant for students at our level. Those who went ahead of us like Dennis Young at Yale – Mr Adit would never stop talking about him. Those who spawned excellence like Barack Obama Senior, a Willis house member like myself, and whose son, the man we would all later know as President Obama, was a source of motivation and inspiration for the school’s oversupply of orators. Excellence is what mattered. And you hurt and promised to fight back to reclaim your spot at the top when you fell short.

The Second Baptism: A Lesson in Humility

The classwork bit was especially hard. At the end of the first term in Maseno, I ranked 113 out of 252! From being top of every class in primary school to barely making it to the first half of the student roll. As if that wasn't enough, Maseno had this culture of having your Exam 1, Exam 2 and Exam 3 (end of term) results juxtaposed with your KCPE marks. You know, just to remind you who you once were. It was my second baptism. An induction into a special class of men who were also just as outstanding as I was where they came from. The stakes had changed, the ground had become level once again and I had to stay competitive. To reinvent myself. The past no longer mattered. And thus began the many lessons of life that Maseno taught us. The following year would end with me being the second most improved student in form 2, entering my form 2B (Blue) class's top 5 and staying in its top 10 for the remainder of my time at Maseno.

Custodians of Excellence: The Teachers

One of the defining elements of life at Maseno was the teachers. During those four years, we were guided by an extraordinary faculty a mix of personalities who didn’t just talk about excellence but toiled hard to achieve it themselves. From Mr. Adoyo punishing a whole class for poor rankings to Mrs. Ogolla sheltering me when I was stranded without fare, they shaped us. There was Reverend Kola, the school chaplain, who told me I was likely to end up in the media, surprisingly I did!

Among those who shaped the Maseno Man in me through firm standards was Mr. Wasonga (now Dr. Wasonga, a celebrated university don and trade union leader). He was a man of principle who would refuse to hear any excuses regarding unpaid holiday tuition, even sending students all the way back to Mombasa to ensure the rules were upheld.

A Guiding Star of Nostalgia and Gratitude

As Mr. Otula would so often remind us, Maseno was not the buildings, it was the person. Over my four years along the Equator, I made lifelong connections and brothers from all corners of the country and beyond. The diversity, the instilling of values, and the inculcation of leadership skills are my guiding star every time I am in a position of responsibility. I look back at the 20 years since I first walked towards that gate with a mix of nostalgia and gratitude. Long live Maseno! Maseno Strong !

The writer was a Chapel Captain and is a Maseno School Old Boy, Class of 2009