As a young kid, attending Mama Ngina Primary School, in Nakuru, I had a bully-Ben. Ben was my classmate, but he was taller than I was, and he was of mixed genetics [call him a pointee-half black, half white]-the traits that made one cool in my day.
I, on the other hand, was shorter than most of my classmates, very skinny-bordering on emaciated-and had a big head [For obvious reasons I was nicknamed the lollipop]. As if those were not enough weaknesses to make bully-bait, I had a brain in my head.
So, as Ben whiled most of his evenings making advances at the beautiful girls, I was busy doing his homework and sometimes polishing his shoes.
At the time, I kept cursing fate for allowing me not to be like Ben-light skin tone, tall, wealthy parents and so on.
But that was then.
I have since grown bigger, my head is proportional to my body and I like to believe I have made some decent progress as far as life is concerned.
Ben, whom I met the other day when I visited my birth town, is a kawaida makanga, operating route 150 [Town, Nakuru West, Ng’ambo].
His teeth, have over years of smoking acquired a brown tan, and his hair…Lord have mercy.
What brings me here?
Reading the AFC story, always takes me back to my childhood.
AFC, I like to think, have it all; A good, polite coach, professional players and loyal fans.
But, unfortunately, they do not want to see it. They would rather focus on the things that Gor Mahia have, which they don’t.
So, instead of working with the coach they have to better the team, they would rather cast him away for losing a few matches, even after winning tens others.
Instead of sticking to their beautiful Isikuti dances when they are losing matches, they would rather do a Gor Mahia-throw stones when Western Stima is crushing them.
I know, in AFC’s eyes, I am as insignificant as the cockroach that has made a home under my bed, but if they would read from my life story, they would know that life always has better things in store.
It takes some little patience.