It hurts, I shrug... and keep smiling...

I hurt, shrug and smile. 2020

When I was 9 years old CW a known violent bully in Moi Primary pushed me off the stone benches I was playing on. It was unexpected and he simply shoved me off and I fell face flat on the gravel. He walked away non plussed. No one said anything .. a few kids pointed and laughed. 

Shrugs.

I woke up winced and tried to wipe my tunic and clean off the blood on both my knees. I did it with quietly with tears rolling down my cheeks. I remained quiet throughout the day until now 33 years later I have written it down.

One Sunday, when I was 11, DD an older boy from school who was one class ahead of me accosted me while alone near the swings at the Sports Club while I was with there with family over the weekend. He came up to me and threw a 100/- at me demanding that I take it and ‘play sex.’ I gave an incredulous and disgusted laugh saying hell no and seemed surprised... and ashamed. His face turned red and he picked his money walked away fists clenched. 

Shrugs.

DD’s family owned clothes and shoe shops along Kenyatta Avenue and he liked reminding everyone about it as he wore his high end sneakers with luminous shoes laces. He scowled every time we crossed paths after that in school which I thought was silly and childish for a 12 year old. He tried to style his hair and run his fingers through his hair like Amitabh Bachchan in his movie Coolie which was still making waves... the look did not suit him but hey to each their own.....

Shrugs.

When I was 12 my parents finally let me go to Mombasa for a school camp during second term holidays. My best friend at the time IK a class behind me at Lions Primary School got permission too we were the same age even though she was a class behind me. We both took a train from Nakuru all the way to Mombasa it was glorious. At the Nairobi station the majority of camp counsellors and Nairobi kids joined us. It was a mixed group of young-ish youth leaders and kids from different schools and neighbohoods in Nairobi .... it was a Christian camp and so we were hopeful for loads of singing and bible verses and fun and laughter. Also apparently some of the male counsellors were ‘hot’ (I didnt get that vibe and of course now we know why since I prefer women but that would come later) ... all the 12 and 13 year old girls felt very mature and there was a clamour to get the attention of the male counsellors. 

And then ‘guy counsellor’ plopped into me and my best friends life quite intensely and unexpectedly. I cant remember name or face. He was a very very funny and liked to joke a lot.. I say this because all the girls and women laughed and giggled when he spoke. I did not how because was just saying normal normal boring things but for some strange reason girls laughed and loved everything. He was close to my brothers age in my guestimation and I saw that look when he spoke serious looking  girls sometimes got very tickled around him. 

Could be the same jokes.

Shrugs.

People are strange. 

IK took one look at him and swooned whispering he is “the one” before I could ask what that meant....guy counsellor sat next to us in the train.. he kept chatting throughout the night even when I needed him to stop so I nap....and he had a habit of bumping me or when emphasising a point he would lay his hand on my shoulder or lap. It was annoying after a while. By the time we were arriving Mombasa in the morning I was irritated... IK was irritated and it took me a while to realise while I was upset with sticky hands guy counsellor chatterbox person...she was upset with me. I also realised later our friendship ended on that train ride.

Shrugs.

IK and her new Nairobi girlfriends quickly bonded and formed a loud gang that was rather disruptive.  I did not recognise the girl I grew up with..its as though she became someone else overnight. She and I always kept away from bullies at home and in school and now she looked very bullylike hassling the quieter kids. Lets call them the bang gang. Because of their behaviour, it was necessary to have Christian conversations and counselling and this was led by ‘guy counsellor.’ I made a mental note not to be indisciplined because sure as day the report would go to my mother and also I could not imagine sticky hands having a one on one with me. I also do not think he was very good at his job because the more he gave them one one time about changing their lives the worse their behaviour got.  They went off for “discipline talks” almost daily now.

Shrugs.

But it was not all bad because I spent to spend a glorious amount of time swimming... in pools and in the ocean when the water was calm. Sadly not many of could brave the sea and most kids remained along the sandy beach playing in the safety of much shallower water. Stronger swimmers were allowed to swim in the deeper waters but with adult supervision. We were five and I was the only girl there. Guy counsellor was the swimming coach as well. I was not scared of being the only girl because I grew up with two strong big brothers and I always raced swam and played with girls or boys alike back home. At 12 my body was getting rounder and curvier with thick hips... I was a bit curvier than my peers and Mum explained its because of my genes that I looked different and looked more like her people. I looked forward to the end of civil war in my mum’s homecountry so I could walk around freely with people who looked more like me.

She also banned my bikinis and high cut swim suits in my wardrobe. I was told they were  ‘no longer appropriate’ before I knew what the words meant. 

Shrug.

I now wore a blue and white swim suit with a modesty skirt. I was still great at ‘going underwater’ games and won the challenges on coin collecting in the pool or swimming far out close to the floor of the ocean.  The skirt never got in the way of my swimming neither did it really cover the fact that my body had been changing.

Back at the beach showering off an unending amount of sand in my body....gang bang had been quietly smouldering...I did not see them following me to the changing room. Nairobi girl A shoved open my booth at the exact moment I was stark naked costume peeled off and on the floor. Nairobi girl B and IK asked me if I thought I was ‘special’ with my hips in a sneering way. I grabbed for my towel covering myself, hot tears burning as I could hear other kids both gasp and giggle... at them...then at me ....and at the whole messiness of the situation ....Because I mean.. who bursts open a closed changing room really?? I imagined Mum walking in at that exact moment and finding me and my nakedness for the ‘whole world to see’ or the sight of lunging girls attacking me...I wondered what would piss her off the most and knew it would be me exposed to the world so I hugged the towel closer covering “everything” as much as I could.

Shrugs.

... IK threatened me saying I would regret my actions leaving me perplexed and in shocked humiliation. I wondered why I begged our parents to attend a christian camp altogether. I was terrified of doing or saying anything. I could not wait to go home and enjoy the rest of my vacation time with my family. When asked how my camp was, I smiled my sweetest and said it was glorious we swam, sang, played and prayed ... these were the things my parents worked hard for their kids to have... things they never grow up enjoying. 

I smiled, Mum smiled and Baba smiled. 

Shrugs.

I was not unprepared for the first day of the new term. I walked in as usual and when I walked past groups of kids huddled there was a distinct hushhhhhhhhh silent stares that followed me. School was a weird place what can I say?

Shrugs.

That evening another close friend who lived close to home CM rang me while I was doing homework. She went to St Xaviers Primary and was a class ahead of me.

I did not get many calls often especially during the week and phone calls were always monitored those days. She asked me if I was ok and wanted to “talk about it” I said talk about what? After a pause she said,

“I heard while you were at camp you were had sex with four boys and a counsellor in the ocean. “People” are saying your now pregnant.”

I was stunned. I what?

You know me a while what do you think? What did you day to “People”?

Silence.

But that’s why I called you.... You see I was concerned as your friend...

Ok thanks I appreciate that.

So, are you..?

Am I what..?!

Pregnant....?

I twirled the phone wire thinking how strange meanings of people and words can be....was she concerned about me... or if I was pregnant...was she my friend...how?

No I am not pregnant.

I hung up the phone because Mum would fuss and because I started to understand what the looks and murmurs were in school. 

Shrugs.

I was crushed. 

Why? I went to bed and cried and cried. 

My sister who was in her A level year came in to our room and found me upset. She was a cool cat always calm the way older teens tend to be ‘so together with their shit’ kind of thing She asked me what was up...

All I could muster was to weep snot and say.....

“People are saying bad things about meeeee...” before the weeping took over once more.

I did not... could not go into detail.

After a little while she spoke with the calmest voice and said,

“ People say bad things about others to hurt...”

But why? Why would anyone want to hurt another so bad..?

Shrugs.

“People do stuff...people just do stuff...”

She shrugs.

I cried.

“The thing is Chiqy si you know the truth yes? You know that what they said is untrue yes?”

Yes but....

“But nothing... people say hurtful and untrue things so that they make you cry and unhappy...”

I paused mid-cry...and looked up at her...

“They what?”

“Yes they want to make you sad and hurt and crying curled up in bed like what you are doing and they know they have won. Like know you see they have won because you are crying and moaning over something you know you didnt do.”

Shrugs.

I wiped my tears and nose suddenly. I needed to stop crying. I needed to not let someone “win”... 

but man it still hurt.

Shrugs.

It hurt.

It really hurt because the ‘rumors’ spread to my former school Moi Primary... Menengai Primary where the neighbours kids attended...and Jamhuri Primary MK the older brother of my dearest classmate and new best friend RTK and walking home buddy. He was amazing, never talked behind my back and we did not get fussy with each of for having other buddies. We went to the same church and our Mums were friends. 

It hurt because the kids would come to school to see “my pregnancy” and tapping and poking at my tummy. They sometimes followed me on my walk home jeering.

In the school streets IK scowled when she saw me. I had always wondered who started the rumor considering she and I were the only ones in that so called camp from Nakuru. 

Shrugs.

Once at the taps I was drinking water and DD was walking past the corridor with the big boys in his class.. I heard him loudly say... 

“Some girls are soooo loose that they go about giving every boy and man they see in christian camps...”

The boys roared with laughter and he mockingly turn at me to say,

“ How far along are you..?”

I remained quiet.

Shrugs.

At CRE class we were learning about sex and gonads and everyone was titillated by the sight of the diagram on the teachers’ guide book... the anatomy of boys and girls. In summary, she wanted is to not just giggle but know that now we needed to understand we were changing and that the reason we needed to learn this as christians and good children is that “girls can get pregnant.” She said this over and over again... we needed to take care of ourselves so we ‘do not get pregnant.’ Boys in the class really enjoyed the lesson taking a good long moment looking at every girl to see if they understood the lesson. 

I was wondering if I would need to give up swimming. I was concerned.

Mrs Khamwega asked if we had any questions at the end of the lesson. I raised my hand to ask.

Yes, Melissa.

“Ms Khamwega, can you get pregnant if you swim in a pool or ocean with boys?”

She said yes and the class was besides themselves with hysterical laughter until the bell rang. Perhaps there was more to explain in that answer but it got lost in the shame and the way we leave questions hanging....

Shrugs.

I sat in class quiet for a long time. I went home and remained quiet. I was quiet for a long time after that. I got better at listening to the many untruths that people shared in order to hurt others and shrug. I even learnt to smile.

And over the years I learnt to cry for many many things. But I never cried when people spoke lies to hurt me. I wont let them win.

I wont let them win.

I wont... let.. them...win....

I remembered my sisters words. 

Shrugs.

I remembered this over the years and even just this week when someone dear to me rides on the waves of saying and spreading untrue and hurtful  things to get their way and to hurt me.

I still to not understand why people choose to hurt and want to hurt others.

Shrugs.

It hurts it still hurts.

But I will smile and smile and smile and smile and....until I dont.