A Dusty Field and a Bag of Fries Part 2: An Unexpected Kindness

In the first part of this blog post, I gave a background on my early education in childhood. If you haven’t read it yet, I encourage you to go back and take a look at Part 1, as it provides context to the story that I will tell here. This is the story of a dusty field and a bag of french fries. I promise that it will all make sense in the end.

The Kenyan primary education system in the 2000s defined learning as attaining high grades across all school subjects. We had two major tests every semester, the midterms and final exams. The third term final exam was the most important, as it determined whether one would proceed to the next grade or (dreadfully) repeat the school year. Since exams and report cards were the most important evidence of progress through school, the administration chose to enforce their school fee payment policies around these two aspects.



The List of Shame
A week before both exams, an appointed teacher would go around all classes with a list of all pupils whose parents had not completed paying school fees. Every balance, no matter how small, would warrant a pupil to be on this list. Typically, this teacher would come in during the morning session to read out loud the names on what I came to think of as the “list of shame.” Dead silence would meet them, and with bated breath, pupils would wait to hear if they would be mentioned. Unlike most, I was rarely anxious about being on this list as I had resigned myself to the fact that I would always feature. My family situation was dire, my parents more often than not did not pay our fees in full.

Once your name was mentioned on this list, you were sent out of the class and asked to sit in the school field all day. It served as our playground but had no equipment save for hockey and soccer posts. This field was very muddy in the rainy season, and very dusty in the dry season. Rather than prepare for the forthcoming exams with our peers, we sat idle or played or read on our own. This exclusionary policy was not only abusive but also divisive, as there were clear lines between the affluent pupils and those from struggling families. Some sneered at us as we were sent out, and others ignored us during class upon our return from the field.



The Kind Gesture
One day when I was in Class 7, during the third term final exam period, I was sent out as usual due to fees balances. I didn’t think much of the day, except hoping my mother would come to speak with the school administrators to negotiate for my brother and me to sit the exams. I did not want to miss this exam as I wished to proceed to my final year of primary school with the rest of my class. It was around the start of the dry season, therefore the school field was extremely dusty, as most of the grass had yellowed away in the scorching sun. I sat by myself under the shade of a tall tree, trying to read a book. Then, from a distance, I saw a girl headed towards me, carrying something in her hands. Little clouds of dust formed at her feet as she moved towards me. As she drew closer and closer, I recognized her as one of my classmates, Audrey* (not her real name). I was perplexed.

“Hello there,” she beamed, as she sank into the remaining patch of grass by my side.

“Uuuh, hello?” I responded, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“I brought you a snack from the canteen, I thought you might be hungry” Audrey replied.

She handed me a warm bag of fries with mouth-watering tomato chilli sauce. I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Nobody had ever been this kind to me in my time at the school. I felt embarrassed and confused at the same time. As I received the snack from Audrey, I thanked her profusely, grateful for the gesture. To my surprise, instead of her returning to class, she continued to sit beside me. Audrey chatted me up about things pre-teens talk about: her little brother’s shenanigans, what we recently watched on TV, and what we imagined high school to be like. As we spoke, it dawned on me that Audrey was not only there to gift me a snack, but also to cheer me up. While I sat alone in the field for no fault of my own, she chose to join me and keep me company, her own exam preparations aside. She neither viewed me nor those who were in the dusty field as outcasts. From that moment on, Audrey and I drew closer and developed a friendship.



Audrey’s kindness on that day when I least expected it opened me up to the bright side of humanity. Whilst most classmates belittled and bullied the economically disadvantaged, Audrey was generous. She and I went separate ways after primary school, as is often the case in life, but we managed to meet up at a café a few years ago after a re-established connection. Typical of us, we brought gifts for each other and ironically picked the same item, much to our amusement. I believe that Audrey is an example of how one person’s positive action can light a bright candle of hope in another’s heart in a moment of despair. How we treat the people around us lives with them forever.