The Sad Story of Kairu

Because I believe stories have the power to teach us useful lessons in a way that makes the lessons leave a lasting impression on our minds, I am a sucker for riveting stories, be they real or fictional. The power of stories to impact us must be the reason why Jesus used parables to drive home the lessons He wanted His followers to learn.

Now, when I was in high school at Starehe Boys' Centre, we once read in class a story about a fictional character named Kairu. The story was in a textbook titled "Integrated English Book 2". Somehow, that story captivated me to an extent that it lingered in my mind for years.

One day in 2016, more than ten years after finishing high school, I went to the Kenya National Library in Nairobi, hoping to find "Integrated English Book 2" and reread the story about Kairu. To my delight, I found the book. And devouring the story I did.

As the story goes, Kairu stood at the door of the shop, a long baton in his hand. The uniform he wore, apparently too heavy for the hot weather, made him look shorter than he actually was. And his boots did not fit him; they were too large for his feet.

However, of all the things he wore, it was the helmet that looked most comical. It was one size bigger than his head, making it almost cover his eyes. As he stood in the blazing sun, peering at the world under the rim of the helmet, one got the impression that he was a comedian playing the part of a bored guard.

But Kairu wasn't dabbling in comedy; guarding Tamara Clothing Store was his work. The job was very boring, standing at the door of the shop all day long while watching customers come and go. Often his legs felt weak. At such times, he was tempted to throw the baton in his hand and sleep right there on the floor.

Earlier in his life, he had harbored big dreams of getting a better education than his father and improving the living standards of his family. After his high school education, he had stayed on their farm and admired the beautiful ridges that surrounded it.

But he realized he didn't belong there since those ridges had sapped his father of every bit of energy, leaving him frail and shaking. So he set off for Nairobi City, his mind heavy with thoughts. He trekked for miles on hot tarmac looking for a job. At last, he was accepted for training by Paka Guards.

The training turned out to be very hard and Kairu shuddered when he thought about it. He, together with his fellow recruits, had been beaten, starved and abused. Sometimes they were required to spend a whole night without sleep. And in the mock fights against robbers, the trainers had injured some of them.

All that was however nothing compared to Kivumbi Hill which stood on the training grounds and which was covered with murram. The recruits were forced to run up and down the hill at midday. Since the murram on the hill would be extremely hot, it would make the soles of their feet swollen. What was worse was climbing the hill on their knees. It was torture beyond words.

Kairu had withstood it all with the courage that comes from living in a world where so many things are threatening to break one's spirit. He knew all along that if he lost the opportunity to work for Paka Guards, there were many people waiting at the gate to replace him. And he would never be missed.

Although it was now over, Kairu could not shake off the terror of those two months spent in the training camp. It had left him weak and scared. He had always loved arguments but in the camp, he learnt to obey commands. It was in the camp too, where he realized how needs can force one to put up with what they don't like.

Here he stood at the door of Tamara Clothing Store under the scorching sun, summoning every effort to keep him on his feet. He did not like the job. The pay was low and the job insecure, for he could be confronted by robbers any time. He often wondered what he would do if such a moment ever came; he was not certain he would not run away. End of story.

Quite a riveting story, isn't it? When I reread it in 2017, it challenged me to break a bad habit I had formed of dozing during the day. It also challenged me to work hard in my blogging career while I am still under my father's care. I have just feared falling into the same predicament as Kairu. Such is the power of stories.

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RECOMMENDATION: If you've enjoyed the above story on Kairu, you might also enjoy another one on Simon Makonde which I wrote last year. Just click on that link in blue to dive straight into the story.