Bear with me, if you will, as I recount on yet another wonderful experience I had during my high school years at Starehe Boys' Centre. I am just developing a hobby of reflecting on my past days, both the heart-warming as well as the buttock-clenching ones, with the aim of either gleaning valuable lessons or enjoying my life again. And that hobby, which I am finding more refreshing than watching a wacky movie, is inspiring me to live an honourable life while still a youth so that I can get to enjoy it again when I grow old through beautiful memories.

I joined the Starehe Boys' Survival Club in my first term in Form 1 back in 2002 after magically passing an interview conducted by commandos - as the club leaders were called. And with time, I came to enjoy the camps and hikes we had in the club. Well, I didn't enjoy the hikes because they involved a lot of trekking through hilly countryside. But the camps, during which some commandos wore stetson hats that made them look like American cowboys, were quite another thing; I enjoyed them especially the singing we did around night camp-fires. We sang funny ditties while making fun of commandos.

Among the many jokes we cracked during those camp-fires, the one I found funniest was this one directed at a commando by a fellow Survivor Club member: "You see the grandmother of Commando 'X' - she grew thin and thinner and thinner and thinner and thinner until she disappeared!"

So much did I come to enjoy being part of Survival Club that at one time, I wanted to be a commando in the club. I however gave up on the ambition when I realized I couldn't withstand joining the Starehe Boys' Fire-fighting Squad (see photo above) which Survival Club commandos were expected to join. But with all the confusion and timidity that Starehians saw in me, I doubt whether I would have been selected a commando anyway.

I therefore left the club in Form 2 but after having gleaned the following leadership lessons which I hope to apply in my future family of which I will be the head, God willing:

• Rise early
• Be physically fit
• Ensure everybody in the family has a meal before sitting down to eat
• Create some time for family fun in which everyone is free to tease each other
• Keep disagreements with wife and bedroom affairs out of notice by children

And how did I glean those valuable lessons? Mostly when we went for Survival Club camps and hikes during which I would observe, among other things, commandos projecting a spirit of unity and having us wake up early in the morning for physical exercises.

Later on in 2012, I became interested in memorizing the values and mission statements of Survival Club as they may have been outlined by the club founder in 1989. So I visited Starehe Boys' only to find that the club had been displaced from the cottage we used as the Survival clubroom in our days to a small room partitioned in an old classroom.

With that kind of change, I sensed the club had lost its glitz and glamour. I informed Ken Ogutu, one of the commandos in '02, about the change but he didn't seem surprised. He just told me they used to refer to the cottage we used as Survival clubroom as the Bush Embassy. I found that Ogutu's remark amusing because it implies that if you wanted to go to the bush, you first had to get a visa from the Survival clubroom.

And by the way Ken Ogutu, who I have approached to be my legal advisor, went on to study law at the university and was accepted at the renowned Harvard Law School for a post-graduate course. My friend, that's the end of my story, and I have had a nice time telling it. Thanks for bearing with me.

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I first reported at Starehe Boys' Centre as a student on a Thursday afternoon on 17th January of 2002. Back then, I didn't realize how fortunate I had been to be admitted to the school whose senior students treated new students as brothers. It's only in recent years when I have heard of how some of my friends were bullied in their first days in high school by their seniors that I have thanked God for taking me to Starehe which had a buddy system of pairing every new student with a second-former who would orient him to the ways of the school.

My second-former was a friendly lad named Leon Osumba from the Luo community of Kenya. Leon was a bit hearing impaired but compensated for that disability by wearing hearing aids. He went out of his way to introduce me to other schoolmates in Chaka House that I was part of. His amiable demeanour explains why I have a visceral hatred for any sort of discrimination on the grounds of age, race, faith, tribe, gender, disability or sexual orientation. And it also explains why I wouldn't mind marrying from the Luo community, provided the lady is a person of fashion and sense.

The captain of Chaka House back in 2002 was Michael Mwangale who received the first-formers of that year amicably, including me. He used to hold regular meetings with us during the first half of Term 1 in which he would mentor us on a myriad of issues including the spread of HIV/AIDS. One night, he told us that it is unwise to ruin our lives with two minutes of sexual ecstasy. And on the night before we broke for mid-term holidays in that term, he organized a small bash for us. We feasted on biscuits and drank plenty of tea during that bash. Oh, how I miss those good old days!

I shall always remember Mwangale for a funny comment he uttered during one roll-call. It was a day before we broke for a half-term holiday, an exciting moment especially for us first-formers. After Mwangale was through with whatever important stuff he was telling us during that roll-call, he closed his remarks by saying, "And guys, do have a nice half-term. Go say 'hi' to your sisters!" I just loved Michael Mwangale.

But perhaps the Starehian who gave me the best reception in the school was Jesse Nyoro who was six years my senior and whose photo I have displayed above. When Nyoro heard that I could play the piano, he introduced me to Music teachers of the school. And he made some very congenial compliments about me to my fellow first-formers. Later on, he encouraged me to accompany hymns on the piano during assembly by giving me a music score of hymn no. 59 in Starehe Boys' hymnal: that wonderful old hymn in limerick form whose first verse goes as follows:

Turn back, O man, forswear thy foolish ways;
Old now is Earth, and none may count her days,
Yet thou, her child, whose head is crowned with flame,
Still wilt not hear thine inner God proclaim:
Turn back, O man, forswear thy foolish ways.

Nyoro treated me like a brother despite the fact that I was a confused new student while he was a famous senior in Starehe pursuing a technical course in the institute division of the school. He still remains my friend who has counselled me on several occasions in recent years.

The other day, for instance, he called me on phone to inquire how I was faring in life. I told him that I am still working hard and praying for breakthroughs, to which he replied, "What breakthroughs are you praying for Thuita? Don't you realize that your breakthroughs happened a long time ago? Do you know how many people wish they could own a website like you do and write as you do? Stop this business of saying you are praying for breakthroughs."

He proceeded to tell me of two disciples who walked with Jesus without realizing they were with Him until He gave them bread. The point he was trying to make in that reference to the two disciples is that God has already been with me and I only need to open my eyes wider to sense His presence. (For whatever reasons, I cannot remember reading about that story of two disciples walking with Jesus without realizing it in spite of having studied the whole Bible from preface to index.)

I however tried to clarify to Nyoro that by praying for breakthroughs, I meant earning money. And I wish I had told him like by winning a lucrative advertising contract for this blog but he cut me short when I mentioned the word 'money' and said, "Thuita, money only accounts for 10% of happiness. So long as you have food to eat, clothes to wear and good health - those alone are big breakthroughs."

After reflecting on that Nyoro's advice, I am thinking that maybe I should begin counting my blessings instead of focusing on what I don't have. Or maybe I need to forswear my foolish ways and proclaim my inner God by being grateful for the gifts of everyday life as that wonderful old hymn I have mentioned exhorts in its first verse. Actually, that's what I will strive to be doing. So help me God.

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