Nelson Omondi
Nelson arrived at ACCES one day in December with his two half brothers, Edwin and Japheth. Edwin did all the talking. He had just completed high school, and spoke on behalf of the two brothers for whom he was now responsible. Nelson's mother had died. The father of all three had died. Edwin and Japheth's mother (Nelson's step-mother) was dying. No one said it. No one had to. Anyone who has lived in Africa recognizes the trail left by AIDS deaths, a trail that almost always ends in orphaned children who now face a life filled with often insurmountable barriers.
Edwin brought out an envelope filled with neatly organised papers. The boys' primary school reports were all there. Throughout the eight years, Nelson had been a superior student, and had placed third on the national exams with 420 marks out of a possible 500. Japheth's primary school performance was average, but he too had managed above average marks on the KCPE exams: 376/500. I looked at the three of them and felt the tears welling up, my throat choking my words.
I felt sympathy for Nelson and Japheth whose schooling must now end. Without further education these bright boys would find themselves doing manual labour for a subsistence living. I thought of the hundreds of boda boda drivers who were desperately trying to get enough passengers to make their 50 shillings ($1) each day. I thought of the men pushing huge wooden barrows through the streets. I thought of the ragged street boys warming their hands over charcoal fires when I arose early at dawn. They too had been boys whose chances to get education had been snatched from them.
But the prickle I felt behind my eyelids was only partly caused by my sympathy for the hardships the boys now faced. It had much more to do with my very clear understanding of the life Edwin, their older brother, would have. He was eighteen years old and responsible for a family. And, like so many Kenyans I knew, he was taking on the responsibility without a murmur. There was no resentment, no sense of injustice, no desire to break and run. If you are Kenyan you look after your family. You look after blood relations and you look after the others you inherit, the extended family members that sometimes seem to me more like clusters of incomprehensible undergrowth than family trees with discernible branches and connections.
I couldn't continue the conversation much longer, so I took the envelope of papers from Edwin and said, "I will do my best to find someone to help. ACCES does not fund high school students, but I will try to find someone who will."
That is how I began my file of primary school graduates who need and deserve help. Most are boys, and most of the boys are bright, keen students like Nelson.
Nelson Goes to School
Nelson was one of the lucky ones. He still needed help, but he had been given a chance to get his first year of high school.
I approached Nora, part of the group starting up BEEF (Boys' Educational Endowment Fund). She looked at the files of the small group of boys then in my folder and said, "This one is the best bet for funding. He has stood first and has attained excellent grades from a poor school." She was not pointing to Nelson's file. Nelson's primary school had a better record than Daniel's, and Daniel's marks were as high as Nelson's. We discussed how to help Daniel and then I was left, once again, with the conundrum of how to help Nelson.
I sat in my office the following day, the file folder open in front of me, and let the tears roll down my cheeks. Francis came in to use the computer, and asked what was wrong. I shoved the Nelson's file toward him. "I can't do anything to help him. Look at his marks. And he won't even get to high school."
Francis looked carefully at the reports, at the KCPE results, at my notes. "He could have been me," he said finally. "I was lucky, but without CHES, I would never have gone to high school." We talked a bit more, and he suggested trying the Aga Khan people. I tried but I kept running into blank walls.
"Any more suggestions?" I asked Francis the next day.
"What about trying CAAA (CHES ACCES Alumni Association)? We support a student every year. I'm not sure whether we have one right now."
This time I was able to make some headway. CAAA met each Sunday in our office, and Florence, our accountant, was its most active member. CAAA sent someone out to check on the boy's home. When she returned she reported that the boys were living in abysmal conditions, far worse than I had envisaged. Their house was only partly roofed. Their mother was in the last stages of the disease and would likely not last more than a couple of months. This family certainly needed any help they could get. CAAA agreed to fund Nelson's first year. I was to try to find alternative funding for his last three years.
Nelson began his studies at Butere Boys' High School in January, 2003.
Nelson's Education
Less than a month went by before we received a sad letter from Nelson. He hated school. Couldn't we send him to another school where the students were more concerned with their education? Florence wrote a letter and assured him that things would get better, and it would be impossible to make a change now anyway. I pointed out that Bainito was also there; that he should make friends with him. Nelson settled in, and we didn't hear anything more until the school break in April when he brought his first report.
His average was in the high seventies, he had stood third out of 101 students, he was involved in volleyball, and the comments were complimentary. In typical Kenyan fashion, the headmaster's comment was understated praise. "Good, but aim for A in all your subjects." Nelson told me that Bainito was his good friend, and it was clear that he was most impressed by Bainito's sports ability. Later Bainito praised Nelson's academic success. An interesting friendship, one in which competition played no role.
The next time I heard from Nelson was when I returned to Canada. One envelope: two letters; one from Bainito, one from Nelson ... both thanking me for the spending money I had left for them. Nelson's made me chuckle. He is at the stage where he writes with thesaurus and dictionary close by.
Dear Barbara Scott:
I am writing to thank you fully for your sponsorship. I am compelled to say your strategical attitude towards me can barely be underestimated. I was entangled in turmoil after being rendered helpless, but you managed to pick me up. Thanks for your marvellous work.
I am at school desperately fighting to achieve the best academically irrespective of my step-mother's deteriorating health. I also thank you for the pocket money you left behind to be handed over to me. May you continue with that spirit. At home my brothers and sisters have been greatly captivated by your kindness and they wish you an eternal life in God's kingdom. May God grant you his blessings so that you can continue to help the needy further. Thank you very much and may God bless you. Amen.
Yours sincerely,
Omondi Nelson
What Next?
First I had to find someone to fund Nelson's last three years at Butere Boys'. Then it would be nice to find someone to help Japheth too ... but there are others in the files who also need help, so Japheth may have to wait.
The Last Note at This Time
I found the necessary funding and Nelson finished school. Nelson graduated with an average of B+ and was invited to a university. He approached ACCES for help to attend university and received a scholarship. He is now attending university. I saw him the last time I was in Kenya and will post his photo as soon as I find it.
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