OTERO THE KARATE KING

OTERO THE KARATE KING

Fam, I was bullied. In high school. It was soooo traumatizing.

It was two weeks after reporting. By a really cool form 3 guy. His name was Lawrence Owino. Or Lawi.

Alikuwa mjinga sana.

So, people all over knew bullying took place. The whole school, and since the school was right in the middle of the village, the villagers knew. Some was harmless while others were scary. And word spread round the village quickly. So the school became tough on bullies. It toned down a bit, but it was there. It was also non-violent for most of it.

The neighboring home in our Shags, Malanga, had the King of Karakwondo, Karate and Taekwondo combined, South of the Nile. They called him Wooza.

By the way, he wasn’t playing at all. He used to kick people so hard they would crawl about two kilometers just to get home. Cops would ask him to accompany them to the police station, if he was not busy. If he was, he could go when he was free. Ati that is how he was being arrested. If anyone owed you money, they just pay you in case you went to him. No one played with his siblings. The sub chief in our Shags once looked at him badly, he never left home for a week. He was hoping he forgets.

He didn’t. He gave him a flying kick while the government representative was riding his bike back home. He fell so deep into the plantations, people waited for almost half an hour to see him come out.

He was so good at kicking people, he ran his own martial arts school. Complete with a black belt for those with distinction in throwing kicks and making karate action movie sound effects. The louder you made those sounds, the better you were at whatever he was teaching you.

Another time a kange charged him KES. 250.00 instead of KES. 200.00 after he had been shouting his voice hoarse ati ‘Two Hundred Bob Malanga, Two Hundred Bob Malanga’ from Kisumu to Malanga. He didn’t even complain. He just told the guy, ‘You will see for yourself.’ He told him that, not in Swahili or English. But in Jang’o.

When someone warns you in their mother tongue, fam, just know they are serious.

The bus comes down from Kisumu to Luanda, he buys bananas and shares with the kange. And the kange took them. Me I can’t. Hajui vile anataka kupigwa. He is just eating them and praising the guy, laughing laughing.

When they got to the Malanga water tank, he just took him with his pinky finger by the neck and shukad with the guy. Manze he kicked the kange so hard he disappeared. I am not even lying. The dere comes out looking for the kange, he is chapwad a good one mpaka he falls huko under the bus. So now he has to give the guy back his 50 Bob, and an extra 450 just to calm him. He leaves them there.

They found the kange after two hours of searching, unconscious and just coming to, in a banana plantation. He wasn’t hearing well from his right ear. It is the one that had been kicked.

That’s the guy who is assigned to take me to school just to show guys I came to learn and I mean business. We go with my mum as well.

We go in, I go to the headmaster’s office, I am checked in, and some guy is called to take me to the dormitory. Karate kid and my mum starts to leave. I am so happy, my life long dream of being in Form One is coming to pass. I am excited.

Man, we take the first corner and I see my metal box flying and getting lost in some maize plantation. I am like what is going on here? Kidogo some chap has slapped me. I am confused. I can’t tell who it is that slapped me. Because all those foolish malnourished nincompoops all looked the same. But I know who had my box.

Some form one guys come and help me find my box and show me how to settle in. They are telling me, ‘It’s ok. You will be fine. We are here.’

When I finally open the box, Chapo, Sugar, Cocoa, Brut and the Blueband is missing. I am like, ‘Noooooo. Anything, not the Chapo.’

After I have relaxed, they tell me there is a guy called Lawi, who had been suspended for two weeks for bullying form ones. And when he was leaving he had told them he is not yet done.

I wept.

For two weeks I wait for the guy, counting the hours. I begged to be transferred. I even wanted to quit school or just repeat standard 8.

And then he comes. I was very tiny by the way, which didn’t help. Bigger kids don’t get as much bullying. It was such a bad day.

First, he told me to go and call the deputy head teacher from his house, and tell him that he wants chips and chicken. From Kenchic.

Then he told me to go and tell the cook that I was full and will not be eating, and that he will be eating my food for the whole term.

Finally he made me remove all my clothes, save for the thangos, took out a calculator and a log book, and proceeded calculated the number of things he could see in my body, while fellow form ones watched. He came up with the number 42.

And hence my nickname is school became, A Boy 42. Or A Boy. Or just 42!

I had a number. SMH!

But he ended up being a really good friend later. Lawi Ja Regea.

By the way I stakid the guy who threw my box. He was chapwad a good one by that our neighbor. He was told to come and ask for my forgiveness.

I told him, ‘Go. And sin no more.’

Paushinski

Creative Writer | Photographer | Filmmaker

This Post Has 5 Comments

  1. LOL….Go and sin no more. I was never bullied, though i joined our high school at the height of bullying. I joined the football school team immediately and I had the protection of the games’ captain, who happened to live one block away from our house in Nairobi.

    1. YOU LUCKY CHAP!

  2. Note to self, do not, I repeat, read posts while eating lunch in a posh shared office… because food shall come forth from mouth to spread across table. Either that or you shall die chocking!

  3. Dude please make your stories into. Podcasts.. They are awesome

    1. Aki than you so much Roy.

      Appreciated.

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