Hey, this is fiction. Four years of high school and no sex?"

I joined Cherangani Secondary School's form one class in 1974. I was only fourteen, a little younger than most of my classmates and much smaller. Monolisation was a big deal back then. This was the process by which the incoming students were initiated into the school population by being harassed by the upperclassmen - especially those in form two who were eager to get their revenge from the previous year's tortures. They would order you to perform chores for them or perform silly acts like crawling on your hands and knees. Luckily for me, my best friend from standard seven, Sabwami, had an older brother in form four so we were protected from these rituals.

The first year went okay for me. I studied regularly and went to all my classes. Though I did not perform as well as I was expected, I figured I would do better the following year. I always did better after settling in a school. When I came back the following year, I felt completely different. I gave up on doing my best in class and began to skip one or two on occasion. This was also the year I tried alcohol. Alcohol was something I thought I would never touch in my life. It was against my religion to do so and it would hurt my mother. I would never want to do anything to hurt my mother. But I think it was peer pressure or some other reason that persuaded me to drink.

My first drink was not much of anything. I only ingested about six ounces of the homemade brew, Busa. This was a drink made under the most unsanitary conditions imaginable including the final mixture being strained through an old piece of clothing that had not been properly cleaned or even cleaned at all. Of course I got sick. I had stomach pains and the flu. I was also 'drunk' for a whole week. By that I mean I was dizzy. Every time I got out of bed, the whole room would spin and I could not walk straight. All this from six ounces of a non-potent alcoholic beverage.

I eventually had to leave school and go home so I could go see the doctor. I did not tell Mom about the drinking. I just said I had the flu. After the doctor gave me a shot, I got better. I returned to school and swore never to drink again. But I had drifted away from the goal of performing well in school. I studied less and did not take school seriously. Instead, I read dozens of James Hadley Chase paperbacks and began writing a story called, Strike From The Mountain about a young man kidnapped by robbers who had headquarters in a cave in mount Elgon. I was quite proud of it being the first story I ever wrote. I think it was influenced by my father's book, Captured By Raiders about a young woman kidnapped by a rival tribe. I virtually worshipped that book and read it about a hundred times. My father was my first hero. I had decided that I wanted to be an author like him.

He is still my hero and I am still very proud of him. I also delved into music, mainly that produced by Congolese musicians.

I became obsessed with the music, searching for new titles daily. Young bands like Orchestra's Veve, Lipua Lipua, Les Kamale, Kiam, Bella Bella, Shama Shama and Les Mangelepa were coming out with works of music that bordered on pure genius. Though the western world was oblivious to it, the sheer intricacy, large number of instruments used, layering of multiple instruments and vocals, and great production put such western superstar performers like the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Doors, and The Who to shame. Veteran African performers like Franco, Dr. Nico, Kabasselle and Tabu Ley were untouchable icons who had produced epic compositions. When it came to music, Congo in central Africa was king.

When I came back for my third year of school, I was trailing way off course. I tried Busa again and this time did not get sick. I had officially entered a dazed and confused state where I did not know what I was doing. In the beginning I only drank on weekends but then I started drinking from Fridays till Sunday. Eventually I began on Wednesdays. My weekends officially started Wednesday after class. I did not attend classes on Thursdays and Fridays.

By the time I entered my fourth and final year of secondary school, I was completely out of control. I had total disregard for authority. I walked about without tucking my shirt inside my trousers. I rarely went to class and was in fact banned from attending Biology and Chemistry because the teacher, who was also the vice principal, did not like my ways. I was rude to the fullest extent of the word. I drank Chang'aa, a volatile moonshine brew so potent that it burned my lips, tongue, throat, oesophagus and stomach every time I drank it. But I drank it probably because I was terribly shy and thought that when I was drunk I would gain some confidence. I was still shy even when I was drunk so that did not help.

I had become such a bad student that the school offered to pay a family living on the outskirts of the campus room and board so they could keep me. I was to come to classes and leave soon after. I was not to communicate with other students because I was a very bad influence on them. The principal said that I was the worst student in the school's history, past present or future. I refused to go live off campus. I enjoyed being an outlaw. I basked in my notoriety. Like I said, I was shy so this was the only way I got a lot of people to notice me. It was absolutely stupid but then again, I was dazed and confused. What did I know?

It was at about this time that I started experiencing blackouts. These were periods in my life that lasted from minutes to hours where I had no recollection at all. It was frightening. I would later on be told about things I did or what happened to me during the blackouts yet I had no recollection at all. What if something terrible happened to me during a blackout? I would not even know about it. I decided to stop drinking. I wanted to get my life back in shape.

I went to this student who was the head of the school's Pentecostal Church. He said he would pray for me and I would receive the holy spirit and speak in tongues. I had never believed that people could actually receive the holy ghost and speak in tongues but at this time, I accepted it. I did not want to lead the kind of lifestyle I was involved in anymore. So at about 7:00 p.m. one evening, this gentleman led me to a tree where we knelt beneath it and he prayed for me. I was ready to receive the Holy Ghost. We stayed there for an hour while he prayed and prayed. Nothing happened. I did not feel anything at all.

I gave up on that. I felt that God did not want me. Maybe I had strayed too far away from Him. I did not try to be 'saved' anymore. Still, I did not drink for a couple of weeks. I thought I could keep away from it for good. I behaved myself and was courteous to teachers. I went to classes that I had skipped. I did it for a while but then I slipped back to my old habits.

I resumed drinking and smoking cigarettes. Unlike other people who smoked for the love of nicotine or the need to suck on something, I smoked mainly to enhance drunkenness. I would drink a couple of beers and smoke in between. The effect was as though I had drunk five or six beers. I did not smoke the way people normally do. It took me less than a minute to smoke a cigarette. I would inhale and hold a third of the cigarette, exhale, inhale another third, exhale and inhale the rest of it. The effect would rob my lungs of oxygen thus cutting the precious gas from reaching my brain. That induced dizziness which when mixed with alcohol made me very drank. A stupid and dangerous act but I was dazed and confused so what did I know.

I remember some 'friends' of mine and I going to our neighbour's maize field with a Primus pressure cooker, a pot and some water. We walked deep into the middle of the vast field, made a small clearing and cooked pots upon pots of maize which we ate and carried the rest back to our dormitories. This was clearly theft and we would have been severely punished had we been caught but we did not care. We thought we were invincible. We could do anything we desired.

We did something terrible that I cannot even recall but we were suspended for a week because we refused to be caned. We were in form four. We deemed ourselves too old to be caned. So we were suspended instead. At first we wanted to hide about and come to the dorm for sleep. After a couple of days, we decided we had to go home. My mother was shocked when I told her I had been suspended. I had always been a perfect student who was always at the top of my class. I was shy and obedient. She could not believe that I could do anything to be suspended.

When I returned to school, the vice principal still wanted to cane me even though he had said that the suspension took place of the caning. I refused to be caned. He told me I would be suspended for two more weeks if I did not take the caning. I took the caning. There was no way I was going back home. I guess he won that round. But I got extremely rude towards him and all other school authority after that. He had gone against his word and I was going to show him that he had absolutely no control over me anymore. I did not attend any classes anymore. All I waited for were the final exams so I could leave the place for good. I do not know why I thought I would pass the exams without studying but I guess I believed I could anything.

I was broke so in order to get money for alcohol, I sold my new school uniforms to a shopkeeper about a mile from school. I remember going there one evening and waiting for hours before he could buy the clothes. By then it was dark and I had to walk through some woods and cross a river. I was walking through the woods thinking someone could kill me and throw my body in the river or bury it in the woods. And no one would find out about it.

Finally the exams were here. I left soon after my last one. I know the school administration was ecstatic over my leaving and I don't blame it.

I had never drunk away from school because I did not want my mother to know I was drinking. But after I left school I got together with some friends and went to the market to drink. I had some old school uniforms left over so we all dressed in them and people started talking about us being a gang.

Somehow my mother found out that I was drinking. Somebody must have seen me at the market and told her. She was very upset. She felt sick for days. I felt pretty guilty about that but I did not stop. Then on December 31st 1977, I was on my way to the market to drink when something came over me. I don't know what it was but it was spiritual and I felt strongly that I should not be drinking and smoking anymore. I think that the Holy Ghost finally found its way into me. I felt that God had told me to stop. That was it. I stopped drinking and smoking on that day.

I never felt that I should drink or smoke anymore. There were no withdrawal symptoms or any other problems. I did not have the desire at all. Instead I felt as though a heavy load had been lifted off my shoulders. I did not feel guilty anymore. Still I knew I not only had wasted time by not studying and being a functional human being, I also destroyed some of my brain cells when I drank hard liquor while an underweight sixteen year-old. Teenagers should not drink hard liquor and smoke cigarettes.

The exam results came back and I got second division. I don't know how I did so well without studying. I guess I had retained a few gray cells to help me. That period I spent at the school killed my desire to succeed. I remember when I was nine years old and in standard three, I went to Kitale Primary school. The first term I came in seventh. The second term I was second only to be beaten by an Indian girl who was a better mathematician than I. All the time I was home, I only thought about how I was going to leave that girl in the dust. I was angry with myself for not being number one. Back at school, I studied like nobody's business. Every time I saw that girl I only thought of how much better I was going to do. Well, at the end of the year I came in first. Unfortunately the girl did not come in a distant second. She came in fifth. Now I was upset with her for performing so poorly when I had worked so hard!

Anyway, I lost that drive forever. I no longer have the desire to succeed, to perform well, to be number one. I miss that drive. I miss the desire to compete. I hope someday I can recapture it because we all need a drive to keep us going. Without a drive you can stick in a rut never to venture out, never to grow wings and fly into the unknown. Life is full of adventure. We should not spend it stuck in a boring profession. We should experiment, explore, and expand our minds.

In 1978, I went to America to study. This was my chance to start clean and work my way up once more. I did it for about a year before I lost track again. I never turned back to alcohol and cigarettes or even drugs but I still did not have that drive. I was content with doing nothing, being nothing, sitting around and vegetating. In America, they say, a mind is a terrible thing to waste. Maybe I can stop wasting mine and do something creative with it. In the process maybe I can get that drive back. I need to compete even if it is against myself. Especially against myself. I need to compete against that nine year-old that was a brilliant, competitive me. I envy that nine-year old who had no worries, no responsibilities - just a singular desire to be the best. I need to beat him. Now I know someday I will. I just know I will.