The sun was now directly overhead, turning the staffroom into a furnace. Mr. Nyasi, still clutching his outdated newspaper, marched into the room and declared an emergency “brief” meeting, ignoring the fact that half the day was gone.
He stood at the front, launching into a heated lecture aimed at those who had skipped remedial duties during the holiday. However, his words seemed to vanish into the humid air. Madam Janet and Teacher Brian were slumped in their chairs, eyes shut tight, occasionally letting out soft snores that competed with the drone of the principal’s voice.
Meanwhile, Ras and Mr. Kiptii didnโt even bother to look up, their faces illuminated by the glow of their phones as they scrolled through social media with practiced indifference.
At the center table, Mr. Njoro was struggling. As the acting deputy, he was tasked with taking the minutes, but his pen was hovering uncertainly over the paper. He was swearing under his breath, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
Every few seconds, he would lean over toward Madam Joy, whispering urgently, “Madam Joy, ‘curriculum’ inaanza na ‘c’ ama ‘k’?” and “Hii ‘remedial’ iko na ‘e’ mbili?” Joy, trying to remain professional while the room crumbled into apathy, quietly provided the spellings, feeling Njoroโs arm brush against hers more than necessary.
Mr. Nyasi suddenly clapped his hands, jolting Brian and Janet awake for a brief second. “Sasa, wacha tuskie kutoka kwa hawa wageni wetu,” he announced, gesturing toward the three student teachers.
He asked the Teaching Practice teachers to stand and introduce themselves to the disinterested crowd. When it was Joyโs turn, he watched her with a playful glint. “Madam Joy and Madam Eunice, nimesikia mnatoka upande wangu,” he said with a loud laugh. “Usijali, nitakuwa nawapea lift na hii NZE yangu jioni tukienda home. Mafuta ni bei ghali lakini kwa walimu warembo, nitatafuta.”
The joke landed with a heavy thud in the room, met only by a cynical smirk from Ras and a fresh scowl from Mr. Njoro, who clearly didn’t like the Principal encroaching on his “territory.”
Joy felt a chill that had nothing to do with the non-existent air conditioning; between Njoroโs “BOM job” promises and the Principalโs “car lift” offers, Kahutuni was proving to be a minefield.
Wrapping up the meeting, Mr. Nyasi turned to his deputy. “Njoro, make sure hawa walimu wamepata madawati na uwapee timetable mara moja,” he ordered, waving his hand dismissively as he headed toward his office to see if his secret stash of tea was still there.
“Wapee hizo madarasa nilisemaโForm 4 wangojee Madam Joy kesho asubuhi!” Njoro nodded aggressively, already eyeing the empty desk next to his, while Joy wondered how she was going to survive teaching candidates under the shadow of these men