Am I a Disappointment?

When I was born, twenty and some odd years ago, I did not know what was waiting for me in this world, and I am so mad at that because had I known I would have told the doc to return me. I am not cynical but things I have faced in this life are just so hard for a single man, or woman, to face. In fact, I have lived a life you could write books on. Many times I have written about my past and I see no point of repeating. I will write current affairs.

If you ever asked any African kid what they want to be in future, they will tell you that they want to be a pilot. Since Africans did not invent the 'iron bird' many of their kids wish they would just 'drive' them. Ask any African kid what they want to be: 'I wanna be a pilot', they will tell you. I, being in that clutter of African kids who think that because our forefathers did not invent the plane then we must fly it, am a disappointed man today. Twenty some odd years and still I have not found that plane for me to ride in. Four months ago, when my dream was still riding high in my head, I decided to check out a certain flying school in Nairobi. Of all the things they told me, all I remember was something to do with hours because they charge you according to the number of hours you defy gravity and a price tantamount to suicide. In other words, they told me that I needed around Ksh 1000000 to learn how you defy gravity and keep an iron bird in the air. I guess I was dazed for I remember them asking me what else they could help me with but when I arrived home I had a secret conversation with myself and I remember promising myself that that dream of ever flying should get out of my rather big head. I remember I also told myself that if God wanted man to fly he would have given him wings. It was very much absurd because as a kid, I always heard that pilots get paid so much. Now, if I had a million shillings in my pocket, I would consider myself so rich as not to want to get paid. I wonder a million times for every shilling in that million if anybody attends flying schools.

That I had done four months ago, while still doing my bachelors degree with education (B.Ed) English and Literature. I still wanted to be a pilot, you see? My B.Ed. is done and I have started doing what every graduate never wishes to do: hunting for jobs. I never went to the best universities. If you know something about fate – you can never run away from yours. Mama has high hopes in me getting a job; and not just any but a well paying one. I wish I could explain to her the saying that a university degree is not always an open sesame to a good job. As a matter of fact, in Africa, a university degree only gives you respect in your village. As for the job, you have to look for it, with or without the paper.

I hate to be so much of a disappointment but it seems I cannot help it. Today I went to my former high school, or rather to my high school and Mama expected me to come with a letter saying: 'Job available for you' or something but that is not what happened. I met the principal at the gate leaving and he looked at me as cold as he used to and then turned, without any interest in me whatsoever. I should have waved or smiled or slowed him down but remembering I was never his favourite I just did not. I proceeded to the staffroom, a place where in those days was as forbidden as that fruit of Eden, or even the Forbidden City of China. Many teachers smiled at me, those who remembered me, and I felt welcome. My English and Literature teacher looked so old that I barely recognised her, but she was still warm hearted. My physics teacher was still as crazy as he used to be, not crazy as in mad, but as in being funny. My chemistry teacher was just as calm as she was, only this time she was teaching math, as she told me. All in all I was welcome. They asked me where I was, like is the custom of all teachers to mind how their former students are doing. They were happy I had done college but when I mentioned the college, though they said nothing about it, they were a little disappointed. My college, which I am so proud of for making me who I am, or rather unleashing the dragon in me, is young and Africans are among the most conservative human beings in the world. They believe in Oxford, Harvard, U o Nairobi, Makerere. They believe that for you to really boast of having achieved a step in Maslow's hierarchy of needs, you had to do it in a certain way, the accepted way. My teachers were not really disappointed to a large extent but that is a thing I would never let Mama know: that I would miss a job because I never went to that established college. They say that experience is the best teacher and I will let it do the teaching. I am not cynical, I know I will get a way out but right now, I will continue to hunt for that job. Can you help me out?