Tribulations of Mark:- Part 7

Continued from Part 6

Clad in a navy blue suit, a striped shirt, a matching tie, and sharp-pointed shoes, Mark boarded a matatu (the mode of transport used in Kenya) heading to town.

The matatu was playing loud offensive music and since no one was complaining, Mark was contented with the situation as it was.

The stickers on the sides were equally offensive. Like this one written, “If you think the music is too loud then you are too old” and another one in Swahili, "kama uko na haraka, shuka ukimbie,".

Literally meaning that if you were in a hurry, you alight and run. Some of the art graffiti were nice, others horrendous.

Mark was seated at the back next to a fellow who was already fast asleep. And in fact, he was snoring like he was in the comfort of his bed.

The matatu bounced up and down, braked and accelerated, stopped, picking or dropping passengers and then started its journey again.

Inside, the passengers were silent, gloomy faces as they headed to their place of work.

Soon the matatu arrived at the CBD and Mark alighted. As usual, there were thousands of people in Nairobi, the capital city of Kenya.

They were moving hither and thither, minding their own businesses. He mingled with them, heading to his place of work. His high school students needed him for brain nourishment.

After ten minutes of walking briskly, he arrived at his place of work.

There was too much noise coming from inside the school compound.

Students were walking up and down the school compound chattering like overexcited monkeys.

He checked his watch; it was quarter past eight in the morning. The place was supposed to be orderly at this time of the day.

He headed straight for the staffroom and as he greeted his colleagues, it is when he learned that the strike that had been called by the teachers union had taken root.

The strike had been called to pressure or force the government to recruit an additional 28,000 teachers.

The country had a national shortfall of about 76,000 teachers. Hence the few who were employed felt the heavy burden placed squarely on their shoulders.

Teaching had thus become a tasking job and the education standards in most parts of Kenya had fallen below the expected levels.

As they sat in the office chatting, arguing whether their demands would be met by a rogue government, Marks colleague received a status update on his Facebook.

There was going to be a demonstration in the CBD heading towards parliament. It was as if that was the message everyone was waiting to hear.

They all rose at once and started preparing to join their other colleagues in demanding their rights.

What was angering the teachers more apart from being overburdened and paid peanuts, was the fact that the MPs had refused to pay taxes like ordinary Kenyans.

And secondly, it was being rumoured that they had taken funds from the educational docket to the military docket.

They arrived at the CBD and found another huge group waving placards and moving in a procession along Moi Avenue.

The group was also carrying an effigy of Finance Minister Uhuru Kenyatta who had ruled out the recruitment of 28,000 teachers in the financial year saying that the government had no money.

The procession was of angry workers who had been denied their rights, who had been underpaid for a long time and who had been overworked in the name of nation-building.

The protesters chanting songs, waved placards and twigs headed to parliament buildings in solidarity, their message loud and clear.

Mark found himself among the front line leading the group of protesters.

There was no fear of the hundreds of police officers who had been deployed to maintain peace and tranquillity.

He had a big placard and he could not even remember where he had gotten it from. The teachers on both of his sides were blowing vuvuzelas.

The sound of the hundreds of vuvuzelas, when blown continuously, was like the roar of the tyrannosaur and for sure being a part and parcel of this demonstration helped Mark relieve most of the stress he had.

Here is part eight!