The fact that our education system was on the verge collapsing cannot be gainsaid.

Like a specter that suddenly invaded our thinking, the nation was tightly gripped in academic annihilation, a quality given a wide berth, sense, and shame jumped through the window, the main focus became "papers" or certificates as they call them in Kenyan streets.

Uneducated graduate

My friend Betty* works at an insurance industry. She is a bubbly lady, married and she seems to be doing well with a good family.

We were at the same tertiary college sometime back, seven years to be precise. She works at the HR section with a masters degree.

I was surprised the other day when she asked me why do we have to celebrate Jamhuri every year.

I was dismayed, tried to sit properly and ensure that l was still normal. This came days after she had requested me to help her get the best English words so that she would not struggle during her impending speech, at a high profile chama.

Betty is not alone. She is one of the many graduates and post-graduates our colleges churn out every day.

I asked her once how she was able to balance between work, family and still manage to excel academically. The answer she gave me sums it all, "You talk well with the lecturers"


*Saleh my friend, is in his fourth year at the university, studying English and literature the other day, I asked him which novel among the African classics he loved most.

The guy dodged and talked of John Kiriamiti's 'My Life in Crime'. To keep the conversation going I asked whether he had read any text by Ngugi wa Thiong'o, to which he responded in the negative.

I stopped the conversation there; I would not discuss Mabel Dove Danqwa, Okot p'Bitek, Chinua Achebe, Doris Lessing, Wole Soyinka, Taban Lo Liyong, Christopher Okigbo or Mariama Ba...not even Grace Ogot.

I was disappointed, myself having never stepped into any university, I wondered what kind of literature they learn there.

"Teacher, I don't know"

A couple of years ago, my friend teacher told me that he supervised a national secondary examination in a school within Nairobi's Eastland's.

As usual, they handed to the candidates the answer scrips, the bell was rung as is the tradition.

One hour later, they had written nothing, asking one of them, a girl, said, "Teacher I don't know what to write.... "

My colleague inquired from the administration and was politely told that he had been too harsh, he needed to speak to the school management, "like a Kenyan"

He simply left and another supervisor was deployed. The school, as usual, scored well, when KCSE results were out!