A letter to my Hooyo

By: Abdullahi Alas

I know mum, you shall not be able to read this phraseology, but in your inner Mind; you will read and remember our days in subterranean discussions about my studies.

Mother, I would like to thank you for carrying me in you womb for nine months, for enduring the morning sickness, the vomiting and my rumbling from your inside, and the love and breastfeeding afterwards.

Hoyoo, as your eldest son, I am proud of you. Your zeal, courage and charisma has always enable me have hope even when we had the least. A false hope is better than being hopeless. The focus you forged in me, the inspirational stories about how every Man becomes what he intends to, as long as he remained focused on the dream. That was amazing mum!

Hoyoo, my days in primary when you sent me to fetch firewood, become a milk vendor-to and fro (18 miles) between Ashabito and Bambo, the five and three litres jericans-8 litres per day for almost 3 years in late 90s. You only aspired for me to be a great man Mum. Am grateful mum. Being a primary kid in the 90s was not an easy thing, especially in Ashabito town.

Ashabito being typical small town in NEP, synonymous with lack of electricity, lack of proper schooling and under staffed in those days, most of us managed to make it, though it was the tough.

I remember vividly, when we relocated to Khalicha, our dream didn’t die. We picked it up from where we left in making sure nothing stops prosperity to come our way.

I remember trekking between Khalicha and Rhamu town to sell three glass of milk each at 25 Ksh. Accompanying me to the hills for I would be scared by the Bamboos and lions in the shadows and thick bush.

After my first KCPE in the mid-90s, I had to stay home for four (4) year while my classmates were in secondary school. That didn’t deter me from achieving my goals. Hoyoo, you and I know very well, how torturous is was to watch your son stay home while his age mates were crushing books in the corridors of high school.

During that waiting period of 4 years to go back to school, I promised myself to keep dreaming, stay focused. I later became an adult teacher, then taught Khalicha primary, and of course, I did manual work like a labourer in the construction sector.

My uncle, late Haji Jelle built the first mosque in Khalicha; I was among the first labourers, taking home sh 180 per day for people like me who worked overtime.

Then bang, the big day, I did my KCPE 1999, passed and got admitted to Mandera secondary school. At Mandera secondary school, I realise that I wasn’t the only one with the same story. We were many. After I sat for my KSCE, my result was cancelled. I got a whooping Y. That day, I was teaching Poetry at Mandera Integrated Secondary school. When the news broke, 49 of us got Y! Yes, a clean Y.
Pent ups, butterfly in the stomach brewed inside me, I felt so helpless, confused and weak. But, my inner voice told me to Stop. Were you not the guy who stayed out of school for 4 years? Were you not the primary kid the other day? And what are you now? I went out of the class. I took wudhu and prayed to Allah for not what I missed but what I have.

I was teaching English and literature at Mandera Integrated, helping Moi Girls in Poetry, earning a whopping sh 10,000 in those days.
I am also proud that those I taught in high school are successful individuals.

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