A FEMALE DEFEAT.

By Brian Nzomo.

What does it mean to be defeated by a girl or a woman when it comes to academics? All my life, such a defeat was frowned upon and chastised with much vigour. From my stern father to that caring teacher at school. Such a defeat even in one single exam was a source for endless lecturing.
I was not bright. Never have I been though many people vest me with this gift. I just work an extra mile than others to understand something better. Unlike others who may easily grasp academic content from the first lesson in class, I had to sit down and analyse the content deeply to understand. This, since primary school has been the mantle of my good performance. Since standard one, I always got the first position in class. There was hardly any competition until I got to standard four, when a certain new comer; a girl called Cynthia came to our class.
She was a very cheeky girl who from afar, one may dismiss as a joker. And I underestimated her. When the mid-term exams came, she clinched position one and I clinched the second. I was shocked. The class was shocked. My era of tyranny had crumbled before my very own eyes.
But what hit me most was the castigation I got from the class teacher at a private conversation in her office. She pushed me to work harder so that I wouldn’t be beaten next time, even more serious- beaten by a girl.
Home was hell. Neither of my parents could believe a girl had beaten me. I was daunted. I burnt the midnight oil to ensure I would crush her next time. I became more determined to work extra hard. All of it. To beat that one girl and reclaim my superior position.
The next exam came. Cynthia beat me again. And again. And again. To make matters worse, I grew even more bitter and lacked complete focus. The final year exams, Cynthia beat me. Another girl Doreen. And a boy William. All beat me. This time, I took home a miserable number four.
The Christmas festivities that year did little to comfort me. The thought of an additional two girls defeating me in an exam wrenched my heart even more. I spent my days in the village staring at the stream and wondering what was wrong with me. Why can’t I beat them? Or maybe Cynthia(who was a Kamba) used spells and witchcraft? No. It can’t be. I dismissed that thought. I was a Kamba too and the idea of witchcraft was too unlikely if not ridiculous. I made a pledge to myself. No girl would ever beat me in an exam in that class for the rest of my primary education. And I set the ball rolling.
True to my word. None ever did. Standard five, six, seven, eight… I drowned them all. I had a crush on Cynthia but being too proud to even befriend her, I drew satisfaction from the thought that the girl I felt attracted to, was academically inferior. And she knew that. That was enough. After primary school, I never met Cynthia.

***** ****** ******

In high school, academic competition was more aligned to ourselves as boys and never stoked much distress in me. I was still a ‘chopi‘ but it didn’t make much difference to me. The only nostalgic experience about gender academic competition here was that time in form four.
As candidates that year, we had done the county mock examinations. The results came out and we were position three. Another boys school was leading, and a girls school followed. But let me tell you guy my guy! That afternoon from two pm to six pm(a time we always are supper), all of us candidates were assembled at the main hall. This was a serious academic meeting and all the teachers absconded their classes to attend this talk to the form fours.
The words said that day by every teacher were painfully scathing. Those words ripped apart our existence. Although they tried to hide the main core of their lectures, one could clearly decipher through the tones of their voice and choice of words, that what prompted their disappointment was a defeat by the girls school.
“What kind of men are we churning out? Men who have fallen under the skirts of women? How can these small girls beat you? And call yourself men?” Said one teacher. This reminded me of the past. Those days when I gave all my efforts at sacrifice’s altar to maintain academic superiority over a girl.
I was not alone. Many hearts were shred by these words. So emasculating they were, that in that evening, none of us talked during prep time. Possibly, each one of us was thinking of the magnitude of their life. How unworthy their lives were after losing to ‘small girls’?
Every lesson the following day was dominated by lecture over our falling at the feet of women. Male and female teachers. All pounded us further by battering words. The last lesson which was biology; the Biology teacher came in and saw faces laced with shame and tried to cheer us up,
“Don’t be so stressed. At least you guys showed them dust in sciences. Humanities are a woman’s strengths anyway, and sciences are what matter,” he said smiling. We smiled slightly.

***** ******* *****

That same year, a certain girl from our hood(whom I had a crush on) challenged me to beat her at KCSE. She was also a candidate a prestigious girls national school in Kiambu. A top performing school for that matter. I was reluctant but I took on the bet. It was around April and I felt quite unprepared owing to my poor performance in sciences and mathematics. On the other hand, she was a bright girl who scooped A’s from her school without much difficulty.
She promised that if I did outperform her, she would become my girlfriend and I would have unlimited access to her coochie. I was a horny boy at the time and stupid to say the least. So I agreed. Not that I believed she would even do that, but I had to take it anyway. Because she was a girl. And my mantra in academics all through my life was to ensure that any girl I knew or challenged me academically, deserved to be defeated.
I struggled again at school to salvage my scores in sciences for I was weak therein. But nothing! Sciences and mathematics were proving irredeemable. Then came July when disaster struck.
Amid a school roused in bitter religious schism at the time, a purge was made on possible devil worshippers in school. I was a known atheist together with a number of others. There were traditionalist believers too. When the purge came, no one could believe that in a Kenyan school setting, someone could not believe in Jehovah or Allah. So these had to be the devil agents. And they came for us. One by one we were expelled. I lost that month, September and October. I came back to do my KCSE. And I did not fare well as expected.
As for this girl, she showed me dust ile mbaya. Not that I cared(or maybe). But who did she think she is? Did she think she was special? Sharrap you dimwit! I can hear you bluff out that mhenga cliche, Sungura alipozikosa zabibu…
Well after all, we all made it to the university. She did engineering. I took law but due to situations not explainable here, I switched to journalism. The greatest regret I’ll live to bear in my heart. Five years down the line…
She is unemployed as I am. She, an engineer, owns a small tailoring business. I, a journalist, owns a piracy arena called a movie shop.
Was our education of any worth? I don’t know. Maybe it was. Maybe not. Or maybe I’m too young to know. But what was really my purpose of going to school in this country? What is the purpose of school for every learner in this country? Was my education of any worth if it was grounded on competition and desire to maintain my ego?
Another KCSE results announcement is live on TV. The minister says, “Once again, girls have beaten the boys in the exams.” A female customer shrieks in euphoria and brags about girls being clever than boys. On the blue bird app Twitter, a concerned tweep is raising concern over the performance of the boychild. The boychild has been forgotten. The exams have dictated!

Brian Nzomo is a Communications and media student at the Kenyatta university. He is also a writer who specializes in short stories and poetry both in Swahili, English and sometimes French. You can email him: bryonzoms505@gmail.com.