Silas Okuku Autobiography

My name is Silas Okuku. No doubt you have already read my sister’s autobiography [Metrine]. That is the reason why my story may bore you, therefore I will keep it short. When I was born my mother was a refugee running from the wrath of her husband. I was born at my grandmother’s home. There was no reason to celebrate. My mother, my sisters and I were in trouble. Even a poor father would have been better than no father. But my father was the problem my mother explained to every one. I didn’t know what was going on. I heard my father’s name mentioned several times but nothing positive. I wished I had a father but not the one I heard strange stories about. I decided, when I grew up I would protect my mother from any body.

My mother had three children to feed and she could not just sit at home with her parents. So she went to look for work. She found a job in Nairobi and sent money to my grandparents to feed us. We were 3 hungry children. One day my mother came home and took all of us with her to Nairobi in a big public service bus. I was very happy! It was a big change, from the rural life. Here we had enough to eat and my sister joined a small school near our house. I was still too young to start schooling. When mother went to work I was left with a neighbor. The neighbour washed me, fed me and put me to sleep. My sisters came back at 3:00 pm. They took of me until 6:00 pm when mother came back. All this was told by mother recently.

Everyone loved me. Our neighbour had only one kid, a girl, and wished she had boys. She liked caring for me. In Africa a person must have boys too and not just girls only. She showed me to her friends and said “look at Christine’s boy, she is very lucky”. I was a quiet tiny child. My body was too small. I weighed less than children of my age. I was also quiet and did not cry unnecessarily. I was not a nuisance to anybody like many other toddlers. One day I was old enough to join school. I went with my sisters to school. School was alright. I liked to mess with books and paint. But my sisters had not many friends.

We moved from our friendly neighbour to another location and another school. Whenever I met new friends I shared toys with them. They also shared theirs with me. It was easy for me to play with new friends. Now I know small children make friends faster than adults. My friends came to our house to play with me. I also knew that I was sharper than all my friends. Though I was in a new school I was always on the top position. Till now I do beat my classmates in almost all the exams. I enjoy it. It’s the best part of my life. My sisters complained about the school to mother. Mother had no money.

One day in 2010 , while in a sad and depressed mood she complained loudly, I think everyone heard her. She came to our house and within ten minutes mother is quiet and confident again. The next day we did not go to school. We paid a visit to a school nearby. We met Mr. Raphael and Mr. Musumba. They talked to mother and found out everything about her and her children. Then to my surprise we were admitted in the school. It is called Hamomi. There we made many friends. Everyone is in fact a friend. The teachers here make me do more studies and promised that I will pass my final exams which are in November this year. Some American volunteers came to our school all the time. It is a good school. Next year January I will join secondary school but I will always come to Hamomi to say hello!

Thank you