Foxy Kimani

Earlier in first form we had had a first former called Jeneby who couldn’t survive the bullying and left after only a few weeks. In second form he was replaced by a guy called Kimani. We nicknamed him foxy. A tall slim guy who wore specs.

Epileptic fits are quite something to behold especially if you have never come across them before. Foxy started having them quite regularly shortly after he arrived only that they appeared to be something more than just the ordinary. This may have been proved after Judas Memba Muriuki (who was still a Catholic then before he became a practicing Rastafarian in later years) suggested that we place a Bible under his pillow. It actually worked. He would never get the fits when the Bible was there and when he had one they would subside instantly the moment the Bible was produced. It is very hard to explain, I am simply stating the facts here. I remember that one day Foxy himself told us that the problem started after he fell off the back of a moving pick up and hit his head against something.

What made the situation even more explosive was the fact that a number of people thought that the poor guy was simply faking it, including the bullies. One episode involving the Mitchell house master Mr Ralfs comes to mind. He angrily stormed into the dorm one morning after Foxy had missed breakfast and demanded to know what he thought he was up to. I don’t quite remember how it all ended but I doubt whether he really believed that the guy had a problem that was serious enough to warrant his skipping breakfast.

When he was okay Foxy was a jovial guy who was a lot of fun to be around. One of those guys who was everybody’s friend, even the bullies. I wonder where he is now and what happened to him over the years.

1979 and second form was also the year that two people who became my closest friends arrived. Alfred Odindo came in fifth form and Maina Kinguru joined first form. Although he was several years ahead of me, we shared many things in common with Odindo. I also marveled at the way his sharp witty mind dissected and analyzed situations. I recently came across him right here in Facebook after all these decades and from the exchanges we have had he has not changed one bit and it is so hard to imagine as that grey haired university professor he was quick to describe himself as. Golly where did the years go?

Although many people saw Maina Kinguru only as a rabble his intellect was extra-ordinary. I have never met anybody who was so much into Greek Mythology. The 3 of us were of course crazy about theatre. Odindo wrote a splendid house play and I was one of the first people to read the script and even suggested a title that he liked and ended up using. “Daddy won’t be coming home for dinner” was the title. It was the moving tale of a child who is outraged when nobody appears to take action against the known killer of his dad and opts to do something drastic to avenge the death. It did not sweep any awards in the annual house plays like Angawa’s play had done the previous year for Kirk but in the schools festival the following year we missed the finals by a whisker. Kingori of Lugard was exceptional playing the kid. And so was Mirikau of Speke as the murderer. Mirikau was a very gifted actor because he somehow managed to inject a little humour into the character and amazingly made a very evil man more than a little lovable.

I surprised even myself because although I was only a second former I was already beginning to enjoy myself at Lenana even as I got to learn so much from others in activities like drama—more so because I already knew that I wanted to become a writer after school.

Gerald Walker adds; Foxy died in a road accident heading to Mombasa (not Limuru), in 1984, I know because we were supposed to go together but I travelled to the UK for a short holiday; I found out the day I got back that he had been involved in a car accident – someone from his home had left a message for me - he was at Aga Khan, went immediately to the hospital, and straight to the ward since I had the details, but didn’t see him. The duty nurse asked me who I was looking, when I gave her the name, she said to me ‘he has left’ and she looked away, I was puzzled for a moment because the message given to me was very clear - unless then injuries sustained were not that serious then, so perhaps he’d been discharged….she hesitated for a few moments then clarified that he had just died about an hour before I arrived. Simon Kimani was buried at his father’s home in Kiambu.