The '82 side; what I remember Part 1

The story of 1982 rugby starts in 1981. I was in fourth form and Lenana was having a disastrous rugby season. We even lost to Saints at home, tena on Sterlings (extremely painful).

Alan Bukusi was a great captain but everything just went terribly wrong for his side. The maroon kit by that time was in tatters and seemed to portray the state of our rugby game then. I remember Dave Anderson (the then brand new rugby master) brought in a new school rugby kit but when it arrived everybody was disappointed. It was in Mumia house colors and he was told in no uncertain terms that Lenana rugby kit can ONLY be one color, Maroon. And so the first XV continued to wear their tattered kit and the new kit was passed on to a side that Anderson was busy building on the side for 82. It was christened “Moss Moss” (which I am told is Dholuo for slow slow) and was by invitation only. It consisted of fourth and fifth formers and was really the ’82 side in waiting.

Anderson organized several matches but the most memorable has to be the one we played at Parklands against a very strong Nondies II side. I knew the Nondies players very well at the time because during my 1st term school holidays that very year my parents had moved to the Parklands area and had I decided to train with Nondies during the April holidays even playing in a few games for them. The only problem is that I came face to face with raw racism in one or two of the Nondies players which was difficult to stomach but that is probably a story for another day. My point is that I can authoritatively state here that there were a few regular Nondies first team players on that side we beat.

I have played in many sides and looking back now I believe that it was that game at Parklands in 1981 where the ’82 side “clicked”. At one point of the game, Nondies using their superior pack play were ahead with the difference being a two figure score. But our scrum came back fighting ferociously as the lions tired. Notables here were Spike Ogot, George Mwangi, George Maiko, Dablo etc.

We simply started winning more quality balls from the scrum and when our backs got running Nondies with their superior weight and experience had no answer. The spirit and feeling of invincibility took hold of the team then.

Meanwhile some of us continued playing for the disastrous 1981 side. I got a chance to play in several different positions including 2nd centre and even Wing back. But I rarely got a chance to play full back. That position was taken by one George Steak Ondiek. Ondiek was in fifth form and unknown to many of us was about to leave for the States. That year guys used to watch the 1st XV games because of him. Despite how badly we were doing he would catch the ball in his own 25 yard area and then proceed to dance and hand off opponents until the other 25 (no kidding). It was a joy to watch and we all learnt a lot from steak. It was a fascinating situation where Lenana seemed to thrive that year exclusively on creating opportunities for tries and points from balls unwittingly kicked into the hands of our full back.

Well, I never got a chance until Steak got injured and we were supposed to play RVA at home. I was a bundle of nerves. How do you step into Steak’s shoes, tena at home? I remember Tony Maleche who was at the time a regular on the blind wing for that side encouraging me in the chem. Labs as most of the rest of the class was asleep (the norm in the labs in those days). It was a mid-week game. He told me that I would be fine.

But the really big encouragement for me was after that game (which we lost to RVA) in the usual post-mortem sessions at the lecture hall that Anderson insisted on in 1981 where Steak said that I had done okay but advised me to make better use of the up and unders.

Something else happened during our trips to games. We bonded as a team. I must admit that up to that point I had little respect for what the scrum did in a game. But thanks to Maiko, Mwangi George and Ogot’s outspoken nature during discussions, I started understanding how a game of rugby is always won or lost in the pack, no matter how good your backs are. I think most of the other backs also started appreciating the pack so much so that we never wanted to waste a single quality ball won by the pack. At the time we of course did not know that we were members of a side that would be remembered many decades later, even overshadowing achievements of earlier Lenana sides.

Who was greater 1982 rugby champs or 1977 Eric Shirley winners?

I have to admit that I have personally been taken aback by the massive interest in that fabulous 1982 side that I have seen here in this popular social media platform. Some have even began to compare the ‘82 side to the 1977 Eric Shirley winning side. 

In my view there is no comparison, the 1977 side achieved the impossible and are in a class of their own (and it looks like forever so). I was NOT even in Lenana yet when they lifted that club trophy that August sato in ’77, but I am a permanent student of history albeit one who is willing to be corrected or proved wrong. And I am also saying this having played in a match that featured the full ’82 side (christened Moss Moss) in ‘81 where we beat a strong Nondies II side at Parklands before some very shocked Mzungus.

Memories are fading as the years are slipping by fast and so I have came up with my usually crazy ideas and intend to tell the 1982 story. Hopefully somebody else will tell the 1977 story (I would love to read it).

Starting in my next post, I will attempt to put down what I can remember about magic maroon 1982 before it fades kabisa.

Fosdicks soccer game leads to painful caning

A schoolboy will always inevitably get caned. I too have been caned a few times mostly in primary school (albeit very few because I generally always avoided trouble and was less daring than most). But at Lenana I was caned only once. It was the most painful caning of my life and it happened in Mr Okech’s (then deputy headmaster) office in 1980. Yep that was one year that had plenty of drama for me.

It all started on Fosdicks 1 in a house soccer match against Mumia. I can’t even remember who won that game but most of it consisted of personal clashes between myself and BJ’s twin bro Dave (RIP) in what turned out to be more of a rugby game than a soccer one. Now D (bless his soul) gained a reputation for bullying fellow first formers when we were still in first form and for some reason he did not like me. The truth is that nobody could dare challenge him because even if you managed to win the fight (which was unlikely) there was his twin bro, BJ always hanging around in the shadows who could easily come in and give you a proper beating. And so I always ignored his jeers. To make matters worse he was a known member of the herbalists’ society and in those days I naively feared members of that club because of all the stories I had heard about the super human strength they would gain and the crazy wildness they were capable of.

I guess the whole effect of this was that D always saw me as easy prey.

That soccer match was refereed by Mr Ngure (not sure, you guys will correct me if I am wrong but he taught economics and had a very distinct Kikuyu accent). Naturally he saw what was going on and awarded numerous fouls going both ways during that stormy game.

When the game ended D continued taunting me relentlessly. I ignored him and started walking back to the house. Some of the guys around started laughing as they watched this drama with interest. He said a lot of things which I ignored. He kept talking and then suddenly touched a raw nerve deep inside me. He said something about my late mother. You guys who have been following this know the history and I probably had a lot of pent up emotions about this subject in particular.

The next thing that happened was that I found myself on top of D pinning him to the ground. I saw nothing but red. That scuffle could not have lasted a minute and some level headed guys managed to pull us apart. Knowing what I know now I dread the kind of damage that D would have managed to inflict on me, knowing pressure points in the body and all from his karate background. But I guess my advantage is that I took him totally by surprise.

Mr Ngure came over and asked what was happening. Somebody told him and he grabbed both D and I by the hand and took us to the Deputy headmaster. I don’t remember whether it was at his house in the school or he had been reffing another soccer game. I guess I can’t remember because I was still in a very emotional state. But what I remember is that we were given an appointment to see Okech the next day in his office on the upper floor of the crash hall.

As we waited for him outside his office with D, I had plenty of regrets over the incident. This was just not me. What the heck had come over me? But at least I could see that one good thing had come out of it. D now had respect for me. But I had gained it at great cost.

“You boysh[sic] have been fighting.” Okech said looking at us sternly. “Why were you fighting?”

I didn’t know what to say and neither did D. He was caned first. He braced himself after the first one but the second was too much and he stood up holding his back side. I stared in apprehension knowing I was next. When it was my turn I couldn’t even take the first one.

“Bend over Kavila, I am not finished.”

By the time he was done with the three. The searing pain had reached the top of my head and I felt like my backside was on fire. I had never been caned like that in my entire life.

“If I see you here again, you will have to go home.” Were Okech’s parting words.

Secretly I had one very huge regret over this incident. In 1980 I had already started plotting to be head of school one day. According to me I had now tainted my clean record irreversibly and was out of the running. It haunted me for many days and forced me to look deep into myself wondering what the heck had come over me to lose my head in such a reckless manner. I couldn’t stop kicking myself for the rest of that third term for this huge blunder I had made. To me even the respect and the fact that D now left me alone was no consolation.

Class trouble that strated from the rugby pitch

One of the most controversial incidents of 1980 took place in a third form maths class with sodium. There was actually a scuffle between him and Big Jim (BJ) that some like to refer to as a fight. But the whole thing actually started on a rugby pitch and so that’s the right place to start this tale.

It was virtually impossible to beat Mumia on Ridge One which they considered their home ground being only a heart beat away from the house of men. And so before a game against Mumia in the inter-house Junior rugby 7-a-side that year I helped give a pep talk that got us Kirk guys really psyched up and ready to attempt the impossible. Still the game went predictably with Mumia taking an early lead even as we fought back ferociously and somehow held the score down.

Then some of the Mumia players did what you never EVER do to a ref. The truth is that Sodium was not very conversant with rugby rules but you still do not make careless comments out of anger. Mumia with a comfortable lead that they just needed to hang onto made that fatal mistake. Sodium lost it and promptly gave us a totally unwarranted penalty about 25 yards out. Mumia kept on grumbling and without hesitating he moved the penalty to about 5 yards from the Mumia try line. To be fair to Mumia it was actually supposed to be an indirect free kick but Sodium did not indicate whether it was direct or indirect, which I deviously took advantage of (my sincere albeit belated apology goes out to Mumia).

BJ and his ferocious brother stood right in front of me and those who knew the terrible twins will know what I am not exaggerating when I say that this was an impenetrable wall that probably only a tank would have had a chance of going through. And so charging over the line was out of question. I would be lying if I said that as I held the ball to take the kick I felt confident.

It was the dying minutes of the game and so I decided to take a huge risk. I tapped the ball and swung my arms as if I was going to make a long pass. To my utter relief Big Jim and his bro moved in the direction of my hands and I went over the line for a try which Sodium awarded. I believe the conversion went over but what I am certain about is that we won that game very narrowly.

Livid is a weak word to describe what our Mumia opponents felt as the final whistle was blown immediately after the conversion.

The next day in the Maths class Big Jim was still fuming over what he must have felt (quite rightly) was a victory stolen from them. When Sodium walked into the class it did not take him long to realize it. He asked BJ to stand up and get out of his class which he refused. And that was when he completely lost it and attempted to push him out. Now BJ was extra-ordinarily strong. We went on to play rugby with him at many levels and I saw him many times do things to people who were twice his weight that you and I wouldn’t even manage with people much lighter. And so Sodium’s best efforts yielded zero. It would have been funny if the possible consequences of what was happening were not so grave. A few guys who were close to BJ intervened and tried to persuade him to obey. He did not budge. Sodium threw what was supposed to be a punch but BJ easily intercepted it and held his hand. Luckily BJ suddenly opted to walk out in disgust and Sodium followed him out of a shell shocked class.

I don’t quite remember how the matter was settled, but to Sodium’s credit BJ was not even suspended although such a case would have warranted an expulsion.

And it all began on a rugby pitch.

I am grateful that I got to know BJ fairly well in the years that followed and discovered to my shock the soft side of him. I know if he were to read this he would have looked at me with that mock threatening look I still see and said something Like; “You, Jaha, I’ll beat you.” I miss him like so many people who will read this thread do. RIP BJ.

My plot fails

From left to right: the late Foxy Kimani, Okello Aliker and yours truly. This was probably 1979 when we were in second form.

By 1980 I had already seen two seasons of rugby at Lenana and was determined to wear the maroon kit ASAP. The previous year I had played for senior colts and so in 1980 I was supposed to start training with the first 30.

I plotted my move early before even the term started and decided that the only way I could do it with such major stars as Madara and Steak Ondiek amongst others on the back line was to switch to the scrum. I was big enough and I felt that I could learn quickly.

Davies had left the previous year and Owuor “sodium” had taken over as rugby master. However with his limited knowledge of rugby the student officials took charge of training. Head of School Andy Mwenesi was handling the pack and Madara was with the backs. And so at the first practice I headed over to the forwards. Mwenesi took one look at me and said; “You’re not a forward, go join the backs.”

I did not have the courage to defy the head of school and so I meekly trotted back to the backs and my fate as a regular second XV player. In retrospect it seems that I had already stood out as a back in house matches and at that level a rookie trying to learn how to be a forward was unacceptable.

But even if I was not in the 1st XV I quickly learnt that there were other advantages of training with the very best in the school. One day during that second term, Mwenesi walked into our third form class to find us making a racket. There was pin drop silence the minute he walked in and our hearts stopped beating.

Mwenesi, like a number of head boys before him was greatly feared and respected. The crash hall would empty in seconds the minute he was sighted around the music school coming up school from Mumia. Everybody knew he was no nonsense, although we heard he was pretty popular and a regular guy before he was made head boy.

He started to walk away and from a minute we thought that it was all over. And then the dreaded words came out of his mouth.

“School pres comm tomorrow morning.”

The rest of the day and the next morning were all spoilt because naturally we could think of nothing else but terror at the tower. Our rabble days were over but it was certainly not the end of trouble at Lenana.

There was no door to get into the school pres comm. On the third floor of the administration block. But the procedure those days was that you knocked with your head on the wall until you were told to come in. Since we were a whole class only one person knocked and we were all ordered to get in. We then knelt down and waited for school prefects to finish their tea and the famous “triangles”. So that thye could deal with us. The waiting alone was pure torture. If you are going to be hanged isn’t it better thye get t over with quickly instead of keeping you waiting?

As I was kneeling, Mwenesi walked over to me still holding his tea mug. “You Kavila, go away,” he barked. I quickly got up, not believing my luck and got the hell out of tower. Behind my back I heard him tell one other guy from Mumia who was not a rugby player to also go away.

I believe the rest of the guys were put on working parties and a few unlucky ones who had dirty socks or something received a few slaps.

I really began to love this game of rugby which already seemed to get me out of tight spots off the pitch.