Someone, we’ll never know who, nicknamed our high school deputy principal ‘Albino’ because he was too brown, and the nickname stuck like a grim memory. When we joined form one we found him being called albino and so we jumped on the bandwagon and passed on the name to the new form ones who proudly whispered the name to the form ones after them. It was in bad taste, obviously, and you may choose to descend on me, but it didn’t feel right when I tried to write this story without using that nickname, so here I am, praying that I will still be alive long after this blog post is up.
He did not like that name. The naive form ones who were too dumb to realize it was a nickname would use that name near him and they would end up being slapped so hard till they had nightmares at night. But it wasn’t just the nickname that he hated, he also hated me. I can’t tell why, but he hated me and I hated him.
One night, in form three, a strike broke out and people were baying for his blood. I can’t tell why we were striking, all I know is that the school goons had decided they wanted to have albino’s liver for dinner. He was a staunch Luhya guy with a huge potbelly, so the goons had figured his liver would feed them for the remainder of the second term. As the goons chanted ‘Albino!’ while charging towards his house hurling stones, I decided I wasn’t ready for this shit. I had witnessed so many strikes since I joined that school and I knew the moment the cops arrived, things would be messy, noisy, and there would be casualties.