DANGEROUS TIME

Episode 4.

A few days later Mzee Komba gave me money for fees, fares and expenses so that I could go to school. My parents were happy and promised to hold a thanksgiving service a week after I left for school. I left accompanied to Songea town by my father Mzee Ngonyani.

Around half past three in the morning, I left for the Superfeo minibus to go to Njombe with a smile on my face. In the past, the community whispered, "Elder Komba is not a man of blabla, when he promises he acts with certainty, his actions obey his mouth."

Around eight o'clock in the afternoon, the bus we were on entered Njombe town and we got off some passengers leaving the bus heading to Mbeya. I asked two young men at the stand to direct me to where the Njombe secondary school for boys is and they direct me to it. I started walking towards the school. When I arrived at school I reported and was shown the dormitory and the classroom and then started the lessons. Being late, I studied very hard, that is day and night, I tried to have good morals in school so that every teacher who saw me loved me for my behavior and efforts in the classroom. I kept the first ten numbers every time it came to exams. I returned home happily, my brothers had hope for me.

Or really, the lucky one is not lucky. When it came to the end of the year while I was on holiday at the end of the year, that is in December, Elder Komba died of a lung disease that was bothering him. I felt my body was numb and my mind stopped, I saw a heavy loss and I said to myself, "Bad poverty". I felt depressed because my dreams were ruined and I stayed in the village after school opened in January. I stayed at home for three months, my parents didn't even have a shilling, then one day I decided to say goodbye to my parents and start a journey on foot around eleven o'clock with a bag on my back carrying food and a few cents to eat on the way, while trusting the drivers and conductors they will listen to me and probably take me for free. Mdogomdogo I walked carelessly passing through the town of Songea and finally started counting the villages, when I was tired I asked the good Samaritans for help to sleep when it got dark.

Motorcycles and cars that met me on the way passed me at a speed that left me sighing in my heart, saying to myself, "Worst poverty, I wish I had money, I would be in these cars" I was not appreciated. When I stopped the cars stopped but when I asked for help the conductors did not want to listen to me. They insulted me and told the drivers to leave the park, sometimes even the passengers shared the sin of judging me, the world really weighed down on me. I slept in several villages but the event I remember the most is that of a family of really good Samaritans in the village of Lilondo in the Madaba area. When I woke up in Lilondo in one of Mr. Mzee Msigwa's family where I was met by an Elder who was on his way to Iringa that morning. After being given an explanation by Mzee Msigwa, we had a short interview and he told me to get in the car and then he would pay for my fare to Njombe town.

I thanked him a lot because I was already starting to see myself burdened by the journey, again my legs were swollen and my body ached every part from the fatigue of the journey. Finally around four o'clock in the morning we managed to enter Njombe town, I thanked the old man again, he shook my hand and wished me good studies and then I got off the bus and made my way to Njombe Secondary School.

When I saw the school buildings, my body felt numb, but what could I do? I came to the accounting office, where the first question was about the fee, I was really at a loss for words. I kept shedding tears and stuttering as if I was tongue-tied, I couldn't explain properly and I kept crying tears soaking my shirt non-stop. With the mercy of the Principal and his leadership, I was given more time to pay the fee after reacting to my problem. I continued to study while living in the dormitory and eating school meals as usual, while I had no money to spend and my classmates helped me with whatever they had.

I lived like a beggar until the end of May, the school was closed and I had to stay at school during the holidays. I asked for a job feeding cows at the home of a teacher named Dastan, who was encouraging me to continue with school. He took me out of the dormitory and I lived with him where it is very close to the school. While I was staying with the teacher, one day I went to visit my friend with whom I had finished the seventh grade named Swamwel. He was living there in Njombe town with his aunt, he gave me good advice by directing me to go to a priest known as Father John. He was born in the village of Likuyufusi, where I come from and he was doing his priestly work in the main province of Songea. When I came back from there, I told teacher Dastan everything that happened, and teacher Dastani seemed to smile saying, "It's a good ideas you need to implement it quickly...." after a few conversations, the teacher aged between 30 to 35 years old, average fat and about five feet tall, white, gentle and very attentive before giving an opinion he allowed me to go to Songea. He gave me the fare to and fro insisting that if I see that things are not going well, I should not delay.

Luck has no promises but it has miracles, it became another opportunity to find a place so that I could study. I left the town of Njombe the next morning at about three o'clock, with a heavy cloud spread like spring and the wind blowing. I was wearing a heavy black jacket over my shirt. It was the winter season and only pants and a shirt were not enough for the severe cold of Njombe. Even those wearing sweaters trembled when they saw me, I boarded the bus at the main stand and went on my way, putting God first in my journey, the whole way I talked to God in my soul.

I arrived in Songea and after getting off the bus I started walking because there were only a few steps from the main stand to the Catholic Diocese, it was in the middle of town. That is where the office of the Father known as Father John was located in the province. Sweat poured down my body and I took off my jacket and was left with my black shirt and my khaki fabric pants.

When I approached the entrance gate of the state, I met a sister who was wearing a white skirt and a white blouse, thick, white with medium height. He was coming out of the church, I think he was coming out of the afternoon prayer, because it was 7:00 p.m. He looked at me with a gentle look. I greeted him by bowing a little, he responded to me with a gentle voice and then he asked me my name and I mentioned it to him. She told me her name is Neema Luoga, then she told me that she is better known as Sista Neema. Indeed, he received me with good words and I explained the problem that brought me to that state.

With gentleness and generosity he directed me to the office where Father John is and I thanked him and went where I was directed. My heart was suddenly filled with peace and I found myself eager to explain what led me. The fear left the way I was walking quickly towards the office. "A good reception is the beginning of a good thing", I said to myself.

I walked through the corridor to the office, then I knocked on the doorbell. And the door was opened directly by a black man, about five feet tall, wearing bright glasses, who I felt was exactly Father John. He invited me to the table, then I greeted him, "Hold on" tears flowing as I couldn't control myself. "From where?" he asked me, showing a small surprised look. I greeted him and he responded, "Congratulations my boy, just say your problem because your heart is hurting." He spoke to me gently. I wiped my tears with my shirt and then I started to tell him. He listened to me carefully without blinking his eyes, then he said to me, "So you got it right!" I'm Father John, so wait in half an hour, I'll be back, I have something urgent that I need to..." he left inside and headed outside, leaving me in the office, sitting in a chair.

When he came back he went in and sat in his chair and then put his hand in his shirt and took out a blue ink pen. He wrote something on a piece of paper and called a young man who was a church servant who was passing by because the door was open. He told him to send the paper that had a message written on it to the person he mentioned by the name of Mr. Jacob. I personally could not know the Jacob to whom the paper was sent. Father John was questioning me about this and that in the office.

After a while Jacob came back and told him, "I found him and he has read it and then he wrote and gave me a message on this paper to read" he read it and explained to me that, "Young man, I am ready to help you, but you will need to use that opportunity carefully, all your strength and all your intelligence you need to take it to school You won't have a chance to think about Likuyufusi, because now you have to prepare your life. I understand the problems at home, but right now you have to have a brave heart", he spoke with a gentle and generous voice.