Agush Nyang

Caught Stealing Newspapers

There used to be my uncle, who’s not really my uncle, (yet some other distant relative). He is Ngala baba junior, worked at standard media grp and lived in kayole and also had a shop where his wife sold. Well on some weekends I used to go to his house and watch tv and just relax and for once eat bread and tea, something I had missed so much. Wait this is not exactly how this happened. Im typing a lot my wrists hurt a lot, I just took off my wristwatch and put it on my desk beside my laptop as I type this, thinking its weight caused the hurting, but they still hurt. I twist them abit.

So how exactly it happened is this, while living with the hell woman or woman from hell that was my uncles, who was not relay my uncle, the one who brought me to Nairobi, he is called Maurice wuon tony, and I had lived with him while going to high school before they made it full boarding. Another hell experience. You see those horror stories we used to read in Kiswahili text books of orphaned kids being mistreated by guardians and step parents, well worse happened to me and us. Talk about it later though, this is good stuff. Well so that uncle who I lived with during form 1 and 2 high school, he brought me to Nairobi and gave me over to his brother wuon Oscar Otieno . He is called baba Oscar, his son Oscar was going to kmtc to be a clinical officer at the time. He was called Otieno himself. His wife was horrible. What was I even driving at. Ok so I used to pray everyday to god to take me from this hell woman. And one day, and by the way I used to be very broke and went to school in tatters. I used to carry some bag, black. One day I had a late lecture and was trekking home at around 7pm when some thieves ambushed me near mlango kubwa on juja road near chai road. They twisted and squeezed my neck so hard it hurt for days. They took my bag. Probably thought it had a laptop and that they had just scored a jackpot. Woe unto them, all they got was a few scrappy books.

Figure broke and in tatters, second year at TUK. That trouser was so big it looked like a sack

I couldn’t even get money to buy new books. Its my friend Edu footballer, the only guy from Migori boys from our 2014 year, with whom we had been the only 2 people from the that high school and KCSE year and rural area, to come to the same university, tuk. Its him who helped me with some books. He used to live near the place coincidentally. (Wait it can’t be that he’s the one who arranged for the thieves to rob me so he’d help me, can it? Haha. Just a joke of course not, he’s a good guy. In campus my main problems and areas if hardship were around fare, food and school fees. I used to be hungry a lot and there wasn’t food. First year in Nairobi was the worst. So, I used to pass by the place where he lived with his uncle, watch tv, cook and eat with him and just hangout. Meant a great deal and lot to me,. Thanks sana Edu. He lived with some Ethiopians there, Entire stairs used to smell some weird smell haha.

Figure With a classmate, Lucy Ochiel. She is gay now

You guys wouldn’t believe who the hell woman, mama Oscar, who I lived with, actually is. You see this Rachel otuoma who recently in Kenya became a celebrity after he dated this footballer who because ill, and she stuck by him through everything, and it warmed the hearts of Kenyans and she became a celebrity after he eventually passed? So that Rachel, her mother was the hell mother, believe it or not. Mama Oscar and Rachel used to mistreat me and deny me food a lot of times and was very horrible to me. I know exactly why. You guys would believe.

You see, living with his husbands brother during form 1 and 2, his daughter, Cynthia, her other daughter also went to school nearby. And we went to high school concurrently, and when KCSE results were out, I had passed and called to the university and was lived at their house, while she had gotten a D and couldn’t get into any, so I suspect, no I know, her mom was jealous of me, and mistreated me for it. Hope you guys got who Cynthia is, right?. Ok here it is: this is exactly how is how my family tree really is. You guys are about to be mind blown.

Figure young Agus Nyang

Ok I was born supposedly on January 7th 1996 in Migori, Suna West Constituency, Nyanza Province, Western Kenya. I had an older brother, and our sister is the eldest. Dadi was him and Mercy she is, she is a teacher right now. She is also studying at Mount Kenya university to not be just a primary school teach but a secondary school teacher . It pays I think 10k more haha. This Kenya wueh. They pay teachers peanuts and its unfair by a lot of ways. Anyway. Childhood was horrible.

Figure With amam ma kamin Faruk, one of the numeroud half non-cousins

Ok so here is how I’m actually related to all these people. You see my mother, she died a few months , not more than 2 years, after she gave birth to me, that’s a year almost after my father had himself passed. So Here I was, orphaned at only 2 years of age, and we had the horror childhood of all time, me and my brother, 3 years and sister 4 years old at the time, themselves.

Ok so my mother, you see her husband, our father, my father, you see his mother. No wait. Ok. This is confusing even to me. Ok so you see Wuon Doty my uncle, who is not really my uncle, he’s the one who we have lived with and been barely schooled by our entire life, in Oruba area near Milimani Primary School, at the boma called Ka Nanda. Its almost right in between the distance from Sangla and Milimani Primary Schools. So its him, Wuon Doty, together with his mom, our “grandma” who we called Dani, who we lived with our entire life.

So Wuon Doty, he has his father, Jaduong Mzee Nanda who had like 6 wives, and we lived at his main home in Oruba, Migori. He also had a second home for the third set of a third of the wives, the youngest pair, in an area called Bwembu past Bondo Nyironge in Suna West, Migori. In addition, he had a third home for the remaining set and pair of his third and fourth wives somewhere in Nyakach, Kisumu. Well so actually in the correct order it was that the first and second wives lived in Oruba(with us), the fourth and third wives in Nyakach, (I think is in Kisumu I’m not sure), and the last set (the smallest wives-in age and order of being “added”), Min Mcheso and Min Apaya, (Apaya who just recently had an accident,) lived in Bwembu.

Ok so you see Wuon Doty’s father who had 6 wives, he had other brothers and sisters. One sister gave birth to my blood father (who died a year after I was born), and another sister gave birth to the uncle Wuon Tony Maurice and Wuon Oscar, among others (Wuon Tony Maurice who would take me to Nairobi for my first day at TUK and leave me at the hands of his brother Wuon Oscar Otieno, and his hell wife.)

So there it is: Wuon Doty who with his mom we lived our entire lives and barely schooled, he is the son of the brother to my Paternal grandma.

So, Wuon Doty took us to school barely. And his father who we called our grandfather, and his mother, who we called Dani, Mama Plaster Ajwang, who we miss a lot, they barely schooled us. Growing up, we grew up at the house of the grandma. That’s where we ate and went to the shamba from, really.( It is a large extended homestead; now deserted though. Its sad). I miss Dani, our grandma. Well she was horrible at times too, but now that I think about it, largely she brought us up, me, and my brother, and several other half non brothers and sisters, fairly well. And therefore horrible may be a bit harsh. I’m sure she did the best she could especially with me, for as I said, I wasn’t an easy child either.

Don’t ask about my sister at this point, for you would be confused and get thrown off way farther than you probably already have.

So growing up, among other chores, I used to look after the cows almost every day, and life was horrible. I hated every minute of that, most especially. Well that and the shamba, and the hunger, and the being pulled away from school constantly to go to the shamba, and the constant beatings and the whippings, and hitting and thrashing, and the running away from home when it became unbearable, and the walking around in tatters even at school where we trekked 20km daily to and fro. We lacked school uniforms most of the time, it was the least of our worries. Once or twice there was an NGO, RAPADO that donated a pair of uniforms to me and my brother. We used to eat some horrible meals and foods. Is till hate them to date. Boo, aka kunde, cassava, aka mahanya, boiled corn with no beans in it, (tastes way horrible than it reads trust me), black ugali from sorghum and millet, and sukuma wiki and other horrible weeds for veges, cooked with not enough or no tomatoes, fat or onions, at all. We would eat these everyday. I hated it. I still hate such foods so much, and my wife Cathy and the wives and girlfriends I have had have always known better than to even ask if I want such foods for supper or lunch, I wouldn’t. ( especially now that I can afford something small, haha). I hated that life.

Figure in class, around Third year

But it made who I am today, really. Think about it. I probably wouldn’t be the person I am today, (if I am even anything yet), if I instead had been a pampered and pompered baby, growing up. It toughened me real good. No it did. Really did.

Anyways so, we would eat kunde and black ugali almost every day for like a week straight. Tea and other luxurious foods were unheard of, except maybe once of twice like in a year when visitors from Kidieny, church fellowship came over, when the githeri would for once be with beans, the uji with sugar, or at Christmas when the Tea would have a little bit of milk in it. It was millet porridge, fermented, with no sugar every hour of every day till the sweet release death.

But food wasn’t the only issue, growing up. I, we, used to lack shoes to even go to school. Child labour was the norm. We used to work at the shamba for long hours everyday with no food, no nothing. We would be beaten like animals. I hated looking after cows everyday. We would constantly get beaten by a neighbour whose crops that ratchet cow Ngilu, belonging to Min Faith (the smaller wife at the main Oruba home), had gone to eat and destroy. We would be mistreated, (it was to me: yes, mistreatment). For example, We would be woken up at 3am to go to the shamba. We would be asked to work on the shamba for unusually longer hours. The older uncles who we used to work with in the shamba would beat me all the time. I hated every minute of that life. Whenever we went to the other home in Bwembu, it was worse. The food situation was worse. Everything was worse. Back home, it was worse than the worse it had been. I used to be told not to go to school, but look after cows and go work in the shamba. I hated it. We used to stay hungry the whole day with no lunch, I can vividly recall.

Going to school, lunch was unheard off. The horrible, sugarless, fermented uji, porridge that we had taken at 6am was supposed to last us till 9pm that day, when we had another round of mahanya, boiled corn, with leftover uji, or boiled Sukuma wiki and terrible, brown ugali, or some other horrible non foods. Once or twice we would be allowed to carry some uji in old bottles to school, but what’s even that to a hungry stomach of a hungry boy who is supposed to compete at school and academic, with well fed kids and perform well? At some point they tried to “write for us” to be going to some nearby hotel for lunch for a 30 both ugali and skuma wiki meal, but that was soon after halted as it was unsustainable.

Don’t get me wrong, some of these happenings and hardships were due to us just being poor, but also some of the relatives , uncles, guardians etc. were just horrible people. Used to beat me up a lot. It was hell. But I survived.

I started my schooling at age 4, going to Sangla Primary School, for I think pre unit to class 2 and 3. Then went to Rehema Academy, where we used to go with Wuon Doty’s eldest son, Ojode. Dotty is his eldest, Ojode follows her. Well he isn’t really called Ojode, that’s just a name we called him. I was Kabra or Brian, or Kabi depending on the person calling me and the circumstances. When it was trouble I was Brian, otherwise I was Kaka or Kabi. Ojode’s real name is Eliud Mathew, and he is very cool, really. I used to take him to school. The bread and butter his mom packed him as school snacks at lunch, barely made it outside the fence, we would eat right outside the gate haha. He is now in University of Nairobi doing some Agribusiness course. He usually comes to my place to just relax and use free Wi-Fi. I don’t mind. His dad did a lot for us. I make sure he doesn’t lack and eats well whenever he comes. He once in a while asks for 200 or so. I understand comrades life, I try to each time send.

After only 2 terms at Rehema Academy, it just wasn’t sustainable so I was moved to Oruba Primary to join the others. Oruba was the school where a lot of the other numerous non relatives but who we called brothers and sisters, also with family and backgrounds similar to my own(with poor single or no parents at all, like Afelo, Msera, Faruk, Akoli, Sta, Atieno, Gilo, Tai, Amam, etc.), used to go. Atieno especially was the one who helped wash our school uniforms when we went to the shamba, cooked, cleaned, etc. When I was little, around 3 or 4 years, I suffered some horrible bouts of measles, polios etc., and she would wash me and get me boiled in basinfuls (metallic karaya, really) of some traditional herbs, mwarubani twigs, horribly smelling and burning ogak, and later apply some ointment on the numerous body scars and wounds I had for years. For a while it was thought I wouldn’t make it from such severe illnesses. I was in horrible health for years; had wrinkly and feeble legs and arms, both covered in boils and scars, and whatnot. But God’s really great guys. Let me tell you, God really is great. Really.

Oruba Primary was far from home. Very. Like 15kms or 20 or so. We used to stay hungry for lunch every day, as I said. I don’t really think the occasional sugarless uji counts, does it? Probably. Probably not. But its not like there was anything back home, even if you came back home all you’d find was the family dog sat at the fireplace, a stark representation that really there was nothing to even prepare. But as I said, sometime, we could carry sugarless porridge, black or white but mostly the black kind, to school for lunch. It was horrible. My brother and I have really suffered in this life. May God help us and be with us always, and bless us, and keep us, and bless us with the best health and longer days and longest life, and protection, and everything, Amen.

I learned and went through school quickly, and never repeated a class. My older brother however once or twice did which is why when I was in form 3 he was just starting form 1 in sagero secondary school. Which was awkward but oh well. In KCPE I had 303 marks which was a good fete considering the background and hardships I’d gone through. I was called to a boarding school far away, Anjego Secondary School but there wasn’t fees for a boarding school, so I was sent to live with Maurice, Wuon Tony, whose mother is the sister of my paternal grandma, as you can remember. My grandma was married and cooked in Tanzania. The Bwembu home is by the way just a few kms from the Kenya Tanzania border and therefore also not that far from our grandmas place in Waturi, near Wategi, on your way to Musoma, Tanzania.

I have ever only once gone there. I’d love to once again go visit while she still is alive. I hear she isn’t doing very well health wise lately, my grandma. Yes she still is alive. My sister discourages me every time I bring up such nonsense. Its about some horrible thing that once happened maybe before we were born. Apparently she, our grandma, was horrible to his own son, our late dad. And dad had ran away from home in search for greener pasters in Kenya, and had come to live with his uncle, the grandpa who had 6 wives, (and the father of Wuon Dotty). He had run from home in TZ to come to Kenya in search for better life, just like her eldest kid and daughter would, 5 years after her birth, and 4 after his passing. And That’s how we ended up being born in Kenya, and raised by dad’s uncle, and his son Wuon Doty, and his first wife Mama Plister. But our grandma still lives in Tanzania, even right now.

Maybe I will visit one day if I get the money, for you can’t also show up, after all these years, empty handed. Even going to my maternal grandpas place last December, I had had to put it off for a long time not because I didn’t want to but because of money money money. But after putting away some little money from a teaching gig, I finally went last December (29th Dec 2024) and it was good. He was happy. He got to finally see his great grandchild, my son with Teresia, Levi Agumba.

Well so after completing primary school and KCPE, I was sent from one hell to another. Maurice Wuon Tony’s wife, Min Tony was yet another very horrible human being. The damn woman used to mistreat me a lot, just like her sister in law, Rachel Otuoma and Cynthia and Oscar’s mother Min Oscar Otieno, later in life would. Or maybe I was the problem. Haha. I wasn’t an easy kid, I’ll give them that. I am not an easy guy to deal with either even now. I used to be cheeky and mischievous too, not gonna lie. But she was horrible alright. They both were, really, to me.

Figure form 1

Anyway, form 1 and form 2 came. This was in 2011 and 12, the year Kenya’s former minister Orwa Ojode was murdered alongside the then sitting Security Minister George Saitoti, in a chopper crash. They apparently shot it down or gave the pilot some lethal gas to breath or interfered with the chopper engines and mechanics some how, or so I usually see conspiracy theories and theorists posit online. That’s why we nicknamed Wuon Doty’s eldest son, Eliud or Msee as he was also widely called at home, as Ojode. At home we called him msee just like I was called Brian or Kaka or Kabra (but never Isaac Agumba, my official names.) . One was rarely called by their name at home, for we had nicknames for everyone. My brother Victor Okumu was Dadi and is Dadi to date (which is funny because to me he was the elder brother and with no parents, was like the father figure, dad, to me). A lot of other people were also called Msee though.

Figure Sis, me and Dadi, in order from lhs to rhs

Life at Wuon Tony’s was harsh but I soldiered on and never gave up, for schooling was my only hope and way out of all these mysteries, and I knew that all too well.

Going into 2013 and my form 3, Migori Boys was put to be a full boarding school, and so I had to be a full boarder too(it had been a mixed Day and Boarding School all along). But then there wasn’t money, any, at home for a day schooler leave alone a boarder. You wouldn’t believe what I did: I went anyways. For several weeks if not months, I was a boarder but without even a mattress or a blanket or a metal box(famous with boarders at the time), or anything of the sort of amenities which were typical and almost mandatory of a boarding school life. So what I would do is, I used to hide around. I would steal food and sneak my way into the food line at the dining hall. I would borrow everything from here and there, and bunk with a friend and another tomorrow. And ladies and gentlemen, It was horrible, but that’s exactly how my first few weeks at Migori Boys High School form 3 went. Ask some of my high school classmates and now friends like Francis Messi, and they would tell you the same thing.

Figure in form 3

One day the grandpa who had like 6 (ish) wives came and pulled me out of school. He wanted to sell a parcel of land our late dad had left us, but needed our signature. Dadi my brother had also been earlier pulled out of his own school, Sagero, and we met at the chief’s place where such signings and land thefts took place. We were made to sign our fathers last remaining piece of land away. Well not made to, per se, but then we didn’t know any better. I for one didn’t even know what the hell any of that was about, at the time. I would only later get to know just how big of a deal it had been. And we signed it all away for a bottle of soda. We didn’t know what anything was then. We were naïve. What 13 year old already knows the concept of wealth and land and wealth inheritance etc.? Well some may do but..I don’t know.

But there had been several such parcels of land and wealth, for example some cattle and an old car, etc., that had allegedly(no, not allegedly, really) been taken away, and been being taken away bit by bit from us all those years, the same way. My brother would only later in life, (that was around 3 years ago from today 18th October 2025), try to follow up on all that and get no where. IT WOULD NOT GO WELL.

Dadi would be branded a nuisance and get into a lot of trouble with those responsible uncles, especially Wuon Doty and Wuon Tony. It was during a period he was himself undergoing through a lot of problems, personally and financially. He had finished form 4 but not able to get anywhere good further, and resorted to manual jobs here and there, depressed and disillusioned. He would come to Nairobi briefly for a Standard newspaper gig but that would too be short-lived when Standard newspaper collapsed. He would get a manual job here and there and at some point would find himself in Kihunguro, Ruiru, and I would one day visit him there. He would later get associated with some medical services providers and drive their ambulances briefly but that would also soon after end. He would later find himself in Machakos, where he to date lives, with some trade school trainers on emergency medical services and responders but that would also later end due to lack of school fees etc.

Figure Dadi bro with his son Manu

He would meet a nice Kamba lady there, Phelly, and they would get a bouncy baby boy, my nephew Manu who I like very much. Financial problems would later start and he would go back home to try to follow up on the stolen land and wealth but that would get messy, driving him deeper into depression and causing his wife to run with the baby the same way my own Teresia would run with my baby when I lost my KCB job and became dead broke(why are they like that though?). He would around August 2024 luckily get a referral by Afelo, one of the other numerous half non brothers we lived with our entire lives, for a lorry driver job that would make his life easier. Afelo at the time would be a very successful businessman selling handbags, suitcases, pillows and mats and bedding near Gikomba, in Kamukunji, and had their Chinese suppliers needing a lorry driver, a job for which he would recommend and give to Dadi, and one he still does to date. Afelo at the time lived and lives, still, in Kayole near Masimba near where Dadi himself once lived. Tai and Samora, yet other half non brothers or non uncles to me I don’t really know, also once lived around the same area doing some manual mkokoteni cart pushing jobs.