Читать книгу In My Dreams I Dance - Anne Wafula-Strike - Страница 10

I developed a reputation as a real tomboy. Despite the constraints of my paralysed legs, my callipers and my crutches, I loved to climb and to take risks. There were a few bunk beds at Joyland for the more able-bodied children and even though it was way beyond the capacity of a girl with my disability, I sometimes tried to haul myself onto the top bunk using my upper body strength. Sometimes I got stuck, but it didn’t stop me from persevering.

We were expected to wash our hands thoroughly before we went to the dining hall. One day for a joke I decided that I was going to wash my legs too. I went to the sink and removed my callipers. My friend lifted one of my legs up to wash it. I was holding the tap with wet hands and I slipped and fell. Instantly I screamed in agony. I had never felt such severe pain in my life. My leg was trapped under the sink.

There were some builders outside. They rushed over and tried to pull my leg out. My whole body was on fire with pain.

‘Please don’t let me die!’ I cried.

The school nurse put me in a wheelchair and took me in a taxi to Kisumu General Hospital, about half an hour away. The first thing they did was to give me some painkillers, followed by an X-ray, which revealed that my right hip was broken. They put me in plaster, bringing back memories of the time when I was encased in plaster after my polio was first diagnosed. My leg was suspended in mid-air in traction with weights attached to it.

Although the doctors admitted me, they weren’t sure what to do with me. They didn’t know whether my hip was twisted from polio or from the fall. So they referred me to a more sophisticated hospital, Russia Hospital, and I was put on an adult orthopaedic ward there.

I was furious with myself for being stupid enough to try and put my leg in the sink. Although it hadn’t been easy getting around on callipers and crutches, at least I had been mobile. Now I was completely stuck.

At first I loathed being in hospital. The food was bad and I was sometimes left sitting on a bedpan for a long time. But I cheered up twice a week when my friends came to visit me. We played games together and they brought me sweets and filled me in on all the Joyland news. When I became mobile enough to drag myself around, I found the children’s wards and started playing with the other children. The teachers at Joyland also sent work to the hospital for me to do so that I didn’t fall too far behind with my studies.

The school felt very responsible for what had happened, even though it wasn’t their fault. The staff visited me regularly, pampered me and brought me special drinks and sweets.

My friends were good too. Sarah was once given an orange for her supper as a special treat. Instead of eating it all herself, she saved half of it for me, a gesture which really touched me.

She was a mischievous girl who had once stolen a cigarette from the workmen and encouraged me to try it. I had almost choked to death when I tried to inhale. The staff were furious and said the fire on a cigarette was like the fire that burned in hell. ‘If you smoke, you’re heading to hell,’ they told me. I was terrified and never touched a cigarette again.

In hospital I lay back and made the most of all the treats and attention that came my way. The staff treated me very well, at least partly because I was connected to white people. It was four months before I was finally discharged and my hip has never fully healed. To this day it is more twisted than my left and makes a clicking sound.

I had enjoyed being the centre of attention in hospital but I had missed school life and my friends and was delighted that my life was getting back to normal.

A few months after I returned to school the teachers told me I had been selected to be head girl for the year. We were all expecting another girl to be chosen, who was very loud and confident, and when I found out they had chosen me instead I laughed. I had never considered myself head girl material.

‘Why do you think they chose me?’ I asked Mama Salome.

‘Well, you have matured a lot, Anne,’ she said, ‘because of the various problems you’ve had, losing your mother and breaking your hip. We all think you’ll do a good job. You don’t get involved in arguments, you look out for others and want to make sure they’re happy. You’re good at playing the peacemaker.’

Once it had sunk in that they were being serious about wanting me for head girl, I was overjoyed. I felt very proud.

Becoming head girl made me look at myself differently. For the first time I started focusing on what I could do rather than what I couldn’t. Before I had considered myself lacking in so many ways. For a start, I was one of the thinnest in the school and I was worried that some of the students wouldn’t respect me because I was so skinny. In Africa people have more status if they’re fatter because it’s considered a sign of greater wealth. Thinness is associated with poverty. But being thin didn’t seem to cause me any problems in my new role.

My parents had instilled it in me that everyone should be treated the same because we were all equal. I tried to apply these rules and the pupils did seem to respect me.

My main role was to act as peacekeeper and make sure there was no bullying going on. I made sure that all the children were included. I also encouraged the older children to look after the younger ones.

If there was any misconduct from the students I was expected to tell a house mother. Sometimes one of them would come and say, ‘Is there a problem?’ I tried to get the balance right between protecting pupils from the wrath of the teachers and acting responsibly and reporting behaviour that was of real concern. I didn’t like ‘grassing up’ children who had misbehaved and only spoke to the teachers if something very serious occurred.

Back in Nairobi my dad had married a woman called Florence. He asked us to call her ‘Mum’, which none of us was happy about at first because she wasn’t our mum. But because she was so kind and nice and looked after all of us so well, we soon grew to love her, although she could never be a replacement for my beloved mum. My dad had moved into a bigger apartment, which was much more comfortable, and my step-mum made a nice home for the family there. I always looked forward to going home and seeing everybody.