In the face of unrelenting discrimination, this young man learned that resilience and respect for oneself are a path to success. (Part 4 in the series)
The villagers accused my family of witchcraft, and I knew I could not change the mind of my accusers through mere words alone. They would continue to judge and condemn us. I needed to take action, but what could I do?
I noticed that my school had yet to produce any candidates for university from the past national exams. It was only a village school, and it lacked the resources of larger communities. The villagers thought I would follow the trend of not making it to the university and all the students would suffer with few prospects for the future.
I decided that I would be the first in my school to pass the national exams and go to university. I was unsure how to make that happen, yet I was bound and determined to do so. I would combat the discrimination I felt through academic achievement, not so much to prove I could accomplish this to others but to prove to myself I was good enough.
I faced some challenges in school. We did not have enough teachers for our three essential classes, and we had unsupervised, self-taught study sessions to learn the material. Fellow students harassed me and often chased me from the class. We boarded at the school, and the harassment continued after hours. There wasn't enough money to supply adequate food and nutrition to the students. Even in the teacher-taught classes, the teachers rarely taught all the material in the course syllabus. It was hard, but I never shied away from my promise to my father, "I will make it."
My family believed in organized religion and the existence of God—particularly my mother, who was the family prayer warrior. She often gathered us together to pray, especially in these difficult times. All we had was each other. She believed in powers that come from prayer. She sought divine intervention to help us navigate through our difficulties.
I spent countless hours outside the classroom studying, doing assignments, and seeking out my teachers for one-on-one help. I knew I had to do extraordinary work to pass the university entrance exams. Despite all the obstacles, I maintained my standing as the top academic student for my level. Time and time again, I persisted and held my first place standing year after year.
I stopped competing with my fellow students and competed with myself, trying to do better and better with each assignment and test. I could not, would not, relax. I knew to slow down or stop would be detrimental. My will to succeed was strong.
I became the top student in my school and the region. I passed the national exams with flying colors. I secured admission to a university, a first for my family and our village school. My hard work and perseverance paid off. Officials throughout the village and the region gave our family accolades.
My former friends, classmates, and villagers were astonished. Their judgment and condemnation turned to respect and, by extension, my father and the family. Perhaps we were wrong, they thought.
My family continued to experience residual ill treatment from some people, but most had changed their minds. My siblings and parents breathed a little easier and gradually stopped looking over their shoulders in fear.
I remember watching a video of a speech given by Barack Obama, the former President of the United States of America. He talked about his father, who came from Kenya. Obama spoke about his first trip to Kenya. He was a skinny kid with a funny name. No one knew him, but everyone recognized his father's name, a well-known, former senior economist in the Kenyan government. Obama's story inspired me, and he became my role model. I was that skinny kid with the funny-sounding name too. I could set my destiny.
My academic success was a breakthrough for our family. Three of my siblings have followed in my footsteps and attended and graduated with university degrees.
My family is no longer the social pariah of our village. We have new friends who respect my family. People seek out my father for his viewpoints on a variety of matters.
It is a new dawn for our family. We know that others' discrimination cannot hold us down unless we choose to let it. When I return home, I will often stand atop the rocky hill overlooking our village and think about the skinny kid who transformed himself and, in the process, his family. I have often spoken about the destructive power of judging and condemning others and advised people to use their beliefs to improve themselves and help others instead.
To the reader of this article, this is a true story of my life and one lesson you must hold; a man is who he chooses to become. Resilience and respect for oneself counters discrimination. Regardless of the situation, you can always change it. Yes, we can.
Brian is a born chronicler and a social change activist who embraces learning and empowering innovative social development change worldwide. Brian hails from Kisumu, Kenya.
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Next week. A new chapter in this month's series, Beyond Societal Norms.
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