In the heart of Gitithia village, there was an unspoken truth that every old villager knew but few dared to confront. The village was a place where traditions were held firm, where the past clung to the present like a shadow. But beneath the surface of everyday village life, a spiritual war was waged, one that had shackled the minds and futures of its people.
This war was not fought with swords or spears, but with something far more insidious: the legacy of the village forefathers. Unlike the Maasai, whose struggle with Christianity was rooted in a deliberate rejection, the people of Gitithia faced a different kind of battle—a battle against their own blood, against the very spirit of their ancestors.
Long ago, during the time of colonialism, education was a foreign concept to the villagers’ ancestors. The colonists, eager to impose their ways, had built schools like the famed Mambere School, where young Kenyatta (Kenyatta was an agemate to majority of Gitithia village pioneers) and others of his generation began their journey toward a new world. But the village forefathers’ parents did not see the value of this strange new practice. To them, education was a white man's trick, a threat to their known and verified way of life. And so, they kept their children at home, pulling them from the classrooms, insisting that grazing cattle and digging in the fields were the true paths to survival.
Among those children were the Gitithia village pioneers of potential scholars. Some had seen the inside of a classroom, had touched the smooth pages of old textbooks, had even begun to learn the strange letters and numbers that promised a future beyond the fields orally. But their parents did not understand. They saw the education as a betrayal of their traditions, a step too far into the unknown destination. And so, they brought their children back, binding them to the land, to the old ways. In time, these children, who became Gitithia village pioneers, underwent ndahikio, sealing their fate away from the world of books.
The ancestors thought they were protecting their children, now our village forefathers, preserving their heritage. But in truth, they were casting a long, dark shadow over the future. The decision to reject education did not die with that generation; it lingered, becoming a curse that haunts every child born in their lineage.
Decades passed, and the world around changed. Kenya gained independence, Gitithia village came to be, and education became the key to success, to prosperity. The village forefathers could not get a place in the new world due to lack of education. Gitithia became an isolated village. It lagged behind, its people trapped in a cycle of ignorance that no amount of money or opportunity could break.
For the poor, the curse manifested in the form of unrelenting poverty. Their children were bright, eager to learn, but they lacked the means to pursue their dreams. School fees were a constant struggle, and even when they managed to scrape together the money, something always seemed to go wrong. Each time, something pulled them back, keeping them from escaping the chains of their ancestors.
The rich, on the other hand, had the opposite problem. They had the money, the resources, the connections to send their children to the best schools. But their children lacked the drive, the passion for learning. They grew up surrounded by comfort, but the spirit of education eluded them. No matter how much their parents pushed, they simply did not care. They had inherited the curse, the deep-seated belief that education was not their path.
And so, up to date, the village remains in limbo, its people caught between the past and the future, unable to break free from the iron chains that bounds them. The burden now lay not on the village as a whole, but on the individual learners, the few who dares to dream of something more. But who can guide them? Who can help them see that the problem has not been in the schools, the teachers, or the systems, but in their very blood?
This remains to be the true battle of Gitithia—a battle to break the curse, to overcome the spiritual war that has held the villagers back for so long. It is a war that cannot be won with prayers or sacrifices, but with knowledge, with understanding, with pain, with tears and hard work. But, the villagers continue with their normal lives, unaware of the chains that still yoke them. But somewhere, deep within the hearts of the young, a new fire is beginning to burn. A fire that, one day, might just be strong enough to melt the chains of the past and give the village academic freedom.
This war was not fought with swords or spears, but with something far more insidious: the legacy of the village forefathers. Unlike the Maasai, whose struggle with Christianity was rooted in a deliberate rejection, the people of Gitithia faced a different kind of battle—a battle against their own blood, against the very spirit of their ancestors.
Long ago, during the time of colonialism, education was a foreign concept to the villagers’ ancestors. The colonists, eager to impose their ways, had built schools like the famed Mambere School, where young Kenyatta (Kenyatta was an agemate to majority of Gitithia village pioneers) and others of his generation began their journey toward a new world. But the village forefathers’ parents did not see the value of this strange new practice. To them, education was a white man's trick, a threat to their known and verified way of life. And so, they kept their children at home, pulling them from the classrooms, insisting that grazing cattle and digging in the fields were the true paths to survival.
Among those children were the Gitithia village pioneers of potential scholars. Some had seen the inside of a classroom, had touched the smooth pages of old textbooks, had even begun to learn the strange letters and numbers that promised a future beyond the fields orally. But their parents did not understand. They saw the education as a betrayal of their traditions, a step too far into the unknown destination. And so, they brought their children back, binding them to the land, to the old ways. In time, these children, who became Gitithia village pioneers, underwent ndahikio, sealing their fate away from the world of books.
The ancestors thought they were protecting their children, now our village forefathers, preserving their heritage. But in truth, they were casting a long, dark shadow over the future. The decision to reject education did not die with that generation; it lingered, becoming a curse that haunts every child born in their lineage.
Decades passed, and the world around changed. Kenya gained independence, Gitithia village came to be, and education became the key to success, to prosperity. The village forefathers could not get a place in the new world due to lack of education. Gitithia became an isolated village. It lagged behind, its people trapped in a cycle of ignorance that no amount of money or opportunity could break.
For the poor, the curse manifested in the form of unrelenting poverty. Their children were bright, eager to learn, but they lacked the means to pursue their dreams. School fees were a constant struggle, and even when they managed to scrape together the money, something always seemed to go wrong. Each time, something pulled them back, keeping them from escaping the chains of their ancestors.
The rich, on the other hand, had the opposite problem. They had the money, the resources, the connections to send their children to the best schools. But their children lacked the drive, the passion for learning. They grew up surrounded by comfort, but the spirit of education eluded them. No matter how much their parents pushed, they simply did not care. They had inherited the curse, the deep-seated belief that education was not their path.
And so, up to date, the village remains in limbo, its people caught between the past and the future, unable to break free from the iron chains that bounds them. The burden now lay not on the village as a whole, but on the individual learners, the few who dares to dream of something more. But who can guide them? Who can help them see that the problem has not been in the schools, the teachers, or the systems, but in their very blood?
This remains to be the true battle of Gitithia—a battle to break the curse, to overcome the spiritual war that has held the villagers back for so long. It is a war that cannot be won with prayers or sacrifices, but with knowledge, with understanding, with pain, with tears and hard work. But, the villagers continue with their normal lives, unaware of the chains that still yoke them. But somewhere, deep within the hearts of the young, a new fire is beginning to burn. A fire that, one day, might just be strong enough to melt the chains of the past and give the village academic freedom.
