week plus I had to forfeit that month’s chance to go to town for 2 hours. My infraction? The other
Filipino kids and I got invited to the guest house by the Saberolas who were visiting from Tanzania
and in my excitement that I would get to eat rice, I referred to them as Uncle Ezing and Auntie
Henrietta. So my dean gave me the lecture that night. When I kept insisting that they were really my
Uncle and Auntie and that I had known them all my life, my dean only got angrier. And when I would
not recant anything, I got assigned to clean all the toilets in the dorm that week, be dorm-bound, and
miss 2 meals.
The third incident occurred in the middle of the school year when Uncle Jun Nebres (Paulino)
surprised us by showing up on campus. He said his plane was on a stop-over until the next day. He
offered to take all 7 of us Filipino kids out to dinner to a restaurant downtown. At that
pronouncement, all I could think of was “yay! We finally get to eat rice!” The principal granted us
permission to go out. We were all excited! Around 4:30PM Uncle Jun came to pick us up. We were
standing at the waiting area under the huge Jacaranda tree between the boys’ dorm and the girls’
dorm waiting for a taxi-van when my dean came to join us. She put her arm around my shoulder as
she sweetly informed Uncle Jun that I could not go because I was grounded. Together, she and I
watched as the group left. Grounded? Why? Ah, she had heard from a third party that I was calling
Uncle Jun Nebres “Uncle”.
Inside her living room, we sat facing each other. To demonstrate that she had all the time in the
world and was going nowhere until I admitted I was lying about all these Uncles and Aunties, she
changed into her pink bathroom slippers, pink robe, and pink hair curlers. Then she started her
lecture again about the evils of lying. She even tried to be sympathetic asking why I was claiming
these people to be my Uncles and Aunties. Did I have an unhappy childhood? Was I lonely? Why was I
lying about this one particular thing? What possible benefit could there be when these people may
visit Maxwell annually?
“Tick-tock. Tick-tock,” the ancient clocked ticked at the mantle. I had decided I would not get angry, I
would not cry in frustration, and I would not say anything further in this futile exercise. I was 14 and
teenage stubbornness was my superpower.
The dean placed a couple pens and some paper in front on me. She wanted me to draw my family
tree and show her where the Nebresses and Saberolas fit into the picture. I had already explained
previously the tight knit relationships of MVCians but she was not buying into that. So I shrugged and
simply sat there, willing to sit there the whole night if needed. She stared at me. I stared back at her.
Stalemate!
A few hours later, a knock at her front door interrupted our battle of wills. She got up to open the
door.
“I am sorry,” I heard her say firmly. “But I thought I already explained earlier today that Joy can’t go.”
“Ah… there must be some confusion.” I heard my dad’s voice say. Dad? Here in Kenya? How could
dad be in the opposite side of Africa? His territory is West Africa, what was he doing in East Africa? I
knew my sugar was low but surely that didn’t mean I would begin hallucinating? I only missed one
meal and my next meal would be on sundown the next day! Surely I was made of tougher stuff?
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