A few years ago, I was added to a new WhatsApp group. It was called Kilimambogo TTC Alumni. Being a proud former student of Kilimambogo TTC, I knew what Kilimambogo meant, and I certainly knew what TTC stood for.

It was the last word that defeated me. What on earth was an alumnus? I had to consult the dictionary, which informed me that it simply meant former students. I wondered why educated people insist on making simple things complicated.

The group was full of my former classmates. Some I remembered instantly. Others had changed so much that I was convinced they had accidentally joined the wrong WhatsApp group. Like every respectable WhatsApp group, ours quickly became the headquarters of jokes, football banter, political debates, inspirational messages, tribal jokes, teaching materials, breaking news and, as I would later learn, something called memes. I was never among those who posted. I was what experts call a silent observer.

In Mwisho wa Lami, we simply call such people spies. Every WhatsApp group has its own characters. Some post every five minutes, those who comment on everything, those who communicate entirely through stickers and emojis, and those like me who quietly consume the content while pretending to be busy.

Although I rarely contributed, the group became very important to me. It was my primary source of jokes, breaking news and funny videos, which I would immediately forward to my family groups and the Mwisho wa Lami WhatsApp groups. Soon the villagers considered me the most informed, connected and exposed person in Mwisho wa Lami and its environs. In fact, unless I posted a breaking story myself, many people in Mwisho wa Lami doubted whether it had really happened.

Read: Why I am hiding from Mwisho wa Lami this Christmas

Then came the 2022 General Election. Suddenly the group became hotter than a sufuria of githeri left unattended over a jiko. Political opinions flew in every direction. Some classmates were contesting for elective seats. One wanted to become Woman Representative, another Senator, several were eyeing parliamentary seats, while quite a number were seeking MCA positions. Others were busy campaigning for them with the passion of people spending someone else's money.

Apart from politics, the group also became a window into how differently life had treated all of us. One classmate proudly displayed onions, tomatoes and watermelons harvested from his huge farm. Another sold houses and plots. One owned a thriving hardware shop in Kirinyaga. Another ran a successful transport company and never missed an opportunity to ask whether anyone had goods that needed moving. Others posted beautiful homes in Nairobi, Kisumu and Machakos. There were family holidays in Mombasa, Dubai and even the United States. Expensive cars. Designer clothes. Happy family portraits.

Green Kaunda suits

Then there was yours truly. With only green Kaunda suits, my greatest business achievement at the time was ensuring that I never accumulated a debt at Hitler's Place. My biggest holiday plan was hoping that, once every three months, I could afford a weekend at Cosmos Bar and rest. And not on credit. After the elections, the political temperatures cooled. That is when the wiser heads in the group asked a simple question:

"Instead of arguing every day, what can we actually do for our alma mater?" I had to consult the dictionary again to confirm that alma mater also meant the school we had attended. The discussion quickly gathered momentum. Could we organise a reunion? Could we support needy students? Could we renovate the college? After initial sessions on Zoom, a few of which I attended, the first physical get-together was held in Nairobi in April 2023. I missed it, unsure whether it would amount to anything. But the photos that were shared made me regret not attending. At the session, they agreed to register an association.

The alumni elected officials mobilised resources and started delivering real projects. We helped build a dormitory, painted sections of the college, planted trees and raised funds for various development activities. It amazed me how former students working in different organisations willingly came together to support the institution that had shaped them. There was a senior Ministry of Education official who got us access to grants and donations, another one working for a paint company who got us paint, and another one at a big company who helped with other resources. My only contribution was clapping for volunteers and liking the photos on the group.

The group became too big, and regional chapters soon emerged. The western one, which I was a member of, was very strong. Their first get-together was last year in April. I missed it, and regretted missing it. In the photos, I saw Linnet, who was my Kilimambogo TTC second-year girlfriend, and whom I had not seen since we left TTC. I started commenting on the groups, and became active and looked forward to the next meeting. Last December I attended the Western Kenya chapter meeting in Kakamega. It was wonderful meeting old classmates, people who had been at Kilimambogo long before I arrived and others who joined after I had left.

The greatest surprise was discovering that some teachers I know also attended Kilimambogo, including Kuya and Lena, her terrible hair in tow. Then there was Linnet; she still looked beautiful, and she was very excited to see me, hugging me so tightly. She smelled so nice.

“Where have you been?” she asked. I told her I was now a Senior Head of Institutions.

Sleek red car

“That’s so cool. I haven’t been so lucky with TSC, but life goes on,” she said. I was happy she was doing a lower job than I, we could connect and go somewhere. No one knows where

“We need to catch up soon,” she said, as she announced she was leaving. I also decided to leave, and we walked away together. To my shock, she had come with a sleek red car. I couldn’t go to take my motorcycle. I watched as she drove off, confidently and smoothly, like someone who is used to that soft life. Since she was active in the alumni group, I also got active as a way of being close to her. She proposed my name, and I got elected as the deputy secretary general of the entire alumni and western region coordinator. It was not a small post.

The Western chapter became active. We started Kili Western SACCO, a simple savings scheme that has grown into a meaningful financial support system for members. We also sponsor the education of needy students from Western Kenya who are studying at St. John's Teachers Training College, the new name of Kilimambogo TTC. As I became more involved, my wife Fiolina began asking uncomfortable questions.

"You spend so much time helping Kilimambogo," she observed. "What about your own school? Doesn’t Mwisho wa Lami have former students too? Why can't you organise them the way you're helping your college?"

That question refused to leave my mind.

And so, in April this year, I quietly began laying the foundation for what I hope will become the Mwisho wa Lami Alumni Association. If former students could transform Kilimambogo, why couldn't former pupils transform Mwisho wa Lami? Why couldn't we mentor our children, support bright but needy students, improve our school and strengthen our community? It hasn’t been a simple journey. Join me next week as I share with you how the journey has been. And who knows, I could also tell you about the two meetings I had with Linnet, my Kilimabogo TTC second-year girlfriend. Now a fine, fine woman!

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