Ruth

Pat Colby

Shortly after my appointment to Machakos African Girls’ School in Kenya, the headmistress informed me that three Kikuyu girls in the Form 3 to which I had been assigned had bad reputations.  Whether these reputations had evolved during their earlier days at the school or had traveled with them upon acceptance into the high school, I do not know.  Of the three, Ruth Muwara, was particularly secretive and untrustworthy.  In the weeks and months that followed, I became very close to the Form 3 girls as we interpreted the works of  H.G. Wells, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Oliver Goldsmith and Shakespeare.  We examined the complexities of English grammar, wrote compositions and bonded during the evening prep hours and my visits to each dormitory on Friday nights. We shared the week-ends, when once a month, one of the teachers had to provide entertainment by way of guest speakers, film or group activities.

Ruth and her two friends were initially reserved and shy, but as time passed, I found in Ruth a quiet kind of leadership and intellectual curiosity. I saw qualities of behavior that did not match her “bad reputation.”  It is true: she was less outgoing than some of her classmates, but I saw they listened to her and admired her. 

At the end of the year, my girls would lead the school in the roles of prefects and head girl in Form 4.  The headmistress asked for recommendations and she accepted all my suggestions eagerly, except, the naming of Ruth Muwara as one of the prefects. By then, I knew Ruth well and believed strongly in her potential.  I argued passionately that she should be given a chance. She was put on the prefects list and I was elated.

A week later, the names of the new school leaders were announced.  In her reserved way, Ruth received the news in what must have been considerable surprise.  She knew how the headmistress had perceived her in the past.

That afternoon following the end of classes, I walked up the hill to my little house, the big jacaranda trees in glorious bloom on either side of the dirt road.  By degrees, I sensed someone was following me.  I looked back several times, and finally noted the flash of a red school uniform behind a jacaranda. Tired from a long day, I entered my little house and gratefully closed the door. Yet, I was curious about that uniformed figure.  I looked out the window so as not be seen and saw Ruth.  She was standing five yards from the house in full view.  She did not come to the door nor did she seem to want anything other than what she was doing-- making her presence known. Each time I peeked out the window, she was still there; standing, facing the house, paying a kind of tribute to its resident.  Minutes slipped by.  Intrigued, I watched as she remained in the same position, unmoving, for a long, long time. Then, as magically as she had appeared, she slipped away into tall grass and purple jacarandas.  To this day, it remains the sweetest thank-you I have ever received.