INTRODUCTION

Boarding school. For some, the words evoke nostalgia, camaraderie, and discipline. For others, myself included, they trigger memories we’d rather forget. In Kenya, boarding schools are often seen as a rite of passage, a way to toughen children and instill independence. But behind this ideal lies another reality, one not often spoken about, yet lived by many.

Today, I want to share my story. Not to scare anyone, but to offer a genuine, firsthand account that may help parents make informed choices.

My First Day: Confused, Sad, and Alone

It was January 2015. I had just turned 12 a few months earlier. While some of my peers were thrilled about finally joining boarding school, I was heartbroken. My mum couldn’t take me on the first day, so my aunt who I wasn’t particularly close to stepped in. That made things even harder.

The culture shock was instant. Coming from Nairobi to a boarding school in the heart of Nandi County was like entering a different world. I went from enjoying daily rides home, talking to my parents anytime I wanted, to being confined to the school compound every day of the week. The only contact with home was through my class teacher’s phone if he even allowed it.

Discipline or Abuse?

My first attempt to speak up about something wrong in the school was met with merciless beatings. We called the whip “the black teacher” because it was black and, as we were told, it was there to “teach us a lesson.” That experience changed me. I went from being a bubbly, outspoken girl to timid and quiet. I wish that was the last time I was punished unfairly, but it was just the beginning.

Beatings came for all sorts of absurd reasons. Once, my entire class was beaten because someone coughed during a lesson. Another time, we were punished for being just a minute late to a 5:10 a.m. class. Our teacher was drunk and simply looking for someone to lash out at.

Living Conditions That Were Anything But Livable

The hygiene and living standards were equally terrible. For a school of over 1,000 students, we had only three toilets. No bathrooms. We shared cramped twin-sized beds, and there were days we went without bathing because there was no water.

The food situation was dire. Once, we were served ugali for breakfast yes, ugali and the scramble for it was so intense that some students got injured. That alone should give you a glimpse into how desperate the conditions were.

Why I Stayed

You might wonder: why didn’t I transfer?

Ironically, I was doing well academically. Maybe fear was my motivator, I studied hard so I wouldn’t attract unnecessary attention or punishment. By the time my parents realized how bad things were, I was in my final year. And I never really talked about my experiences during the holidays. I locked that part of my life away and chose not to think about it.

A Note to Parents

If you’re a parent considering enrolling your child in a boarding school, please do your due diligence. Visit the school. Ask to see where your child will sleep, eat, study, and bathe. Ask about past reports of bullying, abuse, or neglect. Talk to current students and parents. Don’t settle for marketing brochures or word-of-mouth alone.

Final Thoughts

I’m not completely against the idea of boarding schools. The concept, in theory, is great—structured environments that foster independence and focus. But finding a school that truly lives up to this ideal is the real challenge.

Until then, stories like mine are far too common. I share mine not to shame the system, but to encourage change and to ensure that no child has to suffer in silence the way I once did.