Mwalimu Mkuu

I loved my headmaster.

I don't know how many of you RPCVs out there would have a similar reaction, but my headmaster, Hussein Soud El-Maawi, was one cool customer. That's him in the middle of the above photo, taken along with the school's prefects during the end of my second year at Lamu.

He wasn't "cool" in the sense of being hip or happening, but he was a sturdy little man of principle, honest as the day was long, and I respected the hell out of him. Hussein ran Lamu Boys High School with an even hand, seldom flying off the handle when things would get crazy (and they did). I was always impressed with how he would resolve crises that would arise with a calm, reasoned demeanor.

I say all that and then I remember the time a bunch of APs descended on the campus and started beating students after a handful of them were caught dancing outside their Saturday night disco. The prefects on duty that night had roused me at my house first and I got to the compound in time to find askaris heaving rocks at students who had taken up refuge on the roof of one of the dormitories. I attempted to intervene, succeeding only in getting them to stop throwing rocks. But they were pretty loaded and started shoving me around, asking what business it was of an mzungu to interfere with their "punishment" of the students. I argued with them in my rudimentary Swahili for a few minutes but it quickly became apparent they weren't going to heed the protestations of a panicky white guy they outnumbered 6 to 1.

Fortunately, the calvary arrived in the form of Mwalimu Hussein, still in his night clothes and sandals. The guy was only about 5-foot-6 and 150 pounds, but he laid into them like a cyclone, barking in Swahili and calling them a bunch of wajinga kabisa. They immediately backed down and eventually agreed to leave the compound, after which I and the prefects spent another couple of hours rounding up all the younger students who had run off into the bush to escape the APs' wrath. Trust me — that was truly an awe-inspiring event.

Hussein could be entertaining, too, often in unintentional ways. Like the time he discovered the English word "mediocre" and then spent 15 minutes of one morning assembly defining it for the students and applying it to their educational pursuits. He also had a fondness for betel nuts, which would turn his crooked teeth a rich red. It was all I could do to keep from laughing when he would smile at me after having chewed that stuff.

Our school was mostly government-funded but about a third of the students were of the Harambee variety, many of whom were in financial arrears almost from the day they got there. But as far as I know, Hussein never sent any of them packing if they couldn't come up with the school fees. He just carried them along until that time when they might be able to come up with the shillingi. I don't know how he made ends meet sometimes, but he always did.

Sometime later, in the late 1990s, I read a fascinating National Geographic article about the Swahili culture in which Hussein offered some astute commentary as one of the island's elder statesman.

Anyway, I wanted something to blog about something, so I blogged about the coolest headmaster any PCV could ever have. I consider myself extremely lucky to have worked alongside such an honorable man.