When I was a Mono (as form ones were passionately called in my time) I was anything but a theater enthusiast. I was perfectly content with my low-profile existence until the fateful day our English teacher, Mr. Euticus, decided I needed to "expand my horizons." Against my will, he signed me up for the drama club’s upcoming play, ‘In the Footprints of Mwangeka’. I was cast as Mwazange, the traditional healer.
I tried to protest, but Mr. Euticus would have none of it. “It will be good for you,” he said reassuringly. “You have potential!” With no escape in sight, I reluctantly joined the drama club.
Rehearsals were a blur of confusion. While others were passionate about acting, I was just trying to remember my lines and avoid tripping over the stage props. The closer drama night got, the more nervous I became.
Finally, the big night arrived. As the curtain rose and the spotlight hit me, my mind went completely blank. The sea of faces in the audience turned into a terrifying blur. My co-star, Agapt, playing the ancestor, whispered my first line to me, but it was too late. I’d frozen like a deer in headlights.
After an agonizingly long pause, I blurted out, “Um...so, uh...nice weather we’re having my friends?” The audience erupted in laughter, thinking it was part of the play. But inside, I was mortified. My confidence plummeted as I fumbled through the rest of the scenes, forgetting lines, missing cues, and generally making a mess of my performance.
After the disaster on the stage, I left through the nearest window and vowed never to act again. I avoided the drama club like the plague, and any mention of the play convinced me that I was not cut out for the stage. Weeks passed, and I retreated further into my shell.
One afternoon, while avoiding my usual hangouts, I passed by the school gymnasium. I heard a series of sharp, rhythmic shouts followed by the sound of feet hitting the mats. Curiosity piqued, and I peeked through the open door.
Inside, a group of students dressed in white martial arts uniforms were practicing Karate. Their movements were synchronized and precise, each kick and punch delivered with focus and power. Their trainer, a teacher by the name of Mr. Wamoto, walked among them, correcting stances and offering praise.
I stood there, mesmerized, until one of the students, noticing my interest, called out to me. "Hey, want to join us? We're always open to new members!"
Caught off guard but intrigued, I hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. Why not, I said to myself, this was different from acting. There were no lines to remember, no spotlight to freeze under.
Mr. Wamoto welcomed me and handed me a spare uniform. "You can start with the basics today. Just follow along."
My first lesson was a whirlwind. The other students made the moves look effortless, but I quickly discovered that Karate was anything but easy. The warm-up exercises alone left me winded, and when it came time to learn basic punches and kicks, I felt like a fish out of water. My punches lacked precision, and my kicks were more like awkward leg flails. During sparring practice, I found it challenging to maintain my balance and timing. More than once, I ended up on the mat, a little bruised but not defeated.
Gradually, I noticed improvement. My punches became more accurate, my kicks higher and more controlled. Mr. Wamoto and other students started to notice too, offering nods of approval and encouragement.
One day, during a demonstration, Mr. Wamoto asked me to perform a kata, a series of movements that simulated a fight against multiple opponents. Nervously, I stepped forward, but as I moved through the kata, I felt a sense of flow and confidence. The struggles and countless hours of practice were paying off.
By the end of the demonstration, I was breathing hard but smiling. Mr. Wamoto clapped me on the shoulder. "You've come a long way. Keep it up”, he said.
As I left the gym that day, I realized that stumbling upon that Karate practice had been a turning point. The journey had been tough, filled with struggles and setbacks, but it had also been incredibly rewarding. I had found a new passion, one that taught me resilience, focus, and confidence in myself.
From that day on, I walked the school halls with a newfound sense of confidence. I even visited the drama club once in a while, sharing my story and encouraging others to find their own path to overcoming fear. Mr. Euticus was right after all—I did have potential, just in a way neither of you had expected.
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