In Nandi culture, it was essential for the eldest son to be a top achiever. This cultivated sibling rivalry because everyone put in hard work so they could go all the way to university.
In 1991, after a successful performance at Kapsabet Boys, William Ruto qualified for admission to the University of Nairobi. The letter, which was collected from his school on a Friday evening, caused him to think a lot about Nairobi. Since he had never been to the city, he developed fantasies that it was a place with tall buildings and the wacky life he had seen in movies.
Before Ruto joined university, he moved from Kamagut to Eldoret to stay with a maternal uncle who was employed as a casual labourer. It is in this environment that he learned to be self-reliant. He started by hawking assorted items by the roadside, and after getting some capital, ventured into selling chicken at Kambi Kuku (literally Chicken Camp), where Nairobi-bound public service vehicles stopped for passengers to buy chicken for their loved ones in the cities and towns ahead. His day was filled with chicken cackling and crowing, running up and down chasing after buses and trying to interest passengers in buying his and not the next vendor’s birds.
Their market was a makeshift one and built around the speed bumps on the Eldoret-Malaba road. Ruto never shies from talking about his humble beginnings and credits his rise to God and sheer hard work. In his free time, he would share his inspirational stories with his chicken-selling mates, who were mesmerised by a humble university student who sold chicken by the roadside. Numerous small towns and workers’ camps were once scattered along the road that stretches from Eldoret to Nairobi.
The workers were in the hustle and bustle of fending for their families. In the dust bowl, economic depression left many unemployed or earning very little. Few automobiles would pass by and help bring down the high unemployment rate. Kambi Kuku was situated among several bus stations that had temporary stop points, which leveraged the business boom. When the rain came, they braced for it. It was survival of the fittest. Ruto braved the scorching sun to sell chicken to motorists at the railway crossing point as a student.
He would sell a bird for between Sh11 and Sh13 to truck drivers hauling cargo to Uganda and beyond. On a good day, he would sell between 20 to 25 chickens, and when the going was tough, he would go back home with his chicken and go to bed hungry. This not only toughened him but also reminded him that it had been this way from his early school days. He remembered how he used to walk long distances to school, knocking his toes on rocks and ending up with bloody toenails. He knew it was a matter of time before he turned the corner.
UNIVERSITY STUDENT
Ruto counted Sh300 and a few coins he had saved from his chicken sales and marched onto a platform to meet the future he had always longed for. He was in his early 20s and knew the whole world lay before him. He was six feet tall, dressed in blue jeans, a long discreetly striped blue shirt he bought in the nearby market, a red-striped tie given out by a local political party, and socks and lace-up shoes bought from a Luo neighbour who made shoes.
He knew all eyes were on him. He knew, in the judgment of his Kamagut community, he had already become somebody. It was 8 o’clock on one of those cool bright mornings in his village, with a strident blue and white sky promising rainfall in the near future for the wheat and maize farmers. The flowers in the hills were turning green and making the mountains look antique.
At the station, desperately important loudspeaker announcements about tickets and passes alerted him to the fact that he was leaving behind the life of the countryside and starting a new life in a new direction.
Ruto was joining the University of Nairobi. He knew cigarette smoking was bad and drinking alcohol was attracting the devil’s soul in your body. He memorised chapters of the Bible and read about King Solomon and his love stories, and Abraham and his wisdom. His paternal uncle Kip, who had come to meet him at the bus station, was a salesman in a small stationery shop owned by Indians along Tom Mboya Street. Kip had a room in Kangemi, most of whose tenants were predominantly Abaluyia and Luo people from Ugenya, who lived side by side or facing each other in four-walled cubicles for which they paid a monthly rent of Sh300. From his monthly pay of Sh3,000, Kip paid for his rent and his evening classes in religion and theology. He spent the rest on food.
Ruto came into contact with culture shock on his way to his uncle’s house. His rubber shoes were starting to make his torso uncomfortable as the suitcase scratched his knees every time he made a stride alongside his uncle and stopped when he did to greet people Ruto guessed were his acquaintances. He shook their hands discreetly and exchanged formal greetings and laughed and giggled. Kip was a traditionalist whose behaviour was anchored on culture and religious education. As he walked past his nephew he could see that he was not well and the long journey frightened him. He was tired, weary and longed to eat the mandazi in the roadside kiosks, but he was sure the budget would not accommodate his craving. He had only had tea at midday to save some money to be used later at college.
“Ruto,” Kip called and continued, “We must hurry. I am going back to town before 1pm and I shall take you to the university on Friday at 8am. I will show you the city.”
He was ashamed of telling him that he must go back to work sooner to avoid disagreement with his Indian boss, who was time-conscious and hated laziness. He sometimes made sarcastic jokes about Kip feigning sickness so he could go back home and “walk with girls”. He was against the idea of youngsters marrying early.
Ruto replied, “Yes uncle.”
Later during admission, Kip called out, “Ruto, what is your course? Botany in science?”
“No, it is theology!” he replied.
Hurriedly going through his letter, he realised botany in science was indeed his course. Unbelievable. He had all along believed he was going to study theology and had bought a Bible. His admission completed, he headed to the Halls of Residence to start a new chapter in his life as a student of the University of Nairobi. BY THE STAR