Musings of a reluctant writer

The introduction was very dramatic. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. He just appeared one early January morning, unannounced like a flash flood in the dreaded Suguta Valley. He was tall, dark, and slightly built. He entered the classroom, took a piece of chalk, and scribbled something on the blackboard - WESKOS .  Without uttering a word, he then proceeded to write some questions on the board, gave us 20 minutes to answer, marked them, and started the drill. The drill was, for every question failed, you get two strokes of the cane. He then left the classroom one hour later leaving us bewildered rubbing our aching buttocks and wondering who the hell is this guy. Just like that.  We had just joined class eight. Life was good. We were naughty boys living the times of our lives. Simple, nice life full of abundance or so we thought. Not until he happened, and our lives would change forever. Our days were spread between herding cows, swimming in the river, o...