Kericho town woke up early this week to a pulsating rhythm of activity as parents and guardians poured into the central business district, navigating the narrow streets in a determined bid to prepare learners for the new academic term.
The long Christmas holiday had ended, but the cost of living had not eased, leaving families scrambling to balance limited budgets with the urgent need to ensure their children were ready for school.
From dawn, the town centre resembled a living mosaic. Learners in crisp shirts, skirts, shorts and sweaters of every colour imaginable – maroon, navy blue, green, grey and beige – moved in waves alongside their parents, their shoes clicking against the tarmac and market pavements.
The vibrant spectrum of school uniforms transformed the streets into a tableau of Kenyan education in miniature, each outfit telling the story of a different school and a family striving to meet its demands.
Inside the major bookshops and uniform outlets, the air buzzed with conversation, negotiation, and the occasional laughter of children excited to return to school.
At one bookshop, stacks of textbooks teetered on counters, while Beatrice Chepng’eno, a sales attendant, guided anxious parents through the shelves.
“The rush is heavier than last year,” she said, gesturing toward a queue snaking out of the shop.
“Parents are buying only what schools insist on for reporting. Some hope to come back for extras when they can afford them.”
Next door, Peter Langat, a uniform retailer, shuffled through rows of folded shirts and skirts, the scent of new fabric mingling with the faint aroma of morning tea from a nearby café.
“Cotton prices have gone up, transport is more expensive, and stock is running low,” he explained.
“Parents are feeling every shilling. Many buy what they can now and promise themselves they’ll return for the rest.”
Outside, parents negotiated prices with a mix of patience and frustration. Jane Chebet, a mother of two from Kabianga, juggled her youngest child on her hip while scanning uniforms for the right sizes.
“I have gone through three shops already,” she said. “I will buy one set now and try for the rest later. It is not easy, but school cannot wait.”
Daniel Kiprotich, escorting his son to a local boarding school, surveyed the bustling street with a weary but resolute expression.
“After December, money is tight, but education is non-negotiable,” he said, adjusting the straps of his son’s backpack. “You have to find a way.”
Some parents had turned to second-hand books or borrowed from friends to cope.
Mary Jepkosgei, carefully examining a used Revision Encyclopedia, admitted, “It is not perfect, but it fits and my child can report on time. That is what matters.”
Even the transport stages reflected the rush, with matatus and buses loaded with students and their luggage, engines rumbling as they prepared to leave town for boarding schools across the county.
Horns honked and conductors called out destinations as parents made last-minute arrangements, the streets vibrating with urgency and anticipation.
A brief survey by the Kenya News Agency revealed that despite the financial squeeze, Kericho parents remain determined to ensure learners start the term well-equipped, a testament to the enduring value placed on education even in challenging economic times.
By midday, the town centre was still humming with movement: shoppers carrying bags of books, parents balancing packages on their heads, and children peering over counters at colourful pencils and exercise books.
In every corner, the story was the same – families pushing through hardship, striving to give their children the simple but essential gift of education.
By Gilbert Mutai
