by Geoffrey Kimutai
“My children, the most valuable thing I can offer you is an education.” – Sally Lilan
Growing up, we all heard the saying, “The roots of education are bitter, but its fruit is sweet.” Our fathers and tutors alike repeated it to us. However, in my experience, it hit differently when tutors shouted it at us in class. Supposedly, it was meant to be motivating, yet for many of us, it did not quite resonate at the time. It felt like a distant truth, something intangible. But as we climb the heights of education, we start to understand the truth in those words, appreciating their rhythm and depth.
On the eve of June 2, 2024, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. A sense of anticipation gripped me as I pondered, “Huu ni mwanzo mpya?” (Is this a new beginning?), while another thought echoed, “What will become of me after August 31?” These questions marked the threshold of a life-changing privilege. They were not just idle musings; they were the stirrings of a journey about to begin. With these thoughts swirling, I carefully selected my attire for Monday, ensuring it embodied both the professionalism and aspirations I held. I arrived at the British Institute in Eastern Africa (BIEA) by 7:50 AM, hoping the experience would be as enriching as I imagined.
“Welcome to the BIEA. This is a safe space for everyone, and by being here, you understand the mandate of our institute, which is knowledge enhancement and social networking,” said the director, Dr. Gitu, as he welcomed us. His words were reassuring yet charged with the gravity of what lay ahead that chilly morning and the next three months.
As someone whose background is deeply rooted in policy formulation and the philosophies that govern our world, I had assumed that my days at BIEA would be spent in an office, filling my mind with endless papers and theoretical musings. However, I was met with a surprise—a pleasant one at that. The tasks I encountered ranged from curating exhibitions to sorting through ancient and contemporary maps—tasks that recalled the words of Mr. Omurwa: “Education is not just what you learn in class but how you use what you’ve learned” (2023). As we worked on the maps, we could not help but discuss the different occurrences through history in fields like archaeology and the partitioning of Africa. In addition to the cataloguing and archiving skills acquired through this transformative experience, the various tasks impressed upon me the wide range of activities involved in academic research.
Days turned into weeks, and as I reflected on my experiences, one word kept surfacing: Adventure.
“The biggest adventure you can ever take is to live the life of your dreams.” – Oprah Winfrey
Indeed, each day at the BIEA felt like a page from a novel I had always wanted to write. My days were filled with encounters that went beyond the ordinary—meeting with peers, scholars, scientists, professors, and authors. Individuals I affectionately refer to as “Bigwigs.” These interactions were not just professional; they were profoundly personal. The experiences they shared, their stories of commitment and passion, ignited a fire in my soul. I felt a hunger for more, a desire to delve deeper into this scholarly escapade. They did not just scale up my sight but also my site—a term often used in archaeology to signify both a place of discovery and the process of it. For instance, Dr. Lugano’s input in consolidating my research proposal was profound. I had an idea that was “too broad.” Through his reviews and advice, I managed to narrow down the scope of study and eventually came up with a draft.
The ambiance at BIEA was intellectually stimulating, nurturing my curiosity in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The corridors buzzed with discussions on topics ranging from the ancient to the contemporary, creating an environment that was both challenging and invigorating. Every interaction, whether with peers or mentors, added a new dimension to my understanding. These were not just exchanges of ideas; they were moments that pushed me to think critically, to question assumptions, and to explore the deeper meanings behind the knowledge I was acquiring.
These events were accompanied by wise sayings like, “Atafutaye hachoki na akichoka kashapata” (One who seeks does not tire, and when they tire, they have found what they were looking for) and “Muchumia juani hulia kivulini” (One who toils under the sun eats in the shade). These phrases were more than just words; they were sparks igniting my drive to step out of my comfort zone and embrace the challenges ahead. They encouraged me to explore uncharted territories, finding a niche that would anchor my career. The search for knowledge became a pursuit, not just for answers, but for deeper understanding and personal growth.
Not everything was smooth sailing, of course. Some ventures proved more challenging than others, and while I found certain tasks easier, the most important takeaway was the learning process. For instance, mastering the format of a research paper was a new concept that required diligence and attention to detail. The nuances of proper presentation and interpersonal relations became invaluable as I navigated the corridors of academia. These lessons in “Konections” (Connections) were not just professional; they were deeply personal, forging bonds that extended beyond the confines of the institute. For example, the simplicity carved from Cece’s curiosity about alternative music or Cindy’s love for Rhumba contrasted with the complexities of studying bones with Mary. I found it easy to refer to her as “Orthopaedic” as she guided me through the intricate world of osteology.
Each day was an opportunity to deepen these connections, both with the material I was studying and the people I was engaging with. The personal growth I experienced was just as significant as the academic knowledge I gained. I learned to appreciate the importance of community in scholarship—the way our individual pursuits are enriched by collaboration and shared insights. The relationships I built during this time were not just fleeting interactions; they were the foundation of a network that I knew would support me throughout my career. Pamoja always said I am a humanitarian by nature. This, perhaps, along with the understanding I’ve developed during my coursework, is probably what made me focus on the policy and political aspects that influence refugee socio-economic involvement in Kenya.
As I journeyed through this newfound romance with scholarly ambition, I realized that education is not a destination but a continuous process—a relationship that evolves and deepens with time. The BIEA became more than just a place of learning; it became home, a crucible of growth, where my passions were refined, and my ambitions crystallized.
Every day was a testament to the transformative power of knowledge, and as August 31 approached, I no longer wondered what would become of me. Instead, I knew that this journey was just the beginning—a prologue to a much larger story, one that I would continue to write with every new discovery, every new connection, and every new adventure. Of profound achievement was getting to refine my writing skills, working with Dr. Kioko and Dr. Mbugua on several projects, and gaining practical knowledge of geographic information systems taught by Mr. Kanyingi.
The experiences at BIEA have instilled in me a deep appreciation for the role that intellectual exploration plays in shaping not just our careers but our very identities. As I look to the future, I am filled with a sense of purpose, knowing that the lessons I’ve learned here will guide me in the many journeys that lie ahead. This is not just a chapter in my life; it is the foundation upon which I will build all that is to come.
