grapevine

Guillotine

The Guillotine

is a device designed for carrying out executions by decapitation. It consists of a tall upright frame in which a weighted and angled blade is raised to the top and suspended. The condemned person is secured at the bottom of the frame, with his or her neck held directly below the blade. The blade is then released, to fall swiftly and sever the head from the body. The device is best known for its use in France, in particular during the French Revolution, when it ‘became a part of popular culture’.

The blade was an axe head weighing 3.5 kg, attached to the bottom of a massive wooden block that slid up and down via grooves in the uprights. This device was mounted on a large square platform 1.25 metre (4 ft) high.

In France, before the  guillotine, members of the nobility were beheaded with a sword or axe, which typically took at least two blows to kill the condemned, while commoners were usually hanged, a form of death that could take minutes or longer. 

Since these traditional executions were notably gruesome, a French physician Joseph-Ignace Guillotin conceived and designed the           killer machine in an attempt to improve on accuracy and effectiveness. What followed were large-scale executions by guillotine. Hundreds could be killed in a day   in what was termed as the ‘reign of Terror’.                                                 

Nobility and commoners, intellectuals, politicians and prostitutes, were liable to be executed on little or no grounds. Suspicion of crimes was enough to earn one an appointment with "Madame Guillotine" or "The National Razor".

Even the inventor, Joseph Guillotin himself, got a taste of his own medicine when he was sentenced to death by guillotine.

His crime? - Guilty of inventing a killer machine that was too efficient.

For a time, executions by guillotine were a popular entertainment that attracted great crowds of spectators. Vendors would sell programs listing the names of those scheduled to die. Many people would come day after day and vie for the best locations from which to observe the drama.

In 1933, Adolf Hitler had a guillotine constructed and tested. He was impressed enough to order 20 more constructed and put into immediate service. National Socialist records indicate that between 1933 and 1945, 16,500 people were executed by guillotine in Germany and Austria.

MORRIS NGUGI

 What you do today means a lot for your tomorrow.

The guillotine history has lessons for us.
Our actions in the present are like seeds planted for future harvest.
Do good today as an investment for a better tomorrow.Do bad things today and your actions will follow you into your future.What you plant is what you harvest.The negative energy and passion that inspired
Mr Guillotin in the invention of a killer machine was evil. Human life is Divine and sacred. You can’t dispense with it at the whim of the moment.
Guillotin signed his death warrant the moment he invented the killer machine.
Those who live by the sword die by the sword!

I CAN'T BE DEAD!

The day of my death came like any other. It was on Jamuhuri day. The year was 2007. We were on December holiday. By then I was in form two, an ‘x-mono’. I recall asking my father to lend me his car keys as I wanted to visit my grandmother. He seemed absent minded as he just pointed the car keys for me. I grabbed them and ran to the garage. Before starting the engine, I noted to my surprise that my father had left a bottle of Retino beer on the seat. It must have been one of those nights. I opened it, drank a little and zoomed off leaving a cloud of dust in my wake.
I was feeling larger than life behind the wheel. The thought of the fun ahead pumped adrenaline through my veins. I had hardly gone far when I spotted a car ahead and immediately initiated a showdown. I flashed and horned madly at the driver to give way. As I accelerated to overtake on a sharp bend, things happened so fast and the last thing my brain recorded was the echo of a very loud crash.
I woke up from the terrible lethargy to find myself on the hospital bed. My clothes were soaked in blood as doctors and nurses frantically attended me like bees on a hive. I could not feel my body. It was too numb. I could not move my small toe. It was too heavy. I could not shed tears. My eyes were too dry.
Don’t place this sheet on me!
I can’t be dead!
I am just 17
A student at Koimbi
I have hardly enjoyed life
I can’t be dead!
I can see my casket
I can see my family
I can see my relatives
I can see my friends
Classmates!
Please
I beg you
Don’t bury me
I am not dead
I can see you
I can feel you
Do you hear me?
I have a whole life ahead of me
I am only 17 for heavens sake
I have dreams
Good dreams
Sweet dreams
I have only started practicing the latest dancing style
I have booked a movie next week at Neu metro
The world cup is just around the corner!
Don’t put me six feet under
Am just a kid!
Am on my knees.
‘Oh God, give me another chance. A last chance. I promise never to be blinded by the pleasures of this world. Let me live a good life God. Help me keep Satan at bay. Show me his snares. Am just 17.’
The following year, upon opening the school, I gave my life to Christ. He saved me from the darkness of the world and lighted a new horizon. It’s a new world with clear goals and vision founded on the wisdom of Jesus Christ.

Victor Kinuthia,

Four West

IN SEARCH OF GOLD.

I was woken up by hushed voices in the sitting room. I went straight to the door and listened carefully. “Why take the radio? It is too heavy,” someone said. We lived in a big house but my room was the closest to the sitting room. Consequently, I might have been the only one who heard the strange noises. My heart was pounding madly in the rib cage, my mouth was dry and I was confused.
I slowly opened the door and tip toed to the sitting room door.
The two burglars could be heard clearly. That is when I remembered we had an alarm but I could not activate it without attracting their attention. My parents were dead asleep. Dad was a heavy sleeper and mom usually wore earplugs. Suddenly I heard footsteps coming towards the sitting room door then the movement stopped and I heard one say, ‘Where are you going? Let’s take what we came for.’ I could tell they were only two. Suddenly, my eavesdropping was smashed by a harsh blow to the back of my head.
When I woke up, I realized I had been unconscious for about half an hour.
I had been tied firmly to a chair, I heard people talking but my mouth had been taped. The two men continued ransacking the sitting room at minimum noise. I did not know what they were looking for but they seemed very determined to find it.
My being tied up to the chair must have put my brain to work as I suddenly connected Kamaa, our houseboy, to the scheme unfolding in front of my eyes. I had suspicions about him from the first time he started working for us. His stern look, his late night outings and suspicious cell phone calls at ungodly hours always made me wonder.
“How could Kamaa be related to all this? How could he do something like this? Aha! It must be the watch!” My father had an old watch given to him a long time ago by an American tourist when he worked as a tour guide. He kept it as a souvenir. I was the only one who knew its value. My father never wore it for he was never one to like jewellery. He said that jewellery made him look artificial. He sometimes put it in the cupboard near the theatre system. The watch had a golden coating but that was a secret known only to me. Its market value was worth a fortune.
‘Kamaa must have found out!’ I thought. I had closed my eyes to follow my train of thought only to open them and find a pair of familiar gumboots planted in front of me. After a few seconds of shock, I looked up to meet the characteristic stern gaze of Kamaa. He didn’t say a word. He just stood vigil like a statue as his two accomplices ransacked the drawers of the wall unit.
Their frantic search was unceremoniously interrupted by sirens of police jeeps.
My father kicked the door open and swung into the house like a commando on special assignment. He firmly held a pistol in his outstretched hands. The police had simultaneously sneaked in through the back door and one could count six barrels of cold steel arrogantly pointed at the cornered thugs. Realizing that they stood no chance, they surrendered peacefully. The cold barrels of steel reluctantly went back to their holsters. As police peeled off the layers of ropes that had been used to harness me, it was ironical to see mom emerging from the bedroom wondering what the commotion was all about. Meanwhile, I anxiously waited for a moment with dad for I wanted to know how he had sneaked out and more important, where he learnt combat manoeuvres.
GEORGE KAMURE
TWO EAST

SUPER SUB

REFLECTIONS OF A “SUPER SUB”
It was that time of the year when the school calendar is loaded with sports. Days had literally flown and now hours were ticking away in a countdown to the D –Day. I was particularly glad that I was in the school team though not in the first eleven. In the previous years, I had warmed the substitute bench in all matches except on one occasion when I was called in the last ten minutes to replace the injured Christian.
Christian’s real name was James. If there was a person I loved to hate, it was Christian. He had a habit of looking down upon me; calling me a ‘perennial sub’ who had perfected the art of watching the game from the substitute desk.
I trained to my level best and religiously followed the workout schedule. My goal was to secure a position in the first eleven. I converted any negative word thrown at me by Christian to a force that fueled my motivation. During training, I worked extra hard and was glad that someone had noted my handwork. My coach urged me on and I surely didn’t want to lose his goodwill.
In one of the many training sessions, Christian was unfortunate to sprain in the ankle. The team doctor ruled him out of the next match in the championship. The ankle had to be given a week or so to heal. Meanwhile there was only one man to fill the vacuum - me!
The following day, our team traveled to the neighboring school which was hosting the tournament. On the way, I had to endure Christian whose foul mouth was still in form despite his injury. He reminded me to rise to occasion as the coach still had other options if I failed the team. Little did he know that anything he threw at me went into fueling my determination?
The field was full to capacity. Those who arrived late had to climb on top of trees. The odds of facing the host gnawed the team conscience. But all this mattered little to me. What mattered to me most was the opportunity to prove to the Christians of this world that I was good enough in the eyes of God who had endowed me with the football skills.
The game kicked off and soon enough, the ball fell on my path but I was quickly dispossessed and we conceded a goal. The worst thing that can happen to a team is to concede inside the first ten minutes, it shatters their morale as much as it emboldens their opponent. Worse still is to the player on whom fingers are pointed! I wished the earth could open and swallow me. I realized if I was to shrug off the Christian ghost, I had to stop the slip ups and put my act together. As the game went on and muscles steadied, I began placing accurate passes. This boosted my confidence. Soon a pinpoint pass was placed on my boot. As I positioned to hit a volley, images of Christian teasing crossed my mind. I hit the ball with such venom that it went flying towards the goalmouth like a rocket; only to hit the bar and rebound for an easy catch by the goalkeeper.
At half time, we gathered for team talk. The coach said that all departments were co-ordinating well but we needed to sharpen the attack. “No more blank shots!” he bellowed. Soon the second half was on. It wasn’t hard to restore the rhythm as our bodies and minds were psyched. We played an attacking game choreographed with sleek and deft passes. Our midfield supplied constant passes that tore through their defense like a knife on butter. I got the ball just outside the box and sent a thundering shot that deceptively seemed to go out but curled in just in time to shake the inside of their net. It was a score.
We were now drawing one goal to one and time wasn’t on our side. We continued to pile pressure on our opponents, playing deep into their half with a fanciful ball possession that made spectators to cheer wildly.
As luck would have it, I had the ball once more between my legs. I made a dummy move as if to shoot but softly passed the ball to my striking partner and continued surging forward to meet his deft one-touch with the side of my boot but the goalkeeper skillfully parried the shot for a corner that bore no fruits.
The game was in injury time when I collected the ball in our half, dodged my marker, left him for the dead and raced along the left flank with the backtracking defenders closing in on me. As I tactically ran diagonally with the ball close to my feet enticing them to commit a foul in the danger zone, I spotted the goalkeeper off his mark. With a God given instinct, I looped the ball like a guided missile over the defense and out of goalkeeper’s reach and joyfully watched it dip and bounce right inside the empty goalmouth. The referee pointed to the centre of the field as my teammates came flying all over me in celebration. At the final whistle, we were 2-1 up and I was declared “the man of the match”. As we acknowledged our fans with overhead claps, our coach tapped my shoulder saying, “Your loop has been selected as one of the goals of this championship.” I was beside myself with joy, needing no more assurance that I was squarely in the first team. James was also hurriedly limping towards me. For the first time, I expected a kind word.

Waweru Kariuki,
Four East

2010 AND BEYOND.

NEW YEAR MESSAGE FROM THE SCHOOL CAPTAIN

My fellow students,

New Year greetings to you all.
Just as the New Year gives us opportunity to make resolutions and adjust our attitude for the better, so does a new school.
Or have you forgotten that we have a new school in the name of Koimbi Boys?
This newness gives us a unique opportunity to look at ourselves long and hard and ask ourselves several questions:
Can we turn a new leaf on matters education and discipline?
Can we set our goals higher?
Can we join the premier league?
Can we let the so-called big schools know that we are one of them?
To all the above, the answer is one: YES WE CAN!
Fellow students, I can’t think of a better opportunity to open our wings and sail in this wind of change.
We must be the pillars that people will one day look and say,
“This is where Koimbi Boys started soaring to Greatness!”
As you know, it is through effective communication that we boost cohesiveness and integration of the different diversities and background that we come from. We are all equal here at school and therefore it is my plea that we work together to achieve the ideal inscribed in our school motto- “Tutashida”.
This success can only come about when we join hands, heads and everything else and work as a team.
Friends, it is high time we adopt values and treasure them because this is our only unique ability after common sense.
I would also like to remind you about Honesty. This is a virtue that has survived the test of time.
So fellow students, let us be honest to one another and mind each other’s welfare like brothers.
As 2010 rolls by, let us all be all ears and all eyes to tap the worthy opportunities it brings.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL.

Wilson Macharia,
School Captain.