“When I grow up, I want to be a nurse,” she pipes.
She is small, her face is fleshy and round, with the right amount of Vaseline to get you through Wednesday: EXCESS Vaseline. Let’s give her a name. One of those humble ones with a firm, sturdy base in biblical teaching. Ruth, famous for that line in her monologue, “where you go I will go, your people shall be my people and your God, my God.” Nothing gets more humble than that.
“When I grow up, I want to be an air hostess.”
That’s Ruth’s desk mate, you guessed it, Sarah. Sarah like the mother of Isaac. A.K.A Sarah the wife to Abraham who gave birth at ninety. So Ruth and Sarah. Chum buddies, they share sharpeners and pencils, and they both have a crush on the Class 5 class prefect. They also happened to stumble upon Truphena.
Truphena was a lot of things. Quite a handful that one. However, for the sake of Ruth and Sarah, let us narrow it down to two; she was a nurse and an air hostess. She is the pure embodiment of Ruth and Sarah’s dreams, in one.
Truphena was the lamp unto the young ladies’ feet all through class four. She was Florence Nightingale, walking along the corridors with her lamp in her hand, going from patient to patient and Ruth could have sworn she could feel Truphena’s aura around her as she slept, in her room, in her parents’ house, a house built through months and years of self-sacrifice.
Truphena went quiet one fine morning. In her place? I don’t know. She never consulted me, neither did she consult Ruth nor did she consult Sarah, she just left. Or did the ladies kick her out perhaps? To make room for their growing wardrobes, more delicate for the top half and the bottom half.
Truphena was replaced with How To Keep Him Wanting More and How To Know He Wants You. Truphena was no longer missed. Truphena was a shadow, a past that doesn’t seem all that important to recall, so she was left to her own devices. At times I wonder if she is the one who does all the filing of ‘How To’s and ‘How Not To’s.
Truphena was just a nurse, she was just an air hostess. Why wasn’t she interested in Agro-business? Truphena, The Poultry Queen. Why wasn’t Truphena a dressmaker? Truphena, The Stylist to the Stars. Why wasn’t Truphena a poet, a painter, a chef? I will tell you why. Because Truphena fitted a certain type only.
Truphena can be anything you want her to be. Miss Turu, The Roysambu Slayqueen perhaps?