Bron.
http://www.nationmedia.com/dailynation/nmgcontententry.asp?category_id=39&newsid=106403
NEWS EXTRA
Boys’ bond that stuns parents and colleagues
Story by MICHAEL MUGWANG’A
Publication Date: 9/13/2007
It is difficult to understand what motivates him. What is obvious, however, is his determination to ensure his friend gets to school, plays and returns home.
http://www.nationmedia.com/dailynation/images/news/newsextra130907boys.jpg
Eleven-year- old Braise Chogo is carried by his friend Mutava Mutie at St Catherine Primary school in Mukuru, Nairobi.
Photo/STEPHEN MUDIARIThe self-effacing Mutava Mutie is a friend like no other. And Braise Chogo knows this than any other person.
The two are not blood relatives and their families are just slum acquaintances and neighbours.
But the friendship between the two boys, who are only a year apart in age, baffles the community and the school they attend.
Mutava’s father Moses Mutie says as long the boys like each other, everything is fine.
Amid protests
The youngsters are ever together. They go to school, one carrying the other. They eat together and attend the same class.
For two years now, Mutava has carried his friend to and from school, save for the odd occasions when Braise’s mother, Charity Wanjiru, has insisted on carrying him, amid protests from young Mutie.
Over lunch hour, the two sit together at the front corner of their classroom and chat as they enjoy their food. They look very happy together and it is hard to tell the difference.
Even when Braise is summoned to the headteacher’s office, Mutava quickly gets up, turns his back and Braise settles on it.
The trend is replayed each time they want to go anywhere.
And when they are playing their most preferred hide-and-seek game with other pupils, the two are treated as one. They hide and seek together. They call the game brikicho.
Mutie walks so comfortably with his friend as if he is carrying his own head, but he bears the weight of a friend almost his size.
Eleven-year-old Braise Chogo has a friend in Mutava that most people may never have in their lifetime. He has a friend closer than his own mother and sister.
Mutava, known by his peers as Moustafa, is 12 and both are in class five B at St Catherine Primary School in South B, Nairobi.
Braise is disabled and cannot walk or stand. He was born with a condition his mother describes as spinal bifida. He can hardly control his bowels but the brain is in perfect condition. Teachers at the school describe his performance as very good.
But Braise lives in Marigoini slums, about two kilometres from the day school he has been attending for the past two years. His friend has been there to see him to school and back.
Mutava wakes up at six and goes straight to Braise’s home, about 50 metres away. By that time, Braise’s mother has finished preparing him for school and off they go.
On some occasions, the mother helps to carry Braise to school but most of the time, Mutava would not let her.
“Mutava will always pass by to ensure that his friend is going to school, I have never witnessed such level of friendship and I just cannot thank Moustafa enough. His parents have been very supportive and I thank them too,” says Ms Wanjiru, a mother of two other children older than Braise.
At school, Mutie fetches Braise’s food before his.
At 4.10pm, school time is over and the two have to get back to their homes. Mutie dutifully picks his friend, puts him on his back and off they return to the village.
Mechanical problem
The two boys have internalised the routine such that it is almost natural. Mutava told the Nation that he has known Braise for more than five years and that he is just a friend.
“I do it for him because he is my friend, he keeps me company and he is fun to be with.”
Braise uses a wheelchair at school but currently it is not working due a mechanical problem. Deputy headmaster Oscar Obonyo says the chair is restricted to the school compound because of the poor condition of pathways in the slum where the boys live. As he waits for it to be repaired, the boys’ friendship continues to flourish even as the community learns to live with it and, maybe, learn from it.