AC Butonge High School Alumni

Administration Block in progress

Game time.

Provisional Results.

Happy New Year, peeps!
2026

The Day the Wind Went to School.

It was the 2nd of October 2023. Lunch had just been served, teachers proudly devouring their ugali with beef, while students, as usual, managed with ugali and sukumawiki. By 2:00 pm, everyone had dragged themselves back into classrooms, ready for the dreaded afternoon lessons.

But nature had other plans.

Around 2:30 pm, the sky turned gray, and a big mischievous wind swept in like a comedian cracking jokes. At first, it playfully whistled through the trees, but then boom! it started uprooting them like carrots. Not satisfied, it went for the rooftops of classrooms. Sheets of iron were flying around like kites at a festival.

The old stream-side building where Mr. Kusienya once had his office shook dangerously, and the wind threatened to carry away the computer lab and the Form One block. Panic exploded. Students scattered in every direction, some running, some screaming, some just frozen in shock.

Electricity blinked out, plunging the school into darkness. Teachers and students piled on verandas and corridors, praying the wind would spare their heads. The store that held precious rice and stationery was blown apar, an academic tragedy, because rice was the “gold” of the dining hall.

The deputy principal, Mr. Muyekho, did his best to marshal order, shouting instructions like a general at war. But the wind wasn’t done humiliating teachers.

Mr. Wamasimbi and Mr. Kusienya lost their precious reams of paper scattered like confetti at a wedding. Teachers’ houses also took a beating. Poor Mr. Siambi found his well-stocked kitchen destroyed: eggs broken, rice soaked, shopping washed away. Meanwhile, Mr. Wambulwa’s house, already known for its emptiness, was reduced to just soggy bedding and an even emptier kitchen.

Then came Mr. Aluchura, who had tried to secure his superbike, TV, and eggs. But the wind tossed them like marbles. To make it worse, a bold student named David tried sneaking into his house, perhaps to “rescue” valuables. Instead, David Isan, received a thunderous slap from the furious teacher that sent him sprinting back outside faster than the wind itself.

Through all this chaos, Mr. Wamkota couldn’t resist cracking jokes. He laughed at teachers whose kitchens had once been full but were now completely destroyed, teasing them as if hunger had finally humbled their pride.

By evening, the students thought they’d be sent home. Their chants filled the air: “Tunaenda nyumbani! Tunaenda nyumbani!” But the principal, Mr. Moyi, crushed their hopes. He ordered them to remain on campus. With Mwenge Hostel partially destroyed, students were forced to squeeze into the remaining hostels, sharing beds and floors for the night.

Luckily, amidst all the destruction from broken eggs, soaked rice, scattered electronics, there were no injuries or fatalities. It was a day everyone at school would never forget: the day the wind went to school and almost enrolled itself as the new principal.

Were you a morning preps or evening preps person?

Mimi I only needed to sleep 😴 🤣

Quick thought for the alumni…

When we look back at our days in AC Butonge, we laugh at the good experiences, the ugali-sukuma days, the cold showers, and even assemblies that felt like court sessions. But beyond the jokes—those experiences toughened us.

So here’s the question:
Do you think the strict routines, punishments, and hardships in high school really shaped us into stronger adults—or were they just unnecessary suffering we romanticize today?

Sometimes I wonder… was it the discipline that built us, or the friendships and shared struggles that carried us through? 🤔

What’s your take? Were those days a blessing in disguise, or do we just laugh now to cover the pain?

On today’s episode: Mondays. The toughest, most unforgiving day of the week 😅😭.

After dancing, chilling, and pretending to be celebrities over the weekend, Monday hit like a lorry. Waking up at 4:30 AM was a crime against humanity. Then came the cold showers at the ablution block—those taps poured water straight from Mount Elgon glaciers wallahi 😭.

Just when you were still shaking from the cold and settling in class for morning preps, boom—Mr. Sangura, our Mathematics HOD, would appear in class by 5:20 AM, already ready to drill us on Indices. Imagine facing Indices before sunrise! 😂 Eeey God what did I do to deserve this!

Then came the Monday assembly—eeey, that one was always a movie. The teacher on duty, Mr. Kimai, would roast us like we were goats at a wedding. Immediately after, the deputy principal would roar like a lion about the weekend misdeeds. And finally, Principal Mr. Wekesa, armed with the mighty black book of fee arrears, would call out names one by one. If your name featured, just know your week had already ended there 😅.

By 10:00 AM tea break, a different kind of madness began—the scramble for kangumu, doughnuts, bread, and biscuits at the tiny school canteen. That shop was so small it couldn’t even hold a full stream, yet somehow we all squeezed in like sardines. And snacks? Never enough. Was it that some learners bought in bulk or did the canteen uncle just ration supplies? To this day I wonder—why was our canteen that small? Couldn’t it have been expanded? Wait… was it ever expanded? 🤔😂

Lessons themselves weren’t too bad. Moving around between the computer lab, physics lab, chemistry/biology labs, library, and even the school farm for agriculture made the day feel shorter. But of course, boys remained boys. I still remember one biology practical outside the lab—capture-recapture method—when suddenly a girl passed on the road outside the fence. Within seconds, every boy had his head squeezed between Kay apple branches, pretending to study wildlife while actually conducting beauty capture-recapture 😂.

And as I write this, I can’t forget our dear biology teacher, Kuka. May he rest in peace. He made even the toughest Monday feel bearable.

Mondays at AC Butonge were brutal, yes—but they gave us stories we’ll never stop laughing about.

As we say in Butonge: “If you survived Mr. Sangura, Mr. Kimai, and Mr. Otsuong, you can face any Monday in life.” 💪😂

Eeeh, Saturdays at AC were not just days—they were drama episodes. Comedy, horror, romance, and action all packed in one script 😅.

Saturday morning started with preps (because books in AC never respected weekends), then breakfast before the Saturday assembly. That’s when teachers rolled out Operation Cleaning Day.

Now, I stayed in Nyayo Hostel—the pride of being the hostel with the smartest students, but also the world headquarters of bedbugs. Saturdays meant scrubbing floors, dusting roofs, fumigating, and fighting those bloodsuckers like soldiers. And wueh, that toilet behind Nyayo? If you dared enter with your sweater, you’d smell like it till sunset 🤢. I wonder why it had such a bad odor 😂

And of course, there was Mr. Kundu, our English and Literature teacher. The man had spy powers. He’d sneak into Utalii hostel like DCI, catching boys with phones. We believed he had magical eyes, but truth is, he was just sharp—plus prefects snitched like they were earning a commission😂😭.

By lunchtime, our reward was the same plate of ugali and sukuma wiki. Meat? Nowhere to be seen. Why didn’t we have meat or at least rice and beans on Saturday surely? Mimi sijawahi elewa till today what type of menu we had.

Afternoons were lighter: visiting Mwenge hostel, or sneaking into the computer lab to “learn computer basics”—which really meant playing spider Solitaire and watching Vybz Kartel YouTube videos. Mwenge was also legendary because Mr. Kusienya, our coolest DoS ever, lived just nearby. Of course, whispers about his daughter only circulated during blackouts—daylight was too risky 😅.

And who remembers queuing at the staffroom to borrow teachers’ phones? We’d call home hoping for M-Pesa, only to hear: ‘My son, study hard. Life is hard here at home.’ 😭 After a few attempts, I stopped. That investment had no returns! Everyone my parents were broke aaah I gave up.

Evening was the climax. Music system crew danced like it was disco night, TV squad binge-watched series, while CU brethren prayed with such intensity you’d think heaven was about to set up HQ in Butonge 🙌.

By bedtime, we were dusty, and tired, but rich in laughter and memories. Saturdays at AC Butonge weren’t for the weak—they were for legends.

As we say in Butonge: “If you survived Nyayo bedbugs, you can survive anything in life.” 😂

Watching the 2025 CHAN Games takes me down memory lane—straight back to the golden days at AC Butonge High School. Back then, music, drama, and games weren’t just events, they were part of our DNA. Whenever we hosted games on the school grounds, the whole village merged with us, creating an unstoppable force that cheered our team into thrashing any opponent that dared cross our path.

Our biggest rivals? St. Anthony Sirisia. And trust me, they never came quietly. They arrived in droves—an entire sea of boys—many of whom had shamelessly sneaked out through back routes just to “nyemelea” our Bukokholo queens. Things always escalated whenever Chwele Girls joined the tournament. Suddenly, football turned into WWF, and fights erupted over girls who, to be honest, didn’t even know half those hungry hyenas existed 🤣.

I still remember 2011, at the district games hosted at Namwela Boys. Two stout, mean-looking fellows cornered me simply because I had the audacity to wear an AC Butonge uniform 😹. They roughed me up, but thanks to the heavy githeri shielding my stomach, I stood my ground like a true warrior. Funny thing—these wild scenes were mostly common in lower-division competitions. At higher levels, when we faced giants like Kamusinga and Kibabii, there was mutual respect—except, of course, for a few rugby hotheads who always thought muscles were brains.

And then there was that legendary day in Form 3X (yes, I was X from day one 😅). My good friend Brian, a fresh transfer, decided to get too close with his Bukokholo girlfriend right behind the library, next to the Physics lab. Out of nowhere, Deputy Principal Mr. Otsuong Eugine appeared like a ghost and caught them red-handed! Poor Brian froze—he couldn’t run, couldn’t stand, his only real option was to sprout wings and fly away with his kipenzi.😂 But in the most shocking plot twist of our high school era, Mr. Otsuong cracked a smile, brushed it off with a joke, and told them to head back to the field. To date, Brian remains the only person alive who has witnessed Mr. Otsuong smile.

Ah, the chaos, the drama, the thrill… Those were the real high school memories.