Our Life Stories: Peter Macharia Nduta

My name is Peter Macharia Nduta. I was born on January 17,1992. My birth place is an area that was devastated by a forest fire during the 1992 tribal clashes in Uasin-Ngishu district. I am the only child of Sarah Nduta.

It was in late 1999 that I joined a preschool in Kericho. One of my uncles had taken me and decided to educate me as my mother was unable due to poverty. By then, we had been living in Nakuru, with my maternal grandmother who had escaped from the burnt forest after the tribal clash. By God’s grace, I was able to join the primary school the following year. Life was not easy as my uncle had two wives who had grown-up children.  I was abused by some of my relatives making my life unbearable. Sometimes during Christmas days, my cousins were bought new clothes and I was ignored. I recall one time when I took care of one of my young cousins so that I could be bought Christmas clothes.  

In 2002, my mother passed away after suffering from an unknown disease. I had seen her in August (2001) when her health deteriorated but I did not know at that time it would be the last time. After her death, I lost the meaning of life and I even thought of dying. I thought there was no hope for me having neither mother nor anyone to call a father.

In 2004, upon entering Class 5 I moved back with my grandmother to the place I was born. My grandmother was very caring and understanding and at last I found peace.  It was at this time that free education was introduced at the primary level in Kenya. When it was time to take the Class 8 KCPE exam in November 2007, we had no money for the fees.  However, once again God provided and my grandmother was allowed to pay the fees slowly over time.  My hope for attending a secondary school was minimal. In my view, no one had money to take me to secondary school. Even the uncle, who had helped me to get into preschool, had a son who was supposed to join secondary school the following year.

The end of 2007 brought on the post election violence.  My grandmother was displaced and her property destroyed.  She was sent to a displaced persons’ camp where she still remains today.  My uncle’s property was destroyed and his shop burned down. I had nowhere to go. It seemed as if every time I wanted to go to the next stage there was a blaze to pass through. My vision of going to high school and becoming an aeronautical engineer was disappearing.

It was during this time that my grandmother called me and informed me of a school she had found, called Rohi.  I was so excited but I did not have money for transportation and I was also suffering from malaria. I stayed at home praying and hoping that God would open the doors for me.

It was on May 21, 2008, on a Tuesday that I was admitted to Rohi High School and my dream of becoming an engineer and helping the community had resurrected again. God had good plans for me. I believe through God’s hands I can do all things. My prayer is that God will help me to be who He wants me to be.