Let me start with a confession. Last week, I, a man in a smart suit, with polished shoes and a serious face like a Deputy County Commissioner, boarded a bus to town wearing torn socks.
Yes. Torn socks.
It happened like this. I was in a hurry, running late for a meeting in town. I opened my drawer, grabbed a pair of socks, and as I was putting them on, I felt it: a hole at the big toe. "Aha!" I thought. My mind quickly did its mathematics. I was wearing long trousers. The trousers would cover it. Who would see my socks inside my shoes? Nobody. I pulled the socks up, wore my shiny shoes and my smart suit, sprayed perfume and looked in the mirror. I looked sharp. Very sharp. Like a man going to open a KCSE examination container. I smiled and left.
In the bus, I sat confidently. A mzee next to me even said, "Mwalimu, you are smart today." I nodded with pride. My torn socks were my secret. But secrets have legs.
When I alighted in town, I made a long stride to jump over a small trench. That is when it happened. The trouser pulled up. The sock, that cunning torn sock, slid down from the shoe and exposed my ankle, and the hole. A small boy selling groundnuts pointed and laughed, "Baba, socks imetoboka!" People turned. My smart suit suddenly became foolish.
I bent down quickly, pulled my trousers down, pulled the socks up, and walked away pretending to check my phone, but my face was burning with shame.
For the rest of the day, I was not doing my work in town. I was doing one job only: pulling my socks. Every five minutes, bend, pull, adjust. Bend, pull, adjust. I became a slave to a torn sock.
In the evening, I told my family. My wife laughed until tears came out. My children said, "Dad, even you?" Then I sat down and thought. This torn sock is not just a sock. It is our lives.
That is how I got this great lesson for students of all levels, and even professionals, especially teachers. We all wear torn socks. We love to wear smart suits outside to impress the public, but inside, we hide torn socks that we think nobody will see.
For a student, the torn sock may be laziness. You wear the smart uniform, you carry a big bag, you look like a serious candidate, but inside your books there is a hole. You have not revised. You have not done homework. You think the teacher will not see. You think the long trousers of pretence will cover you. But on the day of KCSE, when you have to make a long stride over a difficult question, your hole will be exposed. That is why you must keep adjusting and keep revising all the time, lest you forget your notes, just as I kept adjusting my socks the whole day in town. A student who does not regularly check his own notes is like me boarding a bus with torn socks. The examination room is the trench where you must jump, and your nakedness will show.
For a teacher, the torn sock may be lack of preparation. You enter class in a smart suit, with a serious face, but you did not prepare your lesson. You think learners will not notice. For a while, they may not. But one clever question from a student will pull your trousers up, and your torn knowledge will be exposed. You will start sweating, bending and adjusting with stories.
For a professional, the torn sock may be financial indiscipline, a small lie, a bad habit, pride, anger, or an affair you hide. You wear a smart suit of reputation, but you know there is a hole. You think the long pants of position will cover you. But life has trenches. One day you will have to jump, and that hole you ignored will embarrass you in public.
How many of us have worn-out socks and wear them on a journey without continuous checks? How many families have financial torn socks, small debts we ignore, saying "no one will know", until auctioneers expose our ankles? How many marriages have torn socks of unfaithfulness hidden under long trousers of "we are okay"?
What is the panacea? What is the cure? The cure is not to wear long trousers. The cure is to check regularly and rectify before it is too late. Just as a pilot does pre-flight checks, and a driver checks oil and tyres before a long journey, so must we check our lives daily.
A student must check his understanding every evening. Have I understood today's lesson? Where is my hole? Let me mend it now before the exams expose me. A teacher must check his lesson notes, his character and his punctuality. Am I still a role model, or am I just wearing a smart suit with torn values? A professional must audit himself. Check your finances, your health, your marriage and your spiritual life. Mend that small hole now, because a small hole, ignored, becomes a big tear that swallows the whole sock.
My friends, do not wait for a small boy in town to shout, "Baba, imetoboka!" Check your socks now. While you are still in the house. While there is still time to change them.
Because in life, it is not the smart suit that makes you respectable. It is the integrity of the socks you wear inside that no one sees, but that God and time will eventually expose.
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