The next morning, the school notice board carried two pieces of information that pulled in opposite directions: `ROOF REWORK — PASS` and `WATER TEST — REPAIR IN PROGRESS`. Beneath them was a new line about the beds: `54 CONFIRMED / 18 PENDING`.
There was no word *soon*. No word *almost*. Zawadi watched two parents who had come to the office stand in front of the board for several minutes without asking anyone for reassurance. Visible information was beginning to reduce rumor more effectively than confident speeches.
But transparency did not solve everything.
Miriam arrived carrying five forms. “These parents want their children to stay with relatives until the dormitory is finished.”
Ruth read through them. “Two have relatives nearby. Three want their children to stay with family friends.”
“More requests will come. After yesterday’s forum, people started making their own arrangements.”
Muriithi frowned. “We cannot scatter boarding students randomly around town.”
“Exactly,” Zawadi said. “We need a system before WhatsApp creates one for us.”
They formed a small host-family coordination group. Every request needed parent consent, the host’s identity, household capacity, distance from school, a transport plan, emergency contacts and a safeguarding declaration. Nobody would receive priority simply because a family had called first or knew someone influential.
“Priority should go to students most affected by the temporary conditions,” Miriam said.
“How do we judge that without exposing private health information?” Muriithi asked.
“By category, not diagnosis,” Zawadi replied. “Medical need, disability access, severe crowding distress, safeguarding concern, distance. Details stay with the matron or counselor.”
“And every placement should be reviewed by two adults,” Ruth added.
Kibet pointed to the next problem. “Transport. One proposed household is twelve kilometers away.”
The plan stalled there. The school did not have a spare vehicle to move students morning and evening. Families with cars could manage, but that would turn the option into a benefit for those with resources.
“Then host placement is not a real option unless transport is verified,” Zawadi said.
They added another rule: no placement without a safe, affordable route back to school. Where possible, the school would organize shared pickup points.
That afternoon they held another parent forum. This one was smaller but harder. Hana and two student representatives were given ten minutes at the start.
Hana did not make a speech. She read five questions collected from students.
“How do we know who can apply for alternative housing? Who do we tell if we feel unsafe? If the new dormitory has not passed inspection, who can say we still do not move? Will students join the inspection? If a parent does not want their child photographed in an update, will the school respect that?”
Muriithi wrote down every question.
Miriam said, “These are the questions adults wanted answered on day one. Now the students are asking them directly.”
Zawadi explained the reporting route: an anonymous complaint box, the matron, class teacher and counselor. Ruth promised that safety concerns would carry a response status rather than disappear into a box.
For the new dorm inspection, Principal Wanjala agreed that two student representatives and one parent representative could observe the lived-use section after professional technical checks were completed.
“The technical sign-off stays with professionals,” he said.
“Yes,” Hana replied. “We do not want to sign the wiring. We want to know whether the place works for the people who will live there.”
Even Muriithi smiled.
Then a parent stood at the back. “I do not want my daughter sleeping in a classroom for one more night. I have found a friend’s family. I want to take her today.”
Ruth asked for the address and transport details.
“They will work it out.”
“We need the details before approving the placement.”
The parent’s voice sharpened. “The school that put more than seventy children in a hall is now teaching me about safety?”
The room went silent.
Muriithi raised the microphone. This time he did not defend himself first.
“That is a fair question. We used the hall before final sign-off. That was wrong. It does not give us permission to make another unsafe decision. That is why the host-family process must be clearer than the process we used at the beginning.”
The parent was not fully satisfied, but sat down.
After the forum, Miriam told Zawadi, “Admitting a mistake does not remove anger. It removes the argument about whether the mistake happened.”
By evening, the water leak had been identified, the electrical test had passed its first stage, and fifty-four beds were on their way.
Then the host-family forms revealed another problem. Three different parents had named the same woman, Mama Njeri, as someone able to take several students.
“How many spare rooms does she have?” Ruth asked.
Nobody knew.
When they called, Mama Njeri cheerfully said she could help as many girls as possible. But she had only one spare bedroom with two beds.
“The others can put mattresses in the sitting room,” she said.
Zawadi and Ruth looked at each other.
They were about to export the school’s overcrowding problem into someone’s house.
“Host families need occupancy caps too,” Zawadi said.
Before they finished, the secretary entered with an envelope from the board office.
“The board wants a complete timeline tomorrow,” she said. “From the decision to open the temporary hall until now.”
Muriithi read the letter and spoke quietly.
“Then tomorrow we do not only explain what we are fixing. We explain who knew what, and when.”
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