Rants of a campus girl

Amunga Lavenda

Let’s think about it. It’s been a short holiday yet long enough to have witnessed people pass on, politicians fight and so on and so forth. Now i ought to return to school and sadly, I don’t really want to. Okay, it’s my forth year. You know the way the forth year is usually such a pain in the ass; you got to do everything on time before it’s too late?

I am actually in a dilemma as i draft this letter. I just found out that my best friend’s jamaa is seeing my other friend. In other words they are all being played. Eeey! This is one tricky scenario. What t do? But again, pilipili nisiyoila yaniwashiani?

I think the best thing for me to do in order to leave my turmoil state is to convince my two best friends on the importance of focusing our energy on books and leave these useless boys. After all, it’s our final year. Isn’t that the best advice ever?

Dumped at Christmas

It’s the end of the year, and i can’t hold back my tear. I’ve been dumped. Lying aimlessly on my bed, my mama thinks there is a grandchild in the offing. I’ve been moody throughout Christmas. My little brother is just back home after a week in hospital; he lost his tooth because of me. Because of all this, mama is certain that I am pregnant!

I can’t help it. It is at this point that you wish the world would open and swallow you alive. I am a mess. My Christmas has not been merry. My heart is not merry. This feeling so unfamiliar, I wish I could see that jamaa. He had declared his love for me. He said I shine brighter than the sun. But when I indeed started to glow, he didn’t hesitate to blow me away. Now I am all alone, my eyes all puffy and swollen.

Moreso, I can’t ignore the fact that schools are almost opening. I can only imagine the repeats that I’ll have to deal with because of focusing all my energy on some silly jamaa who dumped me. If only…

Tick tock

Campus students are no longer at peace. Comrades have decided to dedicate all energy to their school work. It’s being whispered that Matiang’i is to bring his ‘witchcraft tools’ to the university level.

I saw Gitau the drunk the other day. He was all dressed up and armed with a pile of tattered books he must have picked up during his retreats from various bars across Kenya. He is a changed comrade I tell you. All attentive and ready to get a first class despite this being his last year.

Truly Matiang’i news has been a blow to all comrades across Kenya. Meanwhile in other news, comrades have been spotted going back to their former high schools to pick their KCSE certificates, lest Matiang’i decides to review them.

No need to find Cs where you had As!

Western express

Last week while at a western express booking office, I was impressed at how easy it is to identify a luhya.

Seated on a mean-looking bench patiently waiting my turn, my nosy self couldn’t help but scrutinize my neighbours.

Just next to me, a lady sneezed, loudly. Clearly unperturbed and unashamed, she went on to use the back of her palm to noisily wipe her filthy nose!Searching the room for a sane being as disgusted as me, I was taken aback when it dawned on me that nobody had been bothered by the act expect me.

Still dumbfounded, I came to when a man on the line loudly declared, “Na niko na njaa!” I mean, who wanted to know? Friends, as soon as he uttered the words, a cassava hawker rushed in to save the day. And the man’s needs were met.

Just nearby, a baby wailed. Kidogo kidogo, a bang so loud it made me turn in worry and turmoil. Guess what? A disciplinary action had just been committed. Apparently, the mother to the wailing baby had been so tired by the child’s indisciplinary case of crying and had decided to teach the kid a lesson: thrown the sad boy to the ground.

It was then unanimously agreed upon that discipline had been instilled on the child.

Truly, these relatives of mine are a unique lot.

I miss

I can’t wait to go back to school!! You know, the Multimedia University of Kenya was among the first varsities to go on holiday this year. You see, our VC got born again! He then declared the day,a public holiday at school till January, so we’ve practically been in the same boat as these kids who’ve been home for two months courtesy of you know who.

I bet our VC is still on a missionary safari across the globe. So we still aren’t sure when school will open. Still, I can’t wait to go back. Know why? I miss laughing my heart out each time a funny looking jamaa who thinks he’s hit the fashion list approaches me.

I miss the times when I am rushing to class and some i-don’t-know-who stops me in my tracks since he thinks he’s worth my time when in real sense, just a glance at him would make a baby wail.I miss looking up to be met by a pimple faced man with tobacco stained teeth that seem to have phobia for paste.

For a while, i study the guy, noticing his protruding stomatch, his red bulbous eyes, his kinky hair that must be infested by lice, his almost tattered clothing…why me? Why choose me?I miss how not knowing how else to put off this sad looking human being, I decide to fart to chase him away. And away he goes, sorry. Away he runs, never to speak to me again.

I miss my life at school.

Dear diary

It’s the beginning of the end! I mean…it’s January. The Christmas mood is over, so now it’s back to school. Thing is, just like all my campus friends,I am broke. Like I said,it’s January.

Still, I need a complete makeover, I mean, it’s January! New shoes, change of wardrobe, make-up..new look! And guess what, it’s my birthday month. Why is January always this hectic?

I tell you, as soon as school reopens next week, I won’t fail to spot a hunger stricken Wafula just chilling near the kitchen waiting for leftovers. Kanono will have begun his ‘saidia maskini’ business just outside the cafeteria; and trust me, people will drop coins into his tin as if truly he is a maskini. During other months though, Kanono is usually a well dressed expensive looking jamaa who’s always offering to take any willing freshas out for lunch. So truly, January is usually just a hard month that turns heroes to zeros.

Enough Matiang’i, ptooh!
This man is now intruding into my sleep! I tell you, enough is enough. I had the worst dream ever!

It was in February, the 20th of this year. Just like in any other university, students were lazying around, the day was slow. And hot. In class, Mr. Musyoka was busy preaching a lot of nothings to a class of uninterested atheists.

Then out of the blues, as happens in movies, the noisy wind blew into the classroom and the class grew silent. From nowhere, Matiang’i walked in, armed with a register, a red pen and a following of confused lecturers.

He went around, demanding for school identification cards to be placed on top of the desks! He reached me, studied me keenly, even sniffed me as if trying to trace an oduor, then loudly called out:

Who was this one’s principal in high school?! What did she get! Where is this year’s transcript!

I even spotted my high school principal, all dumbfounded and resembling Kabura when all claims on her started to fall into place. Matiang’i continued to study my KCSE result slip, and boy did he correct each grade!

He then shouted to no one in particular: huyu arudi shule! As soon as he uttered those words, someone handed me tools of a geometrical set in a plastic transparent paper. I was then ruthlessly thrown into a truck written on : Matiang’i hapendangi ujinga! together with other helpless crooks like me. Then, I woke up with a start!

Matiang’i please!


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