boyfulani

I always loathed all those guys who looked at my girlfriend.Yeah, those days when i had one of my own. When i say looking-  all men are equal at looking, others are more equal than others at looking away- i say looking with the intention of  going against my my grain…and actually, try to do something…Call it insecurity, but in the hood where heshima (respect) is earned through unconventional ways…a meek dude had to suffer.  I remmeber how i conjured the images (since i couldn’t fight back) of ripping them off on that Full Moon month, having turned into a Wolverine.

I remember those bitter days as a wimp, scribbling down Emo poerty, calling those ‘dogs of war’.

Now that i am playing for team B…, i think i know better. Soon after preferring Weed to Women, under the meditation, things are a bit clear.

First to finish up on the storo hapo, juu, the girl i thought had concluded my Wife Search quest, ran off with another guy, and what’s more, several months ago, i heard wedding bells rang…

Soul mates? Karma? I don’t know….all i know is that the pain has never been assauged (save me the moving on clutter, but, really, i have moved on). You could think after getting served, i would feel otherwise for another guy’s girl…but i rest my case with E-sir’s words: Manzi Kitu lazima aha…ahanywe!

Ata ma-wife za watu hawakuwangi spared na hii tsunami, unasema nini?

These thoughts came to me the other day, as i cooled my heels in my hostel hole about campus after a busy day.See, there is this guy who usually comes to solicit for his conjugal rights next door…and sometimes he and his girlfriend do share private moments in my mansion (sic).

So jana, we were spinning those communal campus supers and somehow, i was alone with the babe in the crib (apparently, it was my duty to clean the utensils) and i did my best to avoid talking or looking at her..but could she?

And we talked.

And when i turned my eyes her way: wololo! Liked what i saw, but i had to swallow my wagging tongue for…for what? Well, lets say discretion. *clear throat*.

Warning though, me aki kaa mbaya: Twololo!

What do ya think?

To add to the chit and chatter that goes and comes with time depending on the subject of the day (typical of Kenyans) here’s my eight minus four minus four (zero) opinions on the 8 4 4 Education system. Introduced shortly before/after i was born, critics rose up in arms for and against it. But it has withstood the test of time and continued to churn out lorry-fools and lorry-fools of cabbages.

You’re reading from one now, though he’s quite dehydrated (lack of proper academic waters) and is desperately trying to de-colonize his mind, subscribe to a more realistic school of thought.

I heard something from a lecturer today that twitched my mind a little and i had a different perspective of this whole thing. Of course, it’s the bits and pieces that kawa Kenyans miss:the implementations, reports, suggestion from experts and all that non-sexy clutter that we find boring. He mentioned sijui whose report (similar to zile za akina Wacky, Cock-erel, lol, you know them) and posed: You think there are no professors in the government, expatriates who have never noticed the anomaly in the system to at least attempt to correct it?

True, but as usual we have politicized everything, the cycle turns, editorials are written, black outs come and go, heads bites the tail and..well: NO PROGRESS!

In the same breath,  something Western animal called creativity came up and more so, the general lack of it in Kenya. Has to do with the education system. Where everything is force-fed to you in preparation of ‘mwaura-ing’ it in examination rooms, then call you learned. This results in a bunch of graduates who earn the power to read, go on to work…have families. never really discovering their purpose in life.That explains the flood of News Features on T.V. of old mzees (retirees) successfully carrying out interesting projects…saying they have never been happier in their lives.

Maybe, just maybe, if Kenya would like REALLY grow and stun the world (FORGET OBAMA, ATHLETICS..blah) it must find a way of breast feeding its babies, not with Gin, Vodka or Keg that is the 8-fo-f0 but with nourishing creative juices that may as well pass as milk (Remember Milk has all the nutrients?)

Speaking of which, the Omo advert….the one where the kid asks for a Thufana ya twelf to repair the kafuraita…yeah, rings a bell, i hope….That is the way to go for the Kenyan education: Discover/recognize what a child really like and exploit that potential…not leaving them to grow into those [less] productive ages to applaud it.

****

Hmm, seems today i am not churning out garbage as u-sho.

-boyfulani

Withered passions slithering out of me are suddenly re-ignited by a stray smile. For some reason, a sickening knot unties and ties itself tighter in the empty pit that is my stomach.
Nausea.

***
Untrained laughter reign the terrain we are cruising through. My jalopy heats up and i hit the high-way like a speed bean. One after the other, i engage the Ruaraka Gears and floor my guzzling accelerators.
Adrenalin boils behind my collars and stress takes nose dive down my spine.

The anti-depressant rises like warm air, condensing in my brain as a stimulant.
Soon, my driver designate abandons me to the spates of my cobra-spitting fate.

Unsteady hands try to grip the wheel of my spiraling destiny and so…hic..oner that i can..hic..hic…*sated circles* hic..up again my wheels  bolt from their responsibility standing by me…and give way

back of the head meets ashpalt, splaT!

My brains fly out in slo’ mo’, a replay from ripley’s be-lie-ve it or naught!

Ma-Tricks!.

***

Back to the Feature Writing class

The smile has faded and in its place, the jaded face of an impatient group member.

Soon after the semester commences, there is a certain influx of ‘loaded’ people on campus. At Joshu’s (campus canteen) and other money ‘inlets’, everyone seems to be getting out new crisp ‘big notes’.
Free lunches are in the offing at every corner you turn and at this period, classes are not actually a priority. Spending is the new fad and somewhere, an eerie air of ‘general happiness’ seems to engulf some campuserians.
Girlfriend projects from last semester that had stalled are suddenly jump started with extravagant pampering – if only money could buy love! With the increment in fees this semester, this has not reduced as such. Life is good and everything seems to be within reach. I know of a friend who ‘forwarded’ their birthday from the holidays to coincide with the beginning of the semester, and boy, didn’t the guy throw a bash?
Some students are known to register early and take a short plush holiday before the classes fully commence. They amble back on campus, broke and full of ponderous thoughts on the way forward now that they only had fare back.

I am tempted to think the Student Counseling Centre should expand their menu to cater for the young troubled minds that are greatly affected by the aftermath of spending like a lottery winner with a month to live.

I remember an instance when I was a fresha and having new wads of notes lined up in my wallet, I found it hard to concentrate in class. I found the lecturer to drone on for too long and soon as the he signaled the end of the lecture, I was the first out of the door. You know that feeling of pesa inakuwasha (Money seems to be itching you from your pocket with the best scratch for it being spending).
But there are students who have mastered this art such that, it’s normal to be broke in the second week of school. Before the next dose of cash to sustain them is out they hustle through ‘taxing’ and yes…you know that big black book at shops and off-campus hotels? This is the time that at their humble request, a credit account is drafted under their name.
Having experienced his first hand, I have a ‘theory’ as to where all this begins. This I think is a psychological effect not so uncommon in human beings. Depending on someone’s background, everyone seemingly has a monetary limit that they can effectively manage. If by any chance, and more than often these chances abound, one has an amount beyond this ceiling, it is only human to slash the stash to fit the size of their hands. But many are too engrossed in the abundance of making the money more manageable that they end up to lower than expected limits*.
This is the where one begins to ask for the big black book at the canteen, hotels in off-campus and promptly requests for a new credit account.  I know some who ensure that they buy their dream item from last semester. It could be a stereo, computer or a fancy phone to remind them of the days when the whole world was at their palms, as the semester wears on, ridden with struggles.
Whilst parents/guardians may bail someone out from the financial pit one has created from the spendthrift tendencies, it would be sober to consider that this will not always be the case. Some of these habits carry on to the job world and can lead to serious consequences.
A management student would give you better tips in managing money but I think the University of life offers the best experience so far. As they say, experience is the best teacher. Even so, there are people who seem immune to this experience and continue to live carefree, ending up more than miserable.
One can avoid the stress of very dry and devastating patches in campus life by prioritizing. I also have a simple street mantra that can cure this: please have your amount wired to you (M-Pesa, ATM, etc) in amounts you can easily manage. This needs you to know your ceiling: if its five hundred shillings, like an intravenous (I.V.) drip, let it trickle down in your life.
It follows that once you clear from campus you should not only get out with academic certificates but a University of Life certification too.
All the best in your endeavors! Keep it basic and manageable.