Bottomline: I would be nursing babies playing wifely roles on a girlfriend tender in someone’s room after being placed on the line of fire.
“Until you get married, keep in mind that dating is prohibited as long as you are under my roof,” those were my dad’s last words before joined campus, a place I had yearned for throughout my high school years.
Like any other high school ‘graduate’, I was fed with unrealistic expectations from scholarly parents alongside old campus folks, the locals ‘wenyeji’ as they usually call themselves. They will talk of it as an earthly hell thus I dressed for the cold hand death. A year down the line, the fresher feeling is over. I have experienced life, hit by reality though some expectations were fulfilled.
A freshman’s calculus computation suggests that; given the size of the student body, you’ll eventually find Mr. Right. On the first month, I was staring at a number of quasi romantic narratives right from the laundry room to the lecture halls. Morning came with a series of well-constructed love phrases from unknown senders bombarding my WhatsApp. For a while I thought I had the fresher logo on my forehead for everywhere I passed, a wink situation was inevitable.
However, along the academic highway, I saw my crush. I made up a tired face prompting him to ask if I was sick or not whenever I bumped into him. Then came my first night out, the fresher’s night. It was fun drunk dancing freshmen flocked introducing themselves. ”Leo ni kulamba lolo” some kept shouting. Thanks to the cliché that all men are dogs, I would be nursing babies playing wifely roles on a girlfriend tender in someone’s room after being placed on the line of fire .
First year has the worst classroom chronicles ride. “Hello comrades, we will be having a class tomorrow from 7.00 am.” This is the last message that pops up in my inbox when am in the middle of my favorite 20 episode series Being Mary Jane forcing me to tuck tight every night. The sun rises early with rays piercing through my curtains cutting my sleep even before my alarm becomes a nuisance. Struggling to get out of the warmth of my beddings I force my way to the bathroom with a bucket of cold water only to find all bathrooms flooded the only “surviving” room has a long queue.
Abiding to natural justice (first come first serve) I join the queue, the clock reads ten minutes to seven. Missing a bath once does not render one dirty, I say to myself. Walking through the pathways, I have no idea where the lecture rooms are. Luckily, I spot a familiar face through the windows thus opting to attend that lecture. I hardly get what the boring lecturer is saying as my late coming saw me grab the back seat. After two hours of dubbing notes, the reality hits me that I have been attending the wrong lecture.
I walked back to my room disappointed. Just as I prepare to unlock the door, it pushes in at the slightest touch. My wardrobe is open, clothes are scattered all over, my phone is missing from the charging area after moving my eyes around, my most treasured item, my laptop, has been towed from its hiding place, under the duvet. With teary eyes I stood there with a blank mind trying to comprehend what had just transpired less than 45 minutes since I left the room as I cursed the architect of downfall thinking how I will call back home to explain what seemed like a conspiracy.
It then hits me that my mouth hadn’t sent any package to my stomach since morning. Under the bed lies an unused coil. I had zero knowledge of how this gadget works since I spent the first days either being MESSed up or eating at the nearby cafeterias hunger whispered, “try dear try… the trial went smoothly at first. With my hidden engineer abilities, electric shock suddenly sends me to the place I would rather be, on my bed. The hunger pangs lead me to the next door neighbor to ask for assistance. Being broke enough, I prepare noodles for lunch.
You don’t know someone until you live with them. Roommate horror stories are all over campus. As a first year, you are likely to find a roommate whose lovemaking appetite subjects you to numerous “exiles”. Most hostels have strict policy like the 10 am -10 pm rule on paper, the boy child being the boy child we know always finds a way of sneaking in the girls hostel. Actually there are more males than females spending the night in female hostels. There is these leech type of a roommate who reports every mistake to the janitors.
With the first year struggles over, let’s anticipate for second year.