Well,well,well...

Those who are familiar with farm animals know what it takes to milk a cow. It is so difficult. I have spent my life with cows in our homestead but I have never mastered the trade. The worst part of the whole process is that the cow will swing the cow dung laden tail at your face while you are busy milking. It will top up by taking a piss at that instance. It will eventually em, er, for lack of a better word, shit right there. In the rainy seasons cows usually have running stomachs. Ok I will leave it at that. However one thing is for sure. All that trouble will not be remembered as you enjoy a cup of warm milk at the comfort of your house. The satisfaction of proceeds from selling the milk makes you wake up the next morning to take care of that cow.

Every alumnus from the Kenyan public university has a negative word to say about the situation in their respective institutions. Am yet to find a person proud of Moi Kesses University. In audit terms I can describe the institution as a collection of What-can-go-wrongs. It seems bad facilities, mediocre services, dumb service providers, ridiculous red tape, worst geographic location and their respective cousins of darkness met, and as they sipped sugarless tea served in leaking calabashes, they decided to erect their headquarters in Kesses. All new and improved ways of depicting backwardness and general blindness to publicly accredited norms are usually tried and appraised in that place before being rolled out to other branches like the department in charge of processing ID cards. Whenever a new technology is invented to make life easier, the headquarters retaliate by adding more years to using the old technology, just to see whether it can undergo evolution.

I had written a very beautiful post about the little good that Moi university had done for me. I had even planned to write a sweet post of how splendid the Friday graduation was. How I had a hell of a time with Funk, Tosh, Mesh, Kama, Kim, Ann, Carol, Ann, skul of biz guys and last but not least, Ciku. The fuckin awesome meat and smoking (literally) ugali at Kimende. The 10 people 1 shirt escapade at tuskees. Pregnant ladies in clubs and pantyless ladies in clubs. About the convoy from Kisii that came to represent their very own. I wunt say a thing, I changed my mind today.

These guys gave us just Monday and Tuesday to return our gowns. They do not realize how far from the world that university is located. After marshalling all the hustle I undertake to deliver the gown today, they tell me that I had returned the wrong cap (ama inaitwaje?). Now they are closing the office today up to 9^th January. This is the worst part: the guy refused to clear the gown and the other cloth. I believe he feels like I exchanged the right cap with another that I had bought from river road and kept the original for posterity. I have done the math. I will call it the math of shame. A fine of sh 500 per day up to January 9^th comes to sh 10,000. That does not include the fine to replace the fake cap that I have. Then there is lost time of travelling to, well the middle of the forest to face those apes. I am not even sure I will get the permission from job. It gets shittier the more I think of it. Shittier than that cow that shits and pisses as you milk it. Yeah they say the last fuck is the,,um hardest?

Sigh.

Anyway. Despite all the shit and urine that we’ve had to swim through (apparently am yet to finish my whirling bit), the stay was worth it and we came out better. As we trudge into a life of alumnism (new word alert) we can only look back and reflect on the moments and experiences that each and every one of us had. Though it lasted for four years only, it has molded the character of most of us. The poor innocent looks of 2007 filled with eagerness of learning the university ways are no more. They have been replaced by looks depicting vast experience in life and all that it throws at us. The smell remaining after the four years signifies the resilience that we have acquired.

In the four years I made friends. Friends that I could not make anywhere else. I cannot envisage how I could turn up if I had opted for a different degree course, or a different university. Am thankful that I met all of them. They are the people who were around as I transformed from a hardworking freshman to a lazy fun loving veteran. They were there when I skipped classes to watch movies. They were there as I drunk lots of uji, as I got exiled, as I went to exams 1 hour late, as I got chased by police for demonstrating for a better road. They were there as CPA chewed my ass. They were there as I cheered my football team and jeered at my rivals. They were there as I kicked ass in monopoly. They were there as I invested in a multithousand shilling project that died before flight. They were there as I went to church and as I skipped others. They were there as I got sick and required somebody to walk me to the dispensary (which happens to be 100000000kms from the hostels). They were there when I required to copy an exam, (also when I needed somebody to copy from me), they were there when I needed people to form a dysfunctional group for assignments. I am glad they were there. I hope they keep being present. I am also glad that I made no enemy. There was a bigger common enemy to tackle for one to give time for others.

God, it feels like I am narrating a story to some person after doing time in Kamiti while awaiting the last soap dropping sexapade on January 9^th.

Boombox playlist:

We made it – Busta rhymes, Linkin park.