Chronicles of a "Fresha" continues...

You can take a "Fresha" out of high school, but you cannot drive the "high-s-coolness" out of him.

Believe it or not, high school swag and cognitive behavioral aspects still mandated my first year in college. I was the most punctual person when it came to meals, refusing to shave because you want an Afro-hairstyle (anyway for me it was due to lack of money to shave), sharing those nuisance, cliche stories that you think its funny, but you end up laughing alone and that sort of things. One of the thing i was not accustomed to was the freelance intermingling with ladies or the people of opposite gender. Ladies made my pubic hair to coil underneath the pants in embarrassment and experiencing a difficult time like learning how to speak Khoisan. This lady Phobic behavior can be traced way back to primary school; as i have always said i hail from the deepest side of "ushago" where we are still receiving the provision results of general e"r"ection today. One day my dad decided to save an array of coins to buy me a gift because he promised to buy me something if i became number one in class as he did say he became  in his yester years. Although i always doubted how many number ones his class had because my mother and my friend's father were classmates and they always told me (separately) that they topped their class. Never mind, i became number one with a high rated performance in the village of 35%, if you convert the total marks into percentage. As promised my dad arrived in such a melancholy mood that brightened my soul. Usually, his arrival announced that i should go to sleep immediately or it meant punishment time for the day's mistake. He passed on a black polythene paper bag and said "this is your gift son."I smiled opening it, but i changed my facial expressions immediately i saw what was inside, he had bought me shoes instead of something worth like a loaf of bread or the little bottle of juice. Shoes brought shame in our school because everyone was barefooted and the rest of the school could assemble to see this kid with shoes laughing at you like they have seen an alien. I became the school laughing stock. As a result, i opted to be removing them immediately i reached the school parameter and put them back on when i arrived our gate to avoid my parents' wrath.

Back to ladies, during assemblies, boys lined up on one side and girls on the other side; however, joining that line was like putting hot charcoal on my toes. How could i intermingle with a girl, it was such an embarrassing thing for me to stomach. Fortunately or unfortunately (it depends with your morals ), i carried this behavior to college. The first year in college comprised of various combined classes where people from different classes conglomerated in one class for a single lesson or subject. During one of such classes, the desks happened to fill out before everyone found a place to sit. Therefore, the comrade power rule applied where each sort his or her friend to squeeze out a space to accommodate him or her. When i looked up, i met with a face of this lovely girl with a huge smile like the song bird "Ameelina", who decided that because my sit was small and we could not squeeze, she had to sit on my laps. "Sema nyama kwa nyama" (thats the chinese way of saying she was a bright girl) Lap to lap, ass to the "d"-partment, waist to waist, when she turned it was face to face, when she tilted a friction occurred, if she slid rubbing the "d"-partment, fire lit!. Oh my Oh my,,,, that was baa..a..a.d,, no it was indeed gooood,, ouch it was a punishment,,,a baa,,ad idea, actually, it was a tantalizing, an arousing feeling, a nice experience of warm, juicy, colorful ("rangi ya thao") piece of flesh sitting on me. Her sitting allowance matched the Mpigs salaries because she was blessed with a bright future (I call the sitting apparatus future because the one who carries them never sees them just like we do not see our future). Wow what a feeling, i could write notes no more, my concentration was no more, my blood pressure was also no more (because the entire blood cling ed into one place)

I went mteja...my emotions clinched to a single nerve that goes straight to the urethra. Due to the stimuli, the reaction response was inevitable because i could now see the girl some inches above the see level. "Mayne," don't blame me but where i came from. The instances you saw a lady in high school were reduced to zero probability and the ones you saw were these old female teachers who had taught even my parents. By now i was desiring to eat food filled with kerosene to calm my erect stature just like in high school. My eyes were strolling inside her bare chest, my tongue was off the hook singing the lyrics to the song, "please excuse my hands." I went on to undress her after she excused my hands in my mind, i employed this kind of a mouth watering look expressed by the president of #TeamMafisi himself McJessy. My palms were sweaty and my body filled with goose pimples all over; my breathing rate changed and my heart pounded like those of the Olympic athletes on action.

The situation worsen when the girl tilted to gain a comfortable state so that she can write comfortably. "Oh God, Am in", i whispered as i closed my eyes like a "luhyia man" chewing sugarcane mercilessly. Things were happening fast in mind because i had finally managed to undress her top and my arms were roaming uncontrollably. The only remaining thing was to be a man and bring her down to the mood, to cause an ecstatic feeling that will gush her towards me and do it.

 I was about to do it when i heard a loud Horace shriek from a grown man say "Young man, are you obsessed by demons." Good Lord!, it was the lecturer who had been spying on me and directed the entire class to watch me as i hallucinated like the Mombasa kids while high on brown sugar. I was day dreaming and practicing the dream in reality that I even felt a soak feeling in my pants and everyone who had been looking at me burst-ed into this loud laughter that shook the walls. The lady looked at me with these weird eyes that made me walk out of the class embarrassed, but the lecturer called me back making fun of me. I swear being a fresha is the toughest thing that you can go through.