THE CHRONICLES OF A FRESHA CONTINUES
The first commandment that you shall never forget during a strike in Kenya is..
Thy shall interact with tear gas anytime after the strike begins....Bearing this in mind, bottles of water and wet handkerchiefs were in plenty,,,zilikuwa #wellewelle before polisi watuimbie #nyongwa
I don't know how police receive news that an institution is going on strike because they were already on location, armed to the teeth. To calm the anxiety, the chairman assured us that it would be a peaceful demonstration and he will not allow any police officer to engage a student into running battles (i wondered whether he was the commander in chief or inspector general). This was enough conviction for the students to start the "peaceful" demonstration.
"vinnie shika hizi vitu mbebe na mueke vizuri zionekane," one of the student leaders blurted placing a bunch of placards on my hands. They were extremely heavy and they carried a strong message that my fellow freshas and I were to carry along. first things first, we removed the school flag, burnt it but we did not touch the Kenyan flag because it is a symbol of sovereignty (to be sincere i don't know what the word means i just over hear it with politicians, especially the guy who goes to ICC as a private citizen). After this was done, we matched to the streets and the freshas carrying the placards were paraded on the front line with the full glare of the media. When i said i have never appeared on TV i lied, this day i received live coverage from the biggest media companies in Kenya; however, i was dressed in such a way that eradicated my recognition permanently.
Within five minutes of our appearance, businesses started closing, matatus and other private cars started clearing the road. That is when i realized it was a serious thing. Imagine closing businesses at Haile Sallasie Road. wait a minute, do you know the kind of businesses that operate on this road? Time towers that houses KRA, Central Bank of Kenya, Railways Corporation, Several commercial banks and other major businesses were all closing down. Organizations that are manned by a hoard number of security officers and tight surveillance.
Chaos were starting and tension was skyrocketing as white smoke started uprising bringing a stampede all over. A fresha is still a fresha with behavior of a mono. This is because i got engulfed in the comrade power thing and started undressing, revealing my identity. It was fun seeing police throw tear gas canisters as hockey players would hit it back with the hockey sticks and it would get back to the police. Gor Mahia and AFC fans were very experienced at this game as they carried buckets of water where they would dip the teargas canister until it became docile. One thing that amused me is that the haille salasie road is tarmacked but i could see stones flying over like Taliban missiles. For Kiambu students, it was business as usual as they hawked water bottles to people who could not handle the tear gas. Surprisingly, they had low-flat shoes that they sold to ladies since they could not run with heels and tight up skirts. My western friends were struggling with the open food kiosk to scramble for the available food. "Amerucans' or Vaites and kisii were busy unleashing their tempers by harassing by-passers and motorists. Coast students were still preparing to start the show as their north-eastern counter parts spat on everyone at sight. All in all everyone was doing something totally wrong.
GSU and Anti-Riot police were just speculating the drama from a safer distance all that long. It was their time to enter and substitute the weak regular police. It was not fun anymore, it was drama, this when the comrade power started experiencing blackout. They came with a huge green lorry that dispatched them at various corners. There was another lorry that carried water with a huge pipe and it was splashing the water heavily. With my fresha mind, i thought this was a relieve as i run towards the lorry to get washed and refresh. I can tell you I was really stupid, the water was itchy, i scratched my body so rough that i could not move. Every part of the body was itching and around 15 police were pursuing me at higher speed than NFS. They were lifting their heavy rungus, whips and muzzle guns. I wondered whether to scratch my body, run away or just wake up from the horrendous dream. I thought our chairman had said that police wont hurt us.
I was motivated to run when i saw another lady who was in a mini-skirt pass me at a supersonic speed. Before i made my mind, one police managed to reach my back with his whip. I automatically accelerated and i guess i was moving at a speed of 30km/hr. The situation was getting bad as i could see ladies cry as police beat them mercilessly. Men were not spared as they received kicks and blows as they were being carried into the police lorry like ragged clothes. This was the moment that TV reporters were looking for news items as i intermingled with them as they flanked my face with their huge cameras. My oh my, the situation was getting worse as my shoes got lost, my shirt was torn and the entire body was in pain. The least i needed was to stop running because police were everywhere. Lucky enough, I managed to enter the railway station by jumping over the fence. The police at the station did not notice as they were busy calming the situation. I sat at an isolated corner waiting for the evening train patiently as i feared everybody would turn me in.
Demonstrations are not good, but they are unavoidable. One lesson though, do not strike blindly, know the cause and the consequence first. The Chronicles of a Fresha is out.
BAKE Tracker
Friday, 21 November 2014
Thursday, 20 November 2014
MY DRESS MY CHOICE.. The Chronicles of a fresha
If you live in planet earth, i suppose by now you know the horrendous scenario that happened in Nairobi and Mombasa CBDs. In case you live in planet Mars, let me delineate the gossip to you in the most appropriate avenue, The Chronicles of a fRESHA style.
Two well dressed ladies were stripped off their clothes in two incidences in Nairobi and Mombasa respectively, even in Kayole just yesterday. The ugly scenes irked Kenyan women leading to the #mydressmychoice campaign that has gone viral attracting attention from western media. You all know that me and ladies are two parallel lines that do not come into terms. However, today you have my support, and i repeat, TODAY only. We thought Nairobi has the most open minded and swagged up individuals in the country. But it seems there are those who have persistently refused to leaved the raccoon of ignorant people. Suppose the undressed woman was your mother...and here is when i quote Adan Duale "hizo nguo si za mama yako buana."
That incidence has just reminded me of various demonstrations that happened in university and i was privileged to be part of "several" of them. However, the most significant strike happened when i was one month old in campus. My friend, it was disastrous, cataclysmic, ruinous, catastrophic, barbaric, contemptuous, and other tough words that Babu Owino uses when appearing on press appealing for a university strike.
My life is characterized with unfortunate incidences and hapless, miserable experiences. My education life is not an exception. I have attended schools where survival for the fittest applies from morning till dusk. Kegonge High school where you had to mark your territory to survive. The Kenya Polytechnic University College was the icing on the cake. As the name suggests, the school is not sure whether it is an university, college, polytechnic, free education, D.E.B or just a collection of rowdy guys. However, it has the best experience in the world both academically and in social context.
In university, i expected to see strike notifications on the toilet walls and leaflets like we did in high school. Owe unto me when i learnt that in campus, a strike is announced publicly without fear or intimidation. That was a new one to me. To be frank, i was very scared because i thought that was equivalent to throwing stones at a police station. It was quite different from high school since students were making threats to the administration right on their noses.
Comrade Power,,, you respond power! with a lot of energy. The date was set and everything was ready to set the pace and match to the HELB offices. But before the story, here were the grievances that instigated our much awaited strike.
1. HELB was late (i have never been entitled to this loan and i have demonstrated the entire campus life for Helb which i dont recieve, ati comrade power)
2. The announced Mrs. Campus was not beautiful
3. Food prices were very high at the school canteen (i thought food issues ended in high school, i was wrong because even at my place of work food is a very big issue)
4. Campus elections were delayed (Politics will once kill Africans)
5. misappropriation of funds (to date i have never understood how i accused people of misappropriating funds without a single evidence or proof, just following what others said, peer pressure i bet)
6. for the fun of striking
The grievances were enough to substantiate a reason for taking to the streets and show the world that we are tough living things. There was room for adding your personal grievance; for example, there was a lady lecturer who annoyed me for wearing so skimpy and she spent half of the class applying oil on her skin and lipstick. I was very much excited that i was going to engage in a strike at a higher level. We usually called them educated-call of actions by the most educated members of the society (I am sorry to learn that we are not).
It was a sunny morning and the required pysch, morale, energy and attitude towards demonstration was smelt from far. Everybody was in the mood and the student union members were giving instructions as the media people flocked the school environs. I remembered that my parents occasionally watch TV News at a local hotel and they might bump with their son misbehavior. That is when i decided to camouflage and wear in such a way that i remained unnoticeable.
We were ready to hit the road...
To be continued tomorrow..
Two well dressed ladies were stripped off their clothes in two incidences in Nairobi and Mombasa respectively, even in Kayole just yesterday. The ugly scenes irked Kenyan women leading to the #mydressmychoice campaign that has gone viral attracting attention from western media. You all know that me and ladies are two parallel lines that do not come into terms. However, today you have my support, and i repeat, TODAY only. We thought Nairobi has the most open minded and swagged up individuals in the country. But it seems there are those who have persistently refused to leaved the raccoon of ignorant people. Suppose the undressed woman was your mother...and here is when i quote Adan Duale "hizo nguo si za mama yako buana."
That incidence has just reminded me of various demonstrations that happened in university and i was privileged to be part of "several" of them. However, the most significant strike happened when i was one month old in campus. My friend, it was disastrous, cataclysmic, ruinous, catastrophic, barbaric, contemptuous, and other tough words that Babu Owino uses when appearing on press appealing for a university strike.
My life is characterized with unfortunate incidences and hapless, miserable experiences. My education life is not an exception. I have attended schools where survival for the fittest applies from morning till dusk. Kegonge High school where you had to mark your territory to survive. The Kenya Polytechnic University College was the icing on the cake. As the name suggests, the school is not sure whether it is an university, college, polytechnic, free education, D.E.B or just a collection of rowdy guys. However, it has the best experience in the world both academically and in social context.
In university, i expected to see strike notifications on the toilet walls and leaflets like we did in high school. Owe unto me when i learnt that in campus, a strike is announced publicly without fear or intimidation. That was a new one to me. To be frank, i was very scared because i thought that was equivalent to throwing stones at a police station. It was quite different from high school since students were making threats to the administration right on their noses.
Comrade Power,,, you respond power! with a lot of energy. The date was set and everything was ready to set the pace and match to the HELB offices. But before the story, here were the grievances that instigated our much awaited strike.
1. HELB was late (i have never been entitled to this loan and i have demonstrated the entire campus life for Helb which i dont recieve, ati comrade power)
2. The announced Mrs. Campus was not beautiful
3. Food prices were very high at the school canteen (i thought food issues ended in high school, i was wrong because even at my place of work food is a very big issue)
4. Campus elections were delayed (Politics will once kill Africans)
5. misappropriation of funds (to date i have never understood how i accused people of misappropriating funds without a single evidence or proof, just following what others said, peer pressure i bet)
6. for the fun of striking
The grievances were enough to substantiate a reason for taking to the streets and show the world that we are tough living things. There was room for adding your personal grievance; for example, there was a lady lecturer who annoyed me for wearing so skimpy and she spent half of the class applying oil on her skin and lipstick. I was very much excited that i was going to engage in a strike at a higher level. We usually called them educated-call of actions by the most educated members of the society (I am sorry to learn that we are not).
It was a sunny morning and the required pysch, morale, energy and attitude towards demonstration was smelt from far. Everybody was in the mood and the student union members were giving instructions as the media people flocked the school environs. I remembered that my parents occasionally watch TV News at a local hotel and they might bump with their son misbehavior. That is when i decided to camouflage and wear in such a way that i remained unnoticeable.
We were ready to hit the road...
To be continued tomorrow..
Tuesday, 11 November 2014
SOMEONE TELL SAFARICOM TO BAN FREE SMS...The Chronicles of a Fresha
Free Sms are tarnishing our intelligence making us look like clowns or mascots who have nothing to do, but to stare at their phones as if they are worshiping them. I find it funny how i seat with an extremely beautiful lady who can qualify to become Miss Uganda for nine consecutive years and i have nothing to say to her, even a simple hi. Reasons being, she is busy, not that she is washing utensils, completing assignments, arranging her work schedule or anything substantial, but staring at her phone like a nincompoop. When i talk of Sms i also include Watsapp, Viber, and the others. Please Note: they are not bad, the users are...
Today there no stories but real life observations that i have made (the free Sms were not introduced when i was a fresha one Sms costed 3 bob, so you can imagine). Technology has made us strangers because we are using it wrong, actually very wrong. Take this incidence for example, my cousin comes to visit all the way from upcountry, after ushering him in the house, i pick my laptop and my phone then go numb, it is a bad behavior.
When i said no stories, I lied! My friend has left our ribs aching by an incidence that made him jilt his relationship and hate all girls, huh. "Guys, guys look look at her see for yourself, she Watsapped me her image", he jabbed at us interrupting our tranquil moment on the torn second-hand sofas in our congested unfinished 1 bedroom in Roysambu with a parked blue Subaru outside (that is how Njoki Chege defines poor guys, for me i wish i would achieve this and my village would name as Njuri Ncheke member). If you don't follow Nairobi rumors, probably that joke isn't yours.
We tilted our faces concurrently as if we were evading a foul smell of fart from a skunk, to see the "magnificent girl." It is hard for me to appreciate girls, but for this one, she was blessed. We continued working on our laptops and exchanging mature talks of how one day we will buy a plot at Ruai (even wet dreams are valid). All that long our friend was tilted like a bow or the fishing rod just scrolling and replying to messages on his phone. it continued for hours, days, weeks,,, until he entered the, the most populated country after China and India, friend-zone. This is how...
Sms and Watsapp lie, a girl will promise you anything, create a scenario that will make you feel like you are the only man in a world of beautiful women and dogs. Ladies will pretend to be in your "box" by pampering you with sweat, romantic and sexy words, i hear they call it "sexting." For my friend, he was even given the cookie jar via text, they kissed, they cuddled, they undressed, they bedded, they visited each other's parents; however, through the texts. The relationship was growing strong that he could mistake my name with that girls name you know Vinnie and Winnie are related. His phone never left his hand even when he went to the bathroom, but he always told us when that girl will visit our lips will soak with saliva. We will be so jelous that we wish we concetrated on smsand watsapp than our work (what a fool).
"hayawi hayawi huwa" it was time for the love birds to meet physically, eye to eye, lip to lip, nail to nail, time to panda mbegu until potassium permanganate turns red, if you know what i mean. Feeling of ecstasy, mind preparations, spreading the bed and cleaning the house, preparing mayai for the requisite energy and going to the chemist to purchase the protective gear for this business, awaiting the guest of honor to arrive at around midday.
First mistake, she arrived at three, second mistake she was full and could not take what the guy had prepared. Ladies what do you take us for, for a man to cook it takes inspiration from the ancestors and then you shamelessly refuse to eat, God help you. She was introduced to the lonely ninjas as we were just sitting there salivating at her endorsed derriere. As ussual, we started leaving so that we can give them privacy, but she said "acheni kuenda natoka sa hii and if at all ningekaa hakuna kitu ingehapen so rudini." Let me stop at that...
free sms are promising you the moon up in the sky whereas they cant afford Bluemoon which is only at the counter. My fellow freshas, this is real, run boy run when there is time.
Today there no stories but real life observations that i have made (the free Sms were not introduced when i was a fresha one Sms costed 3 bob, so you can imagine). Technology has made us strangers because we are using it wrong, actually very wrong. Take this incidence for example, my cousin comes to visit all the way from upcountry, after ushering him in the house, i pick my laptop and my phone then go numb, it is a bad behavior.
When i said no stories, I lied! My friend has left our ribs aching by an incidence that made him jilt his relationship and hate all girls, huh. "Guys, guys look look at her see for yourself, she Watsapped me her image", he jabbed at us interrupting our tranquil moment on the torn second-hand sofas in our congested unfinished 1 bedroom in Roysambu with a parked blue Subaru outside (that is how Njoki Chege defines poor guys, for me i wish i would achieve this and my village would name as Njuri Ncheke member). If you don't follow Nairobi rumors, probably that joke isn't yours.
We tilted our faces concurrently as if we were evading a foul smell of fart from a skunk, to see the "magnificent girl." It is hard for me to appreciate girls, but for this one, she was blessed. We continued working on our laptops and exchanging mature talks of how one day we will buy a plot at Ruai (even wet dreams are valid). All that long our friend was tilted like a bow or the fishing rod just scrolling and replying to messages on his phone. it continued for hours, days, weeks,,, until he entered the, the most populated country after China and India, friend-zone. This is how...
Sms and Watsapp lie, a girl will promise you anything, create a scenario that will make you feel like you are the only man in a world of beautiful women and dogs. Ladies will pretend to be in your "box" by pampering you with sweat, romantic and sexy words, i hear they call it "sexting." For my friend, he was even given the cookie jar via text, they kissed, they cuddled, they undressed, they bedded, they visited each other's parents; however, through the texts. The relationship was growing strong that he could mistake my name with that girls name you know Vinnie and Winnie are related. His phone never left his hand even when he went to the bathroom, but he always told us when that girl will visit our lips will soak with saliva. We will be so jelous that we wish we concetrated on smsand watsapp than our work (what a fool).
"hayawi hayawi huwa" it was time for the love birds to meet physically, eye to eye, lip to lip, nail to nail, time to panda mbegu until potassium permanganate turns red, if you know what i mean. Feeling of ecstasy, mind preparations, spreading the bed and cleaning the house, preparing mayai for the requisite energy and going to the chemist to purchase the protective gear for this business, awaiting the guest of honor to arrive at around midday.
First mistake, she arrived at three, second mistake she was full and could not take what the guy had prepared. Ladies what do you take us for, for a man to cook it takes inspiration from the ancestors and then you shamelessly refuse to eat, God help you. She was introduced to the lonely ninjas as we were just sitting there salivating at her endorsed derriere. As ussual, we started leaving so that we can give them privacy, but she said "acheni kuenda natoka sa hii and if at all ningekaa hakuna kitu ingehapen so rudini." Let me stop at that...
free sms are promising you the moon up in the sky whereas they cant afford Bluemoon which is only at the counter. My fellow freshas, this is real, run boy run when there is time.
Wednesday, 5 November 2014
I AM APPEARING IN A SONG VIDEO....The Chronicles of a fresha continues
You have ever wished in your life to appear on TV even if its just a snippet view once. Everybody loves fame, attention, and a little pride, we are human beings. I have occasionally seen people who make me watch a song/advert or just a video recording repeatedly so that i can see them. The situation is always like..."peleka mbele kidogo,,aa umepita, rewind kiasi, tena kidogo,,apo apo apo pause..unaona huyo mtu ako na T-shirt ya blue uko nyuma...sasa nyuma yake ni mimi." its stressing even to identify them but they have to insist that you re-watch until you see them. I won't blame you coz i am a victim. However, i saw my friend on Jicho Pevu #TheKanyariSaga but she has refused to admit that she is the one up to now.
"Vinnie, get ready because i am shooting a video for my song and i want you to appear on it, wee ni mtu wangu siezi kusahau," my fresha friend said bragging-ly. These were the best news, it was like receiving blessing from Pastor Kanyari without the Mbegu ya 310 or an M-Pesa of 5,000 from an unknown number. After the anxiety replenished, i went back to my friend and asked. "ati umesema tunashoot vida" he replied positively but i was not through with him. "sasa nikumaanisha nitakua kwa video yako, az in ukishoot video nitakua, hio ni kumaanisha nitatokea kwa TV," one question in a million styles. He got bored by the rhetoric questions just like you and you are only reading.
The next step involved preparation for the big party, bragging to my friends on how i will appear on TV soon. If twitter was alive, hashtag #vinnieakokwavideo could be trending, but it only made it on my Facebook updates. Everyone became envious, you know freshaz think a celebrity is a person from another planet. That is why we could meet a Tahidi High actor on the street and stand for a whole hour discussing him or her, loudly. They are human beings just like us, acting is their employment just like mjengo is to me. We could admire them and even update our Facebook status, "hanging out with Eric Omondi" and you did not even manage to say hi. This behavior sucks, let celebs live their lives just like normal people.
The cast members were ready, i had chosen the right outfit for my celebrity inaugural day. TV here i come, this video will be the talk of the town, i would soon be on everybody's lips. Oh God, you would think i was the composer or the artist of the song. Plans went on well and by ten in the morning we were on location. Cameras were set, the production team was ready, and the anxiety even grew bigger.
However, i smelled a rat, something was not very right, maybe left. The hotel was so cozy and resembled a bossy lifestyle. I thought drinks and food were catered for i even came from the hostel empty stomach. My friend never try that, i staid hungry for 7 hours. Secondly, the producer had come with another crew that seemed stylish and camera friendly than we looked. I hear they are called video vixens. That did not worry me much, after all the artist "ni mtu wangu."
We did what had brought us, and lights were on, cameras rolling, music flowing and change of clothes every now and then, i had only carried a pair, so i could not change. One thing that bored mi is the repetition of scenes, Cut, cut, action, no take another shot, Gosh they were boring why cant they just take one song in 30 minutes and leave. After all, a song lasts only 3 minutes. All in all the day was over.
The following day i was already asking my fresha-artist whether the video was out. Gosh its only a day, he replied angrily. This was a daily routine for at least two months, my hopes died. But when they were about to be buried, the producer called him with good news, my hopes resurrected before their burial. We rushed to town to pick the song, no more classes today, but showing people the video. Unfortunately, we reviewed the song around 15 times without a sneak view of Vinnie in the video. I was edited, the video vixens took almost the entire show, but i could see the color of my shirt in a scene that shown a large crew of people from far. I could not believe i wasted my class time rehearsing on how to appear on a video in vain. I cant stop crying, but my dreams are still valid. If you continue reading my stories on my blog vinniewatz.blogspot.com, i will appear on the Trend
Wednesday, 29 October 2014
TULIANZA NA KASELFIE
I just cannot believe i am up this late updating my blog that receives very many visitors or traffic which is approximately zero people in total. God give me a sign like DMX. I was also listening to Cha Tolle AFterhours show on Capital, will it ever come to a day that she will listen to me or read my blog. This world is unfair for real....arggg what a dream, i must be dreaming ati Chao reading my blog, what a joke?... sorry my readers i was dozing off, but lets get down to business...
Here is the second part of exam cheating case...i was in deep, hot, and smearing shit, yeah i know its slippery...
A bag on my hand, my answer sheet is missing and the teacher is coming towards my position at a supersonic speed. My heart has beaten many times in desperation moments, but in this case, it was ringing or sounding like an alarm. This teacher had given harsh warning prior to the start of the exam to anybody tempted to use unscrupulous methods of passing exams that severe consequences would follow. He had cautioned us against copying exam and the punishment amounted to cancellation of your exams and ex-communication from the institution. Poor vinnie who was the only college boy in the village, who collected funds for school from the village church, the chief, Chama Cha Wamama in the village, and tax collected by the chief from illegal liquor. Being sent away from school would mean being a disgrace to the entire village that boasted of taking a person to college, you would think they had taken me to the moon. At this moment, the teacher was approaching and his intention were clearly not good. He was a tough teacher to an extent that he did not require an assistance in monitoring the exam.
On the other hand, the lady i was trying to help was in full panic and she was sweating from her thumbs to her tits. Yes i could see her nipples based on the top she was wearing and when men look at ladies those are the first places that receive men's eye-contact. This lady was crazy,,, not even crazy, but mad, absolutely out of her mind. Imagine she was handing the answer sheet back in the full glare of the lecturer. Have you ever heard the reggae song that says, from a frying pan into burning fire, okay, that summarizes my situation. I was like meat in the mincer with hungry men and women glaring at it. The entire class went numb. I know they were sympathizing with me other than one guy i had his debt of 500 Kshs (i have never paid to date). I know he was praying the teacher to catch me, he had crossed his fingers based on the look on his grin.. did his prayers work..?imagine yes
"Just come with your bag with a good explanation why you are exchanging papers with this lady, and in possession of other materials in the exam room, immediately," the teacher said angrily. Now I am the sacrificial lamb, being crucified for my kind heart of helping. The beatitudes in the Bible says the kind in heart will...will..aaa forget it, whatever. I cannot imagine my education was ending just because i took a risk for a lazy person who never revised for exams and attended classes.
MMMHHH being a drama student really helps because your intelligence is way above than that of Michael Gishangi. "Teacher, the bag fell from where it was hang, hit me, and i was returning it back. in the process, my answer sheet slid and now this lady was returning it back, teacher this is bag belongs to a lady, what the hell could be doing with it," i convinced him. Contented with my argument, the teacher turned back and continued supervising the exam..niliponea chupi chupi...did my friend's prayer work...imagine yes they did not (that is what i meant)
Here is the second part of exam cheating case...i was in deep, hot, and smearing shit, yeah i know its slippery...
A bag on my hand, my answer sheet is missing and the teacher is coming towards my position at a supersonic speed. My heart has beaten many times in desperation moments, but in this case, it was ringing or sounding like an alarm. This teacher had given harsh warning prior to the start of the exam to anybody tempted to use unscrupulous methods of passing exams that severe consequences would follow. He had cautioned us against copying exam and the punishment amounted to cancellation of your exams and ex-communication from the institution. Poor vinnie who was the only college boy in the village, who collected funds for school from the village church, the chief, Chama Cha Wamama in the village, and tax collected by the chief from illegal liquor. Being sent away from school would mean being a disgrace to the entire village that boasted of taking a person to college, you would think they had taken me to the moon. At this moment, the teacher was approaching and his intention were clearly not good. He was a tough teacher to an extent that he did not require an assistance in monitoring the exam.
On the other hand, the lady i was trying to help was in full panic and she was sweating from her thumbs to her tits. Yes i could see her nipples based on the top she was wearing and when men look at ladies those are the first places that receive men's eye-contact. This lady was crazy,,, not even crazy, but mad, absolutely out of her mind. Imagine she was handing the answer sheet back in the full glare of the lecturer. Have you ever heard the reggae song that says, from a frying pan into burning fire, okay, that summarizes my situation. I was like meat in the mincer with hungry men and women glaring at it. The entire class went numb. I know they were sympathizing with me other than one guy i had his debt of 500 Kshs (i have never paid to date). I know he was praying the teacher to catch me, he had crossed his fingers based on the look on his grin.. did his prayers work..?imagine yes
"Just come with your bag with a good explanation why you are exchanging papers with this lady, and in possession of other materials in the exam room, immediately," the teacher said angrily. Now I am the sacrificial lamb, being crucified for my kind heart of helping. The beatitudes in the Bible says the kind in heart will...will..aaa forget it, whatever. I cannot imagine my education was ending just because i took a risk for a lazy person who never revised for exams and attended classes.
MMMHHH being a drama student really helps because your intelligence is way above than that of Michael Gishangi. "Teacher, the bag fell from where it was hang, hit me, and i was returning it back. in the process, my answer sheet slid and now this lady was returning it back, teacher this is bag belongs to a lady, what the hell could be doing with it," i convinced him. Contented with my argument, the teacher turned back and continued supervising the exam..niliponea chupi chupi...did my friend's prayer work...imagine yes they did not (that is what i meant)
Thursday, 23 October 2014
TULIANZA NA KA-SELFIE,, Fresha
By the way when i was a fresha, selfies were not invented; actually, very few phones had strong cameras. The one hit wonder phone idiot oops IDEOS had been introduced to the market and you could only afford it after receiving HELB, but ours had delayed (you see why demonstration over the loan wont end). Believe you me, men we are the same idiots that were tricked by Eve in the garden of Eden (if at all you ever came across Christianity in your upbringing). I also hear that they used a woman to capture our hero Dedan Kimathi among other examples you already know. I am also a victim...
During my fresha years, life was not a silver lining or a bed of roses, but a bed of acacia and baobab trees (that can make you imagine the size of the challenges i faced). Without further ogre tales and the hare and hyena stories, dear readers this what happened.
It was during our first exam in our premiere semester in the higher learning institution. I had prepared adequately, although business students we didn't read much due to the qualitative learning technique. By the way all those guys who said BA (business administration) meant Being Around because you were undertaking engineering courses; shame on you. We are all tarmacking being bracketed in the 40% group of unemployed people in Kenya.
The exam atmosphere was filled in the room as students scrambled for strategic seating places so that they can utilize their exam skills, if you know what i mean. I sat near a lady who was completely blank and she was not contemplating what was going on. She looked at me with these dried eyes that were imploring for my help. However, the teacher's eyes were sternly looking at us and i knew i could not help. Within some instance, the teacher rushed out to receive a call. It was an opportune moment to help my neighbor based on the begging eyes; it was exactly one hour since the exam started and she had not jolted anything apart from her name. When i decided to help her, she made such a request that haunts me to date.
"Pass me my bag please i have to remove my notes," she said. This was a crazy idea so i hesitated, but she convinced me; strength of a woman you know. I woke up and stretched to the windows where we hanged our bags as we did our exams. I heard some papers screeching from my background, when i looked backed. The lady had snatched my answer booklet to copy and paste my knowledge. That was robbery without violence of my hard acquired knowledge (just kidding, degree ni harambee lazima watu wasaidiane). The room was silent and i could see my classmate looking at me in a manner that suggested there was looming danger. From the corner of my eye, i could see the teacher jetting back to class and i realized i was in deep shit. I am standing, holding a bag, and my answer sheet is missing. Three clear evidence that amount to cheating, that is a felony in college, it is worse than the Oscar Pistorius case. I knew i was dead,,but i had to act, and act fast...
to be continued...nimesikia usingizi its past midnight...mayne i gotta sleep.
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