Of The Untold Campus Tale

 Having wound my life in campus,i felt that it was great to highlight some of the most common and uncommon scenarios that happen in these god forsaken institutions of higher learning where love is cheap than a bread and at the same time costly as one's life. To survive there,you have to learn to wear different cloaks at the same time. You have to be religious and a party freak. You have to read and relax. You have to follow the masses and be a loner. You have to choose your drug and let it kill you.

As a naive first year student from a tiny village in the sloppy lands bordering Mount Kenya,i was admitted in one of the biggest and prestigious(in quotes) universities in Kenya in 2014 to take a course that i liked not and as fate would have it,after so much swearing that i would change the course as soon as i set foot in the institution,the gods had decided that i had to be a teacher and a teacher i would be. A village cockerel does not crow in town so the old adage goes. As soon as i set foot in the cold town of Eldoret,i was welcomed by being conned by a cart pusher. I had to part with three hundred shillings after my bag was ferried for about a hundred and fifty metres by a guy.

As soon as i arrived at the Main Stage in Eldoret,i struggled to stop conductors from taking my suitcase to unknown vehicles with little success. I pleaded with them to let go of my bag as i looked at boards which are always placed on the roofs of matatus indicating where or the routes the matatu plies. I looked like a lost child looking for it's mother in a big market. Finally, i got a good conductor who directed me to the vehicle i i would board and he assured me that it would drop me in the institution i too much looked forward to joining. I paid three hundred shillings and got a ticket and calmly sat in the vehicle as i waited for passengers to fill the empty sits. All this time i was becoming impatient because in the admission letter there had been a strict warning that admission would end at  five o'clock and it was already four.

After thirty minutes or so,i became impatient and asked the woman sitting next to me, "Is Moi far from here?" The woman looked bewildered and asked,"Are you going to Moi?" To Which i answered "Yes!" Would i have asked if that was not where i was going?

She asked me" And what are you doing in a matatu going to Nakuru?" This raised an uproar in the matatu because most of the passangers were old enough to be my parents and they definately sympathised with me like they would have done with their kids. They confronted the conductors for having lied to a 'school kid' and demanded that my fare be refunded. The lady at the ticket office was very infuriated by me now that she was losing her three hundred and as a result she declined to refund the whole amount. She gave me two hundred shillings and told me to be keen the next time i am boarding vehicles. I was later directed to MU 84 Sacco Matatus that Ply the Moi-Eldoret route. 

The journey was longer than i expected-from Eldoret town to Kesses. Being the first time i was in Eldoret,i thought it was a few minutes journey but to my surprise,it wasn't. After a tiresome journey where passengers were packed in the vehicle like a sack of potatoes from the fertile lands of Nyandarua on transit to Nairobi,we finally saw a big Board with Writings in Green,Red and White "Moi University. Karibu Umefika" thinking that i had arrived,we went for more than fifty metres before we finally alighted the vehicle. By the time i was getting to Moi,it was already past five meaning i would not be admitted on that day and i would therefore have no place to lay my head. Stranded,i asked directions to The School of ASS(Arts and Social Sciences) and was directed. By sheer luck,i i found a guy in the school who was speaking the same language as i and he was willing to help me get a place to sleep on that day.

I later met a few confused and questionable guys who'd later turn out to be best of friends. One was Simon Ngige. The guy had an impeccable sheng and used to dress in a certain black three piece suit which i could only dream of affording. He also owned a good sharp shooter which  matched well with the suit. Fascinatingly,the guy never attended classes and when he saw me in one of the Literature classes,he approached me and asked if i could lend him my note book. I was a bit reluctant and was used to conning by then and i thought that he might as well vanish with my book. With my big heart,i lent him the book. We would later become great friends and brothers. It is good to note that the guy was a great entreprenuer and was never in school during the weekends.

Eric Mugambi. Another man who owned a suit and an awesome blue fitting  shirt which he wore to class frequently. He had tufted hair which was never cut at the front but clean shaven on the sides and the back. Like the former,he never used to have notes and he one day approached me and asked if i could give him my note book to update his notes which i did and it became a habit. I would give him my notes and later go to look for him in his room only to find him gone to play football during the lecture which i was supposed to have the book. He had a deep Meru accent,you would think Kiraitu Murungi was his father. Thank God by the time he was leaving,the accent had been polished and he could throw a few " definately" and "most probably" without shrubbing. I would later become his room mate and learn a lot from him including never licking peoples b...

There was this fellow who used to walk as if his shoes had springs such that you'd think every time he stepped on earth,he was thrust upwards. His Name was Ian Sitati. Sitati was a funny man. He would never answer a question in class even if he knew the answer. He agreed with everything that was said in group discussions with the phrase 'ni hivo tu umesema'. I do not remember how i met this one. To most he was an introvert but to me and my friends he was an open guy. His silence can be mistaken for weakness. We had an ingrained habit of calling him any name that sounded Luhya and those of great characters in Novels varying  from Ezeulu,Wepukhulu,Wambirianga,..He had humbly agreed and laughed off these names,knowing that resisting them would have resulted in them sticking. It is an old trick. He bragged about his uncle who was a professor and a dean in the school of Engineering and How Luhyas are the most educated in Moi. Sighting Doctors,Deans and professors. He was a simple guy whose English and writing skills i admire to date and many would struggle to reach his level.

I was not a friend to males only. To give friendship taste,i had a good number of female friends. Laura Kubano was one of them.  An iron lady that was more close to me and my friends and her female friends kept wondering how possible it was to have male friends. To this she would reply "no drama,no expectations and we got each other's backs" .Aften joint lunches and suppers,we would enjoy her services of washing our week long unwashed utensils. It does not mean that the friendship was exploitative though.Like a lioness,she came through with jibes and that female mouth that is very essential during arguments and when one of the crew members was touched. 

Sharon Okwiri,also known as Sharz. One of the crazy friends which in unlikely scenarios life thows your way. Known for her love of dholuo and a between child like and young girls shapely body,she was cheekiest of my friends. Out of this closeness it was inevitable for rumours to start circulating,claiming that we were dating. Heaven knows we weren't. I still haven't forgiven her though for the one day she lied to me that Good Night in dholuo is 'Bi Pekna',and trying to 'floss' with my new earned comprehension of a new langue told a lady so. Among others was Cindy Adede,a close friend to Sharz,with her hearty laughter and beautiful eyes,Rose Wafula a soft spoken lady that had a big heart to mention but a few.

I was acquainted to many friends,both male and female,church goers and heathens,young and old and every one of them played an important role. Hooking me for a social joint,reminding me of unsubmitted assignment, calling me to go to church and church groups. To all of you,you have indelible imprints in my heart.

But whenever and wherever  you meet an almnus of Moi university,greet them,hug them tight and if you got a few bucks to spare,buy them a cold beer because that one,that one,is one hell of a place!!