I’d be a damned Blogger if i never write this story!
But i am not, so here we go.
Every semester, there is a student Hostel that literally wikas. That, is, in simple-complex English- IT HAPPENS. Here, you’re either a ‘mamas’ boy (live in School) hostel, or are ‘daring’ enough to live in the jungle called ‘Off-Campus’. I, in all my wisdom, chose the latter- and everyday, i got a tale. Anyway, when i was a freshman, a hostel called Runda,did call the shots.One Friday,a guy hired a whole DeeJaying unit complete with the lights and set up the craziest bashment i had seen. Complete with free drinks and warembo ivi, t’waz the first time i got lucky- though details still remain scant in my memory
However, for most of my stay here, i avoid hot spots. I prefer to feel the heat from outside.
Along came Vegas
Now, as last Semester drew to a class, word went round, on a new hostel that would have facilities ranging from a swimming pool to a student center- all in one location. It sent jitters, because, since the days of a certain Bright Night hostel (’90s- i was not there!!) , no one had ever built such. I must give props to the marketing skills of this guy, because, soon as Jan Sem came by, all party hoppers were rushing to fill in the rooms – and trust me, they’re all FULL.
Not even the fact that a swimming pool is not about to be built; everything else compensates for that.
Like PIMP Houses
First, you can survive a whole week here w/out a coin in your pocket and you’ll drink, shag, change clothes, eat and sleep. It’s not as easy as that, but the currency is your people skills.
Vegans, as i’ve noted are whole lot of different students. Life Begins at 8pm EVERYDAY and ends at 8 a.m. the following day. A joke was going about that the owner knew about this that he switches off the generator at 8 a.m., switches it off at 8 p.m., Vegas style. Be it a Wednesday, or Friday, drinks flow and girls do what they do best.
Some other night, i was at this guys crib who has decorated his hall like a Pimp house. The lights are blue and read and a thao and one bulb circle about the room, bed, bathroom – i even wondered if he reads?
But this is Vegas, and classes are as Alien as abstinence on a Stag night.
I have several hundreds word to fill, but i have to rush and check somebody out now.
And his name is NewToad.
They say that a camel is a horse made by a committee.
Observing what group work produces, all the doubts disappear on the possibility of the above. Today, i was listening to a pal who was looking for some information from me. Well, this surprised me as Biggie (the guy), is ever at Pioneer(Campus Makuti Watering Hole). His talk mostly revolves around weed, booze and questions to reality. This day, as he explains, tables had turned, and he was a group leader. Well, i’m not doubting his intelligence but Henry Wanyoike (the blind marathoner) could as well win the Safari Rally. Thinking about the attitude of the rest is another story altogether.
See, when it comes to group work, campus class experience would teach you to choose your members wisely – in case you are concerned about grades. And most students are concerned enough to slip in their name and student number (with a biro) when the printed projected paper is to be handed over.
Focused Chaps and the no-nonsense kind
Severally i’ve sneaked in my name under a group i didn’t even belong. Even so, i still hold a certain disapproval for group work. If you be a lazy bone,it’s easier to get along when you are with some focused chaps, chicks especially, marveling at your ‘carefree’ lifestyle enough to ‘understand’ why you never attend meetings or produce any work. Actually, some go ahead to call you up when the group is meeting – and mostly, the story doesn’t end there. On the other hand, there are no-non sense types that will NOT put up your name if you miss but one group meeting. But some how, guys still navigate through this.
As for jokers, when the meeting time is set, all agree and even go ahead to ask about the venue. On the material day, no one turns up and things move on as usual, till the assignment is due. On the eve of that day, some group mates who are pals call each other up and compile something quickly (Via Google) and leave out the cover page (to bear names) for printing, minutes to class time. Incidentally, this is the morning the printer jams, the server is down, or your flash catches a deadly virus and all work is lost.
Lecturers have a list of these excuses, and few hearken to them – but students are students, new excuses prop up by the day.
Other Side of G Work
But there is the other side of group work (not when all are friends- still, nothing gets really done) when you meet new people (read chicks) and things happen. I’ve my best and worst from these and school work and pleasure never mixed better. I’ll tell one of the tales, when the coast is safer.
Oh, and last year, there was a wedding between two lovebirds who met at an Environment Class group. Talk about not changing ‘your environment’.
Group work has some benefits too – besides churning out mediocre stuff (when everyone thinks their idea is the geratest)- especially when small ideas die.
But nothing ever GREAT has ever been born there.
Which reminds me, due, was an group assignment which yours truly was to compile and send via email…i’ve just begun thinking about out, procrastination will surely slot it for a good sunny day.
First published here.
They had just read from the Book of Phyllis, Chapter 10, where it did state: Thou shall never pass the Ammo, before thee, praised Lord Pickles.
The words pierced his ears and wormed their way into his brain, triggering confusing emotions. Thoughts of what lay ahead whipped his sorry-self into jelly, so much that his knee caps clapped.
Without warning, a warm liquid made its way down his short pants, caressed his legs as it streamed down, giving a good-hot feeling that gently lifted his soul- the perfect escape he had..
Beret-heads turned, in unison, making a discipline shuffle.
A cold wind whizzed by his bare legs and his eyes, previously lost in the moment, came to life, like stadium flood lights:
A pool had formed below his legs.
Fear, shame inexplicable feelings meshed in his heart, crushed out all his functions, except that to breathe- short, hot puffs that expanded his nose, making it resemble two smoking barrels. Images formed in his shrinking mind, as the sweltering sun scalded his forehead, melting any possible ideas from his buttered mind…
A distant command, sounded again and the sound of thumping boots filled the atmosphere before grinding to a sudden halt, raising dust on the clean concrete.
His face, a wedding cake in the rain, fell, as the flag begun to rise.
“Oh, God of all Creatures…” a trembling terrible tenor came alive, joining his heart’s hue and cry-
All faces, taut as the mouth yapped the anthem, were facing upward, in a compelling patriotic union.
On the small puddle beneath, the boy caught a reflection of the flag as it reached the peak of the pole.
I like to imagine you’re mine.
Head back, eyes closed, speaking a secret language. I fixate on your perfect lips and full moon eyes: the places your thoughts hide. I imagine your words, your voice, your skin. Then startle at the fluttering of shadows, forget to breathe. But it’s not you; it’s just the hungry branches of trees.