Choose one; Either Muso CRC or Opposition

BY NYAMWEYA BW'OMARI

In the recent past, about a month ago, Main Campus politics took a twist after signatures (to oust The 25^th SGC) ‘started’ to be collected by a group which later identified itself as the ‘opposition’. As it later came to emerge, the mission seemed impossible and the group had to change tact and ‘started’ now to review the old Muso Katiba—which is amongst the noblest ideas any opposition has ever thought of.

Remember that in Moi University there should be no opposition; at least according to the Green Book and the old Muso Katiba. In short, the opposition is an illegal entity in Moi University though morally it is very legal.

Currently, the Muso Constitutional Review Committee (MCRC) is underway with the redrafting of the old Muso Katiba but there is only one hitch. I have failed to understand the difference between the opposition and the MCRC. Every time I watch Campus headlines I’m sadly met with headlines like ‘Opposition takes the day as The 25^th SGC take the night’ et cetera et cetera and the same names I see quoted under opposition are the same ones quoted under the MCRC!

The other hitch is that this opposition started at a regrettably high pitch that they literary dragged everybody to its ‘activism’: campus media, religious organizations, individual students and non-interested parties! This led to what was to be known as Campus Disillusionment. May be they were doing activism and may be they were objective.

This opposition then moved fast to fast-track the Muso Katiba amendment/review changing its name to MCRC—Muso Constitution Review Committee. Under this entity they should have known that they were now leaders and had to abstain from their previous activisms. Unfortunately they did not thus confusing the masses the more.

At one point they are bargaining for fare dis-increments, crying for the mis-management of the Muso institution and at another we see them speaking under the MCRC!

I will refer them to take lessons from activist Okiya Okoiti Omtatah. He should not at any one point be a Mutunga, a Keriako or even a Muthaura. And if he does, then he should cease his activeness in activism and start being a leader. Either way, everybody has the right to be what he wants, but not every time. Can you figure out Okiya Omtatah being the VC Moi and at the same time leading our ‘we go, we gos’ (Kamukunjis cum demonstrations)?

Let the 13 Commissioners choose to divorce one job and uplift the other. They cannot be a wife with TWO husbands. Alternatively let them separate one job until the circumcision of the Muso Katiba is through.

The ball is in your court Mr. Collins Bett (Chairperson MCRC) and we expect a smooth running hoping that nobody is eager to derail the Commission’s mandate and work; of course except the few comrades who don’t want change in Moi. File the divorce or separation case immediately.

Once you do that I know people will gain more confidence in the Committee and they will work hand in hand with ‘you’ to restore sanity in the Moi Muso System.

Do have an opposition-free week, I know you will!

ONE ON ONE WITH MAALIM SALAT

BY JELLY KIHARA

For the last three semesters, the cantabile Shamba Boy (humour column) has been one of the most read articles of The 3^rd Eye publications. Meet the author, Maalim Salat, as he tells Jay K more about this eye catching column that has attracted readership within campus and at times a rebuke from some of his tribesmen.

Jay: Who is Maalim Salat?

MS: Maalim Salat is a young man aged 23, born in Garissa, brought up and educated in Nairobi. He is a social and goal oriented guy who does not discriminate friends on grounds of religion or tribe. In short, a Wahome Mutahi in the making (smiles).

Jay: When did you start writing?

MS: I started writing jokes and funny anecdotes when I was in standard seven. In 2007 I was appointed the first editor of SMACDAT, a Starehe Muslim Association Publication, but the Shamba Boy series is the first continuous writing that I ever did. In 2009 I wrote the best selling Kiswahili-Kisomali translation book- it is a popular book among the Somali adults who try to learn Swahili language for the first time. Writing has been, is, and will be my religion.

Jay: (I like your spirit.) How is campus writing?

MS: Campus writing is a training ground for young writers and also a way of the latter to express their feelings.

Jay: Why did you decide to start writing this column?

Ms: I decided to start writing the Shamba Boy column because I felt that there was a need to express the students’ feelings in a humorous way. If you read any of my articles, you will find that behind the ushamba lies a grievances of a Moi University student. For example I wrote about the reasons why the Shamba Boy will die soon because he was a student at the School of Human Resource Development, in that article the Shamba Boy highlighted the problems the students at that school faces.

In another one, I wrote about when the Shamba Boy dreamt that he died and was to be tortured in a ‘hell with a difference’ and how the torture paraphernalia were not available in that hell. The story represented the constant blackouts in Hostel J and H, and also the lack of seats at LT4. Every Shamba Boy article represents us as the Moi University students but in a humorous way.

Jay: Now because you write from a Somali’s village boy perspective, how do they take it?

MS: Well, not all of them take it personal. However, there are few of them who miss the point and think that I am insulting them in my articles simply because I use the first person narrative but that is not the case.

Jay: Do your readers understand that your work is an artist’s mere fiction?

MS: From the comments, compliments and criticism I receive after the article is published, I conclude that most of the readers understand my work as fiction but occasionally some friends call me Shamba Boy and others say that what I write is what I do. Those who do not understand the connotative meaning of my articles, I encourage them to re-read them from The 3^rd Eye blog and understand.

Jay: What would you like your readers to understand?

MS: That the Shamba Boy is a humour column that entertains while at the same time airs their grievances. I do not target any community: my articles are neutral and I am not a Shamba Boy. I am following the footsteps of my role model, the late Wahome Mutahi, who used his humour column – Whispers, as a voice for the common Kenyan at a time when Kenyans could only whisper their grievances against the government. Like I do, he also used the first person narrative.

Jay: What is in store for your audience?

MS: There is much more. My character, the Shamba Boy is now in third year. It will be over by next semester. After that, there will be a Mama’s Boy series, the same as the Shamba Boy but the character will be from a rich background.

Jay: (That’s awesome) Parting shot to campus writers?

MS: Let there be no fear in their hearts as they write. They are the voice of the students in Moi University. They may be intimidated but let them write the truth. Even Wangari Maathai and Wahome Mutahi were jailed and tortured but by the end they remain our heroes. God bless you all!

Jay: Thank you and keep going bro!

LET’S TALK ‘SMOKING’

BY ELIZABETH MURIITHI

George D. Prentice once said, “Much smoking kills live men and cures dead swine.”

During my 1^st year of study, as is the norm around this place, my fellow freshas and I attended a Drugs Sensitisation meeting where we were reliably informed on the adverse effects of smoking. However, one thing that still rings in my ears to date from that meeting, was the announcement that smoking in public within the campus premises was highly prohibited. Therefore, the sight of comrades engaging in a puff publicly, except during kadundas (Friday night dances) was quite an oddity.

Much to Mother Nature’s dismay, this is no longer the case. Puffs of white smoke from the nostrils of various comrades can be seen making their way through the air from various sections of the campus, especially at the Student’s Centre as early as from 8:00 am. Not to mention the bhang and tobacco odour that lingers on, miles away from the smoking joints. Moreover, it has been reported that bhang fumes are nowadays occasionally smelt in various hostels, such as Hostel L and even Hostel J; a ladies’ hostel.

So where does all this leave the non-smokers and the asthmatic students? Where do they run to so as to find solace from the pangs of humiliation from the smokers? Should they just accept their new found status as passive smokers or should they fight for their own rights as non-smokers since no one has flinched a muscle to voice their voiceless souls?

Speaking to The 3rd Eye via her face book account, Muso Health Director, Patricia Tuwei stated that she was aware that the number of students smoking in public was increasing by the day, thus putting the health of the other students at risk. When asked what action she had taken so far as the Health Director in order to contain the situation, she stated that she had been planning to post memos on the notice boards so as to warn the students smoking in public to desist from doing so. However, she did not give a definite date as to when the memos would be out and she could not give a concrete reason as to why it had taken so long for any action to be taken, bearing in mind that the situation is randomly aggravating by the day.

Whether these memos will actually be posted on various notice boards around campus and if at all they will be effective enough in ensuring that students no longer smoke in public are issues that can only be left to be seen. Taking a sigh of relief at this point seems more of a mirage for most non-smokers.

What’s more is that establishing smoking zones doesn’t seem to feature anywhere in the Director’s plan of action.

This and that gets my pants down in Hostel J

BY DAVID MWITARI

Thief! Thief! Thief! A choir chanting rented the air in the streets of Hostel J, meeting a mighty threshold I could not have imagined of. ugly beings erupted from nowhere to defend their territory as I lay down with no guts to recollect myself. Some cursed me of ruining their healthy dreams with the minister of finance who had come to sort out their drying wallets. Others thought I had ended their contract with their sweethearts.

With my tear gas canister language, I will be forced to start feeding on the tail for you to understand how I ended in this and that. It was on a kadunda morning when an agent of mututho, mama pima, had invited me for one gorogoro of yokozuna brew to beat hangover— our worst enemy, since I had taken a canter the previous night. This was despite the fact that I had to rush to Sinai area to siphon oil which was spilling in rivers on a special call from my uncle who coordinates our activities and a CEO with our Kamua Oil Siphoning Limited (KOSL): for your information he is a veteran truck driver.

At the Mabatini joint, one gorogoro led to another until the sun went down the Ngeria forest, with everyone singing the drunkards hymns of “hakuna mwingine kama mututho….” At midnight, we walked out demanding for Al-Mashoka the menace but when we heard the colleagues from Sulpuric Acid Gullopers (SAG) from Frakaz, Chambers, and the latest Trendz who take The Rich In For Greatness ‘A’ brand beer (TRIGA), we had to switch on the silencer in our mouths since they would probably tease us for the yokozuna in us smelt like chlorine gas. Moreover, Mama Pima had housed Onyancha, Ocampo and the most wanted Muhamar Gaddafi. Hence, guess with me, I would be hunted as Al-Mashoka.

When we reached Hostel J where Mama Pima lives, I chewed blackout where she left me after I acted like a Besigye to Museveni. I awoke the other maidens with screams who came and turned against me.

It started with Abigal Abwasi, “huyu anakuwanga pick-pocket, aliniibia phone kwa wakanai bus, tumchome.” Abwasi is my classmate in the School of Rocket Science. I could not believe it!

Another beautiful lady, Tobinataulo, spoke more objectively, “huyu ni lady-guitar and a choir master with ‘tutapewa hata mkizima taa’ at the busaa den in Mabatini. anahitaji maombi.”

This prompted me to think she could make a good wife for my brother who is a minister in our ministry.

I wanted to ask Jusfa to take her number when Hanifa Faulu from Murogoro interrupted, “ni fan wa Arsenal and Gor Mahia, sikia vyenye ananuka kama Fume chamber. Haki woishe! Atatoroka!”

This is where Jusfa my spy agent defended me: “Jorodani is high-ri, hata Mama pima anajua hakunywagi deni, yeye hulipa pap! Tumlipieni fare arudi ‘in the land where the horizon is the end of the earth’.

When I woke up the following morning, I realized I was an hour late for a CAT!!!

The Plight of a University Student

BY WESONGA QUINTAS

Having made it to University through whichever means is one of the greatest achievements for most of us. It feels so nice to be called a comrade. This explains why every High school student including one who has scored a D plain in Mock exams will always have a dream of joining university one day. However, this prestigious title comes with so many complications:

To begin with, is the much coveted HELB money which gives us a lot of support. Where the problem comes in is that the amount remains constant for the whole academic period and yet the cost of living is rising day in day out. One still gets the same amount he used to get four or five years ago when the price of sugar was 62 bob as compared to the current shocking 220 bob. To make it worse, the loans Board deducts Ksh.500 each year while the bank makes a further deduction in the name of remittance fee.

The society then makes life of a comrade even tougher. Prices for basic commodities in campus are deliberately higher than in other places. This behavior is at its peak at Moi University. All these business people know is that university student have money. They imagine that that if one is not given a government loan, then he/she is a PSSP student and must be rich. Simply how else do they manage the high school fees? I wish these enterprising men and women knew the reality of who exactly a comrade is and how they make ends meet. May be we should stop putting on these suits and expensive jeans and hair so that they can see the point am putting across.

For those of my type who come from the villages, things are the worst. If you apply for bursary, you can only be considered last just because ‘you have money.’ Furthermore, because of being at university, you will be expected to give advice on every matter in the village. They imagine you are a genius. You are to help repair all T.V’s, motor bikes and watches and explain to the people what is going on at the Hague including names of all the judges and the lawyers involved in the case plus the countries they come from and still ensure there are no school drop outs in the village .All children must follow your way to university and you must be a role model.

It does not just stop there. When the local primary school Head teacher has ‘misused’ the FPE funds, you will be expected to be an auditor and estimate whether the classroom that was constructed is worth the said amount. If you conclude that the head teacher was right, you are in trouble. Those who want family planning will find your home a destination not forgetting those who carelessly block their SIM cards and bring them to you to unblock for them!

At school, lecturers don’t teach seriously as it is done at middle level colleges just because ‘you are bright’.You disapproved KNEC. What follows is bulky handouts when you are already broke and have nothing to eat leave alone having somewhere to sleep after missing a room in campus forcing you to rent a house seven kilometres away.

In case of a misfortune, just in case, a comrade is to be suspended for 1000 academic days (excluding weekends and holidays) unless you meet a merciful Senate that will send you home for ‘only’ one academic year; not the 14-day High school suspension! Still if you want to confirm that getting university admission is committing a crime; introduce yourself as such to a policeman. Not even a policewoman. Just try tomorrow.

CAMPUS NEWS At a glance...

BY SHADRACK KIRONG

Money stolen at Soweto Mess

Staff working at Soweto Mess on Monday morning woke up to surprising news of mysterious disappearance of some wads of cash. It is reported that the theft allegedly took place on Sunday night. Unlike the other usual burglary attempts, the Soweto burglary was seen by many as a smooth operation, in that there was no sign of break in or any damage of property in process or manner in which someone got accessed to the Electronic Cash Register (ECR), where the money was.

Sources privy to the Soweto Mess, estimated that about Sh. 27,000 was stolen.

The cashier who was on duty that day has since recorded a statement with the security. Police are now investigating the theft.

Rates abnormal, Safaricom subscribers

The recent increase of calling rates from Sh. 3 to Sh. 4 per minute among Safaricom Subscribers, has prompted and tempted many of its users to come up with counter measures to sustain themselves during this Shilling Crisis era: others resulting for the kuhama one to other networks.

Indeed, extraordinary situations call for more extraordinary measures. It is now evident that many comrades are becoming seasonal migrants to other less cheaper Communication Networks like YU, Airtel, Orange.

“...Me natumia laini ka zote nowdays, coz hiyo story na 4bob daily Kwa safcom siwezani nayo’’ said a Comrade, expressing his view on the impact of hiked calling rates.

“No Monkey business! Niko YU” added another comrade.

Mosquitoes a nuisance at Comfort Residence

Comrades residing at Comfort Hostels are now complaining of mosquito menace. The residents are raising an alarm to the concerned authority over the increasing swarm of the malaria causatives, which have been recently giving them sleepless nights.

“... kama hawataki kufanya job tutawatoa before wamalize term yao’’ a visibly irritated Comrade intoned.

This comes barely a week after The 3rd Eye highlighted of stinking latrines at the Comfort Residences, a problem which is up to now yet to be addressed.

Speaking to The 3rd Eye yesterday, Muso Health Director Patricia Tuwei, said that she was aware of the problem but was quick to add that the matter has been forwarded to the university’s Chief Medical Officer and the Catering and Hostels Manager Mr. Chesang’.

THE SHAMBA BOY SERIES: I got a long way to go and much more to learn

BY MAALIM SALAT

Very soon, many of you will miss me. Not because I will die, but because I will either run away from this university or I will transfer. I will transfer because I find life in this place very difficult. Life is difficult not because my helb pocket money is over but because people insult me whenever I try to befriend them or when I ask for help.

Some tell me things I don’t understand. You know this is the first time I hear the language you town guys speak. Sheng’ is still and will forever remain a mystery to me. My primary and secondary school teachers find it hard to say some English words (because it is taboo to say them) so I never learnt them.

There was a time when one of the girls I dated asked me if I am man enough. From the village knowledge that I had, I knew that a man is any human being who wears trousers and has a beard. That day I went to my friend whose name means mwenda wazimu in my mother tongue to tell me what a man is. He is called Law Laawe.

His advice did not help me at all. “For you to become a man,” he started “you have to break something called fajinity”. I expected him to tell me that fajinity is sold in the supermarket. In fact I was ready to go and buy it in the afternoon so that I break it and become a man.

I asked him how it is broken once I bought it. “acha ujinga”, he started reprimanding me as if I married his sister, “kwani wewe ulitoka dunia gani?”. Because I did not have a second option, I knelt in front of him and begged him to tell me what to do. If any of my relatives would hear what he told me, I would be sentenced in absentia to death by stoning but lucky I am because I am the only man from my village to ever join a university. So hiyo story haitafika huko shambani.

One thing led to another and I found myself in one of the rooms in hostel-J with a lady who would make me a man. But the first thing she told me made me realize that I will never become a man. “You look nice,” she started the conversation before adding, “Can you really blow a girl?”

What I heard is that I look like a member of Al-Shabaab, that I am carrying a bomb in my pocket and that I would explode any time. I started promising that I will not harm her; “walahi I will not blow you. Mimi habana alshabaab. I am a beaceful berson”. She just opened the door and let me out peacefully. The only thing I could hear was “jinga hii”. She did the rest of the cursing in her mother tongue so I could not understand.

Without any further ado, I ran to Hostel-A where relatives and “very good” friends of MUSOW officials live to beat the sleep out of this guy who lied to me. Law Laawe lives in Hostel-A because he campaigned for one of the officials. I live in the muddy C-houses (the fifth option where one goes to when he misses a room) because I campaigned for the wrong guy. Anyway, that is a story for another day.

These days I walk around with a bottle full of petrol so that I can blow a girl when I get a chance in the near future so that I do not embarrass my village and my community. I will become a man very soon.

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This is my second last article for this semester and I hope you have enjoyed reading my sick humour. If you were a fan of the Shamba Boy series, you stand a chance of getting airtime of up to Sh. 250 next week. All you have to do is answer the Shamba Boy questions that will be published on this page next week.