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.
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