Wednesday, October 5, 2011

When I go to campus…

BY MERCY TRECY NG'ANG'A

I truly hope that my family never comes to see these confessions. Not for anything else but for sanity purpose and to save them from the disappointment they will be entitled to. That of a ‘good’ girl turning to a ‘bad’ girl!

I don’t disagree that there are people who are able to uphold their principles in campus but you must agree with me that not many are able to live by them. Campus simply transforms most people in a worse dimension than ‘Chris Brown’ can transform. It is such a transformation that I’m seated here expressing about.

I look at ladies or should I talk of girls? Campus has transformed some into young mothers. Others have embraced fashion more than even the beauty queens on magazines’ covers. Skirts are no longer some form of decency as sometimes it is better off for trousers or minis’…my mother calls them handkerchiefs whenever we come across someone with such in town . I just pray that fate does not catch up with me one of these days and open up reality to the face of the world to laugh at me! And if by mistake they get to see this, I hope they will assume it is someone with a similar name as to mine…

Men have not also been lucky enough to run from the transformation. Some used to quench their thirst only with soft drinks (obeying their thirst!) but now are the ‘brown bottle’ pros. That reminds me of a friend who has experienced such transformation. His is a result of peer pressure which he has apparently not been so lucky to elope from. The last time I checked on him, he had a hangover from an all-night-long drinking spree. The funny bit is where he had to be lifted up in order to be able to cross over a bump! Am not allowed to fill my page with laughter so will leave it to you to do me the favour.

Tight sagging trousers are a common dress code to some who before campus had never even in their wildest of dreams fathomed of such a scenario. ‘Roasted’ hair as my communication and culture lecturer calls it is also a style they have come to embrace.

Just where had I reached? Had been interrupted by someone checking whether he could do my nails! Which reminds me, that is a part of my transformation. I now spend hours seated down to have the colour of my nails changed to the western fashions. But get me right, I only do it when in campus because if I went that way home, my mother would suffer a heart attack if not a comma. She believes in the Old Testament where rules are to keep natural! She believes that only Queen Jezebel could do such wicked things to her body which reminds me of a piercing incident but let that be a story for another day my dears.

Back to my story, When last did you attend a church service? Do not follow my example on this because it is not something I am proud of. To be truthful, it is something I wish wouldn’t have had to talk about. It is not that am not a believer but just that I became like the maidens who slept while waiting for the groom. I don’t know why but the only time that sleep seems to overpower me is on Sundays! If my granny was around, she would tell me, “Shidwe” which she believes is correct to mean ‘Ishindwe’. My Bible is something else that has become a forgotten case. Yet it was meant to be a daily inspiration! But writing this has helped more than you can imagine because tonight I will look for it and retrace my steps.

I just hope that this will not open up more closed wounds which are better off left to heal. But I’m left with no option than to stand their pain as I review my wishes of..When I go to campus…

This should help you know of your importance to my life if you were not aware of it. The fact that I can withstand this pain just to share with you my wishes as… THE DREAMER!

You might agree with Kanye West when he says in the song ‘Knock you down’ that get up when you are knocked down. I truly believe deep within me that it is my time to get up. Or don’t you agree with me?

1 comment:

  1. I alwayz knew u had talent dia,owt f curiosity wat happend 2 da buk u wa writin bak then?

    ReplyDelete

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