FROM PUPPET TO PUPPETEER: PART 1

By Henry Adera

Okay, okay, okay. I've had it, and so have you. Campus ladies this, campus ladies that, campus ladies are all washed up…you got the wrong equation. Man, every lady goes through transitions. “Why I won’t marry a campus chick”, “HELB terrorists”, “The pocket gangsters…” plus many nasty titles have sprung up because of them. However, I want to stand up tall for them today, not that I haven’t gone through hell in their hands, but because I've also made some of them wish they were fire pokers in hell rather than living here. Let me outline it in this manner:

First year…They come with very high expectations. We’re in campus, aren't we? Some used to be CU chair ladies in their former High Schools. Mark my words, chair ladies. Immediately they pass through that white gate, you know the one adjacent to the St. Michaels Arch-angel Catholic Church, all hell breaks loose. Perhaps that’s why the church is located outside the gate in the first place. They are then branded fresh names - freshers. Nearly every male comrade gets himself a new catch, rendering the third and fourth year ladies ‘worn out’.

It’s a universal fact that women are emotive. Now, coming from a world where they used to be considered ‘old’ and ‘used up’ (high school) to a completely new world where they are all ‘fresh’ (campus), picture it this way: it’s like giving a monkey the key to an amusement park. The appearance doesn't matter. Some look like earth angels, the rest look like my left foot. All the same, they all end up getting cohorts in mint condition.

Second year…This is where the tussles begin. Their eyes are ‘opened’, letter S becomes letter X and “sorry” becomes “sowwy.” Fracas gets new clientèle; the academic highway becomes a beauty arcade with all kinds of fashion disasters. The new ‘husbands’ become overwhelmed with their new 'wives' high financial demands and start to flee, of course leaving footprints behind in form of first degrees which become living after nine months if at all the degree holder doesn't opt to defer, read between the lines.

This is also the point where headlines like “Why I won’t marry a campus chick” and ‘The HIVo HIVo list’ pop up. But who is to blame? These ‘spoilt’ oestrogen-bearing creatures came to campus completely chaste. Some had stable relationships, others were daddy’s girls and of course, a few were respected CU chair ladies. Supposing they were left that way to pursue their bachelor’s degrees in peace, would there be broken hearts, botched abortions and ‘living degrees’? No, sir there wouldn't. Now these disastrous incidences only ensue to naïve and cheap ladies.

Look, I'm aware that we all have blood running in our veins, not cold water, and that we have hearts, not glaciers in our chests. Men come from between women’s legs and spend the rest of their lives trying to get back there, perhaps because there’s no better place like home. But hey, what of if we consecrate that special feeling to one special person, where every man tries to find and build his home with one lady? What a perfect world this would be!

Third year…this is the ‘rusting’ stage for ladies whereas it’s the ‘recycling’ stage for their male comrade counterparts. Few sensible ladies open their eyes further and realize it’s high time they found worthy partners who have the potential of putting up a roof over their heads. On the other hand, some misfits of ‘swaggeriffic’ men repeat the cycle of destroying unsuspecting female first years. Shame on you!

So, are ladies to blame for their campus behaviour? No. Some nincompoops make them what they are. When you happen to have been raised up in a religious family, you are definitely familiar with the “Almighty God, my daughter is going to campus. Keep her safe and protect her from the devil…” prayer line. Yes, some come to campus right into the hands of some social ‘devils’. It’s up to you female comrades. Be cheap and mix body fluids with different spray guns or be a lady of quality, stick to one man and build up a healthy relationship. The choice is yours.