DIARY OF A BITTER COMRADE

By Lilian Bonareri

I walked in, so happy knowing I had found a home, a luxurious home, a sweet home where I could be for four years. Everything around me looked so amazing; I fell in love with the “yellow” flowers planted by the sides of all paths. I loved the tall building with a nice floor; where I learnt how to balance on my new heels just to ensure I didn’t hit the ground. This too was amazing to me.

I thought I was going to live there, and indeed I did. God seemed to have answered my prayers perfectly when the house keeper gave me the directions to my hostel. The hostels were next to the administration block.

Until I got to the room, Moi University was the best thing that could have ever happened in my life. The name “Upper Hill” was appealing and to me this was supposed to be some nice place, probably with the kind of slippery floor I had experienced earlier in the day.

The door opened and before me was an ugly room with two empty beds and other two beds neatly spread. This was my turning point, not for good but into a corrupt mind. I knew mine was a misguided decision; I wanted to leave never to come back. I hated my new sweet home.

I could have left, but I stayed. Here I am four years later, having stayed in a place I hated from day one. My attitude never changed, my sweet home grew worse each day. I had a bunch of old and rotten timber for a ceiling and upper floor roommates who would crush bottles of alcohol every Friday night, putting my life in danger. At times I could not sleep but keep watch as they danced to their “highness” lest the ever-falling pieces of my roof caught me unaware. I lived with rats; both living and dead.

Muddy paths have been part of me. I will not complain. I will not talk of the many times I got disappointed on the library shelves. I will not speak of the unsuccessful long queues in pursuit of a room. I will not talk of the unfriendly office bearers. I will not talk about the stereotypes from my old friends who landed in better places.

Through the hardships and harsh times I still could not get what I deserved. I have been trained to take what I am offered even when I know it isn’t the best for me. I came in naive, but now I know how to fix the sockets. I know how to tap power from the reading bulbs perfectly. I also know how to befriend Wikipedia if I have to complete my assignments. I have learnt to do it alone.

I am now getting out, still bitter and with a million unanswered questions. My life has been difficult, it has been miserable. I am worse than I came in. I hear more than I know of what the world requires of me. I am not sure of where I am going next. I never found a home; I never got what I wanted. Tell me why I should not be bitter. Tell me why I could not term it a misguided decision and give me a reason to be contented with the state of things.

I beg of you to let me go. I am leaving; I will not stay for another day. But I leave hoping things will change. I leave hoping those coming behind me will find a home here. I leave praying that the paths will not have stones for bridges. I leave hoping the leaking roofs will be attended to. I leave hoping this will be a home one day, a home sweet home.