THE ADDICTIVE NATURE OF SOCIAL MEDIA

By Japhet Ruto

Referring to Isaac Meso's article "Half-baked graduates who is to blame?", it is my opinion that social media is to blame for being too addictive. Most university students can't do without it. The desire to text frequently, tweet, Facebook, among other social networking activities is higher than that of the desire to take alcohol or smoke cigarettes in a day. According to my observation from a sample campus population, about 90 per cent of the student population access the Internet daily. 

We are in a digital world and communication has been made easier these days. However, our ability to think is now driven by social media such that if we were to be disconnected from it for a day some of us may fall sick. We no longer read widely, we use Google whenever we have assignments.

The reason behind most university students using 'mwaks' is attached to social media. We spend most of our time on Twitter, WhatsApp, 2go and other social networking sites instead of taking time to concentrate on academic work. I can firmly say that social media has deprived us of our talents. We can't go to the field to play because we are stuck to our phones. The essence of social media is to make communication easier, not to create laziness among us. Remember, no employer in the job market will recruit you based on the time you access social media sites.

DRAMA QUEEN

By Stanley Kimuge

They call her Lucy. Maybe that is because she is too loose. She stays on the third floor of Hostel K. A few weeks and she will be bolting out of the 8-4-5 system. When I cross-examined her, I discovered that she has some loopholes. Something could be amiss, everybody will whisper about her. She’s a drama queen. 

You will find out that she is a real smoker. At home, she smokes firewood. Here in campus, her room is ever misty. She is now used to puffing weed. She just graduated from consuming three packets of cigarettes a day. You might be misled into believing that she is an engineer. 

This girl is so allergic to water that she rarely baths. That is why she likes throwing water through the window. Effectuating waterfalls is her hobby. She suffers from indolence. She washes dishes in her room. Soon she pours a blend of omena's soup, and all kinds of "lemonade". In short, she often forgets that she still resides on the top floor and that there is someone right below her. Or maybe, she skived classes on the Newton’s Law.

Well, inside her room, there are bags. Below the bed she sleeps on are bugs on attachment. Rumour has it that she brought those blood sucking creatures from those infested universities. In another black bag, there are white-like tablets. Across the table is a yellow packet of latex. I don’t know what she does with. I guess she needs to be sure.

For sure, her life span has been sliced into half. Just like the sub-woofer she inherited from her fifth year dude a fortnight ago. The gadget never takes a rest. It sings to her taste - zilizopendwa all night long. She doesn't bother that it sends her neighbour into insomniac mode. 

This damsel has evolved too fast! Remember when she was in her first year, she wore long skirts. She attended all church services. But nowadays, she puts on tiny shorts during lectures. When a guy seats next to her, his mind usually hangs like Internet in the library.

If only the green book could work on dress code, half of the seats would be empty. It is good that such laws are never followed up here. But at least she has got a few days to log out. I am convinced that she will walk naked in the next class if she stays. 


The writer is a 4th Year Information Science student.

SOMEONE TELL THE JANITOR

By W. Kahiro

No man-made thing lasts forever. But with a little maintenance here and there and constant assurance of standards, most man-made structures will last long enough to deliver quality service. It is in this spirit that I beg that someone must tell our janitor:

-That trash has not been emptied for quite some days now. The stench is foul and the rodents are moving in, in small families. You would not believe the number of bugs that have made themselves comfortable in our room since the last fumigation exercise. Taking in the rodents is simply asking too much of us.

-That even though he claims to have washed the kitchen, the banana peelings and used teabags still rest on the sink, right where the inconsiderate resident left them. 

-That almost all the taps are faulty and water runs continuously in the hostel. What happened to resource management? I trust that this water bill will be charged based on the water that I have actually consumed.

-That turning off water from a tap completely to stop it from running is not fixing the problem. If all the taps were to be faulty does this mean there could be no water entirely?

-That drainage systems no longer function as they should. The washrooms are constantly flooded and every time we make a visit we have to re-live the Noah experience only that this time, with increased risks of water-borne diseases.


-That repair of the drainage system could be more meticulous. Yesterday he fixed the water pipes under the sinks only for them to fall out just before our next oral cleaning session. That should be today. The repair work has become more of a ‘now you see it now you don’t’ affair. 

-That we would have wished to share all this in person but Lord knows where the suggestion box at the entrance of the hostel disappeared to. Rumour has it that it’s a cold case.

WE ARE DEMOLISHING WHAT FREEDOM FIGHTERS BUILT

By Kinyua Njeri
 
It’s now fifty years since Kenya reclaimed her independence. Half a century ago, streets were filled with pomp, everyone happy to have been unchained from colonization. Hopes filled the air as cuffs of patronage fell off Kenya’s hands. Our fathers could not help it but shout out their joys – the white oppressors were gone, never to return.
 
At the time, everyone seemed to be fully possessed by the spirit of nationalism. Some politicians were even ready to step down for the sake of the nation. When the founding father vowed to eradicate ignorance, poverty and disease, hopes rode high. Expectations could be felt as an African government took power.
That was then. Today, fifty years down the line, I wonder what freedom fighters would say if they got a chance to behold the sun again. 

When they braved the cold, game, hunger and bullets, the freedom fighters had a very concise array of aims. Theirs was to drive away the robbers of land, peace, sweat, cultural values, freedom, natural resources and independence. Their dream was to see a prosperous Kenya. Their visions were predominated by illusions of their children playing by the lakeside, rolling down the mountains, grazing cattle in the plains and swimming at the coastlines without fear or discrimination. 

To them, life was too short to attack fellow brothers with whom they had suffered together. Peace and unity became the gospel.
When they saw their children, they could not help but admire a Kenya that was to come. To them, the children would build the strong fort that they had architected. Tom Mboya and other fair minded elites of his time came up with projects to help these seedlings of hope achieve this great dream. Unlike today, politicians of the time were creative in their service to the new born nation.
That was a long time ago. Today, things have evolved extensively. Kenyans are now independent in the sense that no white man ever becomes the president over them. We are ‘sovereign’ now that we are not forced to work in what was initially our farm and therefore, unlike Kimathi and Mekatilili, we do not need to struggle for national matters, or do we?
 
Unlike the days when heroism was achieved from tangible service to the nation; where one had to dare the forests in pursuit of freedom for generations to come, these days we exalt oppressors. Jaramogi, that great socialist, would wish to die again if he chanced to resurrect and see how Kenyans became passionate about capitalism. How could he endure a life where he is ruled by ‘charismatic’ drug barons? Did we really deserve our freedom?
J.M. Kariuki would weep profusely after discovering how right he was when he predicted a Kenya with ten million poor people and ten millionaires. Kimathi, Stanley Mathenge, Mekatilili and other enthusiasts would wish to be re-executed if they’d see their fellow freedom fighters who are still alive wallowing in utter poverty, landlessness and ailing wounds of bullets they ‘gained’ from the pursuit of sovereignty. 

They would not stand the sight of Kenyans killing each other at the glare of the world. Televisions would be the hit target as they would be smashed when international channels incite the world to watch the allure of Kenyans killing themselves. They simply wouldn't bear the sarcastic laughter of colonizers at the torn Kenya.
Aren't we demolishing what the freedom fighters built?

The writer is the Deputy Editor-In-Chief of The 3rd Eye.