By Kirong Shadrack
Details of a looming Lecturers’ strike have left many with lingering
questions. Few months ago, KNUT and UASU called for a national strike
demanding for a pay rise. This was allegedly part of un-honoured pay
agreement which dates back from a decade ago. This threw the whole
nation into a limbo, Parents
Association, Religious Groups and activist groups could not hesitate to
come out strongly and exert all pressure on the Government over their
defiant and recalcitrant attitude over the matter.
It has
not escaped the public gallery, the unfolding of events that
precipitated the battle that ensued. From the controversial Education
Minister Hon Mutula Kilonzo, to inevitably last strike minute deals.
That for the first time in the teaching profession, a teacher could
exercise their bragging rights without any discrimination, courtesy of
the renown “hero” Mr. Sossion and his team. And no sooner had the
teachers hanged down their ‘solidarity forever’ song did the civil
servants, nurses and University staff unions join the almost revolution
and growing national industrial action anthem. But this time round
with a different line of rythm ‘come baby come’.
History
might be repeating itself. However, no Kenyan would wish recent
happenings “rearranged cut and pasted” into the recent time. It
therefore comes as mock and displeasing news that we might see another
recurrent mish - mash of the situations, we widely witnessed few
months ago, if yesterdays’ threats issued by the University staff
unions is anything to go by. Posing many questions than answers,
whether the signed return- to- work formula between the
aforementioned parties and the Kenya Government was not sealed deal?
Or were the parties duped into signing the agreements?
It’s a
unanimous fact that Industrial Action is the only language the Kenya
Government can understand. But for how long is the Kenya Government
going to persist with its stubbornness, arrogance and delay tactics
over issues that touch the very fabric of our economy and livelihood,
is a question that should expeditiously be addressed once and for all.
Lest we want to see our Higher Education system sail in regular ship
full of un-contended captains and worn out sailors.
It will
be a razored humiliation at its core especially to entire system if
this untimely decisions proves futile, not to mention the common
victims; the students who will always roil in frustration. Entangled in
this web of wait-see situation coupled by tug of curiosity on the next
course of action, over the impending Industrial action by the
University staff Unions, the voice is unanimously loud and clear! We are
tired of strikes!!!!.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Medical Centre introduces Male cut
From the News Desk
Main-Campus based Moi University Medical Centre has revealed plans to have male circumcision introduced in the facility.
Main-Campus based Moi University Medical Centre has revealed plans to have male circumcision introduced in the facility.
"We would like ask those interested in this noble initiative to visit
and get free services at our facility", said the health officer.
Recent studies have shown that those circumcised are safer than those not, when it comes to STDs infection.
However, the centre will work in collaboration with an Eldoret community-based N.G.O to provide male-cut.
Additional reporting by Ronah Saadah.
Recent studies have shown that those circumcised are safer than those not, when it comes to STDs infection.
However, the centre will work in collaboration with an Eldoret community-based N.G.O to provide male-cut.
Additional reporting by Ronah Saadah.
OH MY! MY ROOMMATE IS AN ENGINEER!
By William Dekker
There is this bunch that I duly respect full time; engineers. They run the planet, no doubt! But we run the humanity in it, that’s indisputable. But really, what happens behind the scenes? The transformation of a common man into an engineer is a process that is filled with humour, craze and baffling experiences. My roommate is an engineer, I have lots of pains to reveal and comics to disclose in effect to that. I share the fun but still remain a secret sufferer:
1. He has never known my name for three years now;
This chap has no time even just to ask for your name. He calls me boss (I wonder if I’ll ever make even a simple CEO in the future to earn such a title, now that am addicted to “soups”). Neither does he know I’m currently in which year, nor undertaking which course in this campus, all he knows; I make a good room-mate. According to him, such is a time wastage thing that doesn’t contribute to his degree (of course he is right).
2. He has turned my electronics into experimental paraphernalia.
Last Saturday, I invited my buddies for a get-together. Psyched, to DJ the whole night of merry-making, I made attempts to reach for the music system only to find the “woofer” components had been disassembled all over his bed. I didn’t see him the whole night to express my frustrations. The following morning, as I made attempts to power on the electric heater for preparation of breakfast I got another blow; it wasn’t functioning. Then from nowhere, I guess, he bumped in; in a lean-walk holding some coiled “thing” in his right arm, with the power cable hanging on his right shoulder as well. Oh my! This had been removed from the appliance that, by then, I was still holding, staring at in exasperation. No words!
With burning fury, I uttered no word! I decided to get off this place, and set off to church. Perhaps this guy deserved some forgiveness, maombi was my only pending option. After taking a shower, I reached for my “Sunday best” and powered on the iron box…ooooooooow! The first spot that the iron box had landed on was left to form a triangular “hole”, through to the six-inch mattress!
“No! You should have told me! I had removed the bimetallic strip while repairing Njeri’s Iron-Box, I guess I forgot it in hers. Without that you will continue ‘smoldering’ more of your clothes.” This dude had the courage to ascertain so. Compelled by anger, I felt like squeezing him through the aeration holes located over the door just to teach him some manners. Thank Jah, it was Sunday; when always in my best behaviour.
3. The best he can cook is strong tea;
Mr. Engineer either has no time to spend cooking “complex stuff” or he literally doesn’t know how to do the cooking thing. In case I don’t cook, the chap is ever ready to survive the hunger. “Anapikanga STRONG mob asubuhi, then mchana yote ni ngumu anaongeza akisuma maisha”. Really! Was this guy ever raised in a house with a kitchen? Busy? Doesn’t make a reasonable excuse, utakonda!
4. I’m still in doubts whether he is dumb or deaf;
Hapa Moi nimepata dawa yangu! I used to be this hornbill extrovert who never quiets. Imagine a situation where you stay with either a dumb or deaf comrade in a (2x3)m squeezed room; like the ones we have in J& H. He never talks; his personality, background, social life, academics or just “boy-talk” that I am addicted to most. The last time we had more than a minute-talk, was four-semesters ago. That day he got down to caution me over my eating habits; the chemical confusion in them; Juo, Royco, Mandazis; “That Sossi you are so addicted to is floor that has undergone polymerization…” That hit me so hard. No body ever undermines my addiction!
I have deliberately “forgotten” to mention that; he neither combs his iconic shaggy hair nor shaves it; doesn’t spread his bedding; never heard him talk of him having a girlfriend(or he just has no time for that); doesn’t know where LT3 is locate; not aware that the university staff were yesterday on a strike; doesn’t know that people do get HELB-loans (by the way grapevine says Forth-years wamepata HELB double…si mbaya!)
Literally, this people don’t have time; no time to live like normal campo students. Could somebody please give the engineers time! Somebody please…Heylooow?
There is this bunch that I duly respect full time; engineers. They run the planet, no doubt! But we run the humanity in it, that’s indisputable. But really, what happens behind the scenes? The transformation of a common man into an engineer is a process that is filled with humour, craze and baffling experiences. My roommate is an engineer, I have lots of pains to reveal and comics to disclose in effect to that. I share the fun but still remain a secret sufferer:
1. He has never known my name for three years now;
This chap has no time even just to ask for your name. He calls me boss (I wonder if I’ll ever make even a simple CEO in the future to earn such a title, now that am addicted to “soups”). Neither does he know I’m currently in which year, nor undertaking which course in this campus, all he knows; I make a good room-mate. According to him, such is a time wastage thing that doesn’t contribute to his degree (of course he is right).
2. He has turned my electronics into experimental paraphernalia.
Last Saturday, I invited my buddies for a get-together. Psyched, to DJ the whole night of merry-making, I made attempts to reach for the music system only to find the “woofer” components had been disassembled all over his bed. I didn’t see him the whole night to express my frustrations. The following morning, as I made attempts to power on the electric heater for preparation of breakfast I got another blow; it wasn’t functioning. Then from nowhere, I guess, he bumped in; in a lean-walk holding some coiled “thing” in his right arm, with the power cable hanging on his right shoulder as well. Oh my! This had been removed from the appliance that, by then, I was still holding, staring at in exasperation. No words!
With burning fury, I uttered no word! I decided to get off this place, and set off to church. Perhaps this guy deserved some forgiveness, maombi was my only pending option. After taking a shower, I reached for my “Sunday best” and powered on the iron box…ooooooooow! The first spot that the iron box had landed on was left to form a triangular “hole”, through to the six-inch mattress!
“No! You should have told me! I had removed the bimetallic strip while repairing Njeri’s Iron-Box, I guess I forgot it in hers. Without that you will continue ‘smoldering’ more of your clothes.” This dude had the courage to ascertain so. Compelled by anger, I felt like squeezing him through the aeration holes located over the door just to teach him some manners. Thank Jah, it was Sunday; when always in my best behaviour.
3. The best he can cook is strong tea;
Mr. Engineer either has no time to spend cooking “complex stuff” or he literally doesn’t know how to do the cooking thing. In case I don’t cook, the chap is ever ready to survive the hunger. “Anapikanga STRONG mob asubuhi, then mchana yote ni ngumu anaongeza akisuma maisha”. Really! Was this guy ever raised in a house with a kitchen? Busy? Doesn’t make a reasonable excuse, utakonda!
4. I’m still in doubts whether he is dumb or deaf;
Hapa Moi nimepata dawa yangu! I used to be this hornbill extrovert who never quiets. Imagine a situation where you stay with either a dumb or deaf comrade in a (2x3)m squeezed room; like the ones we have in J& H. He never talks; his personality, background, social life, academics or just “boy-talk” that I am addicted to most. The last time we had more than a minute-talk, was four-semesters ago. That day he got down to caution me over my eating habits; the chemical confusion in them; Juo, Royco, Mandazis; “That Sossi you are so addicted to is floor that has undergone polymerization…” That hit me so hard. No body ever undermines my addiction!
I have deliberately “forgotten” to mention that; he neither combs his iconic shaggy hair nor shaves it; doesn’t spread his bedding; never heard him talk of him having a girlfriend(or he just has no time for that); doesn’t know where LT3 is locate; not aware that the university staff were yesterday on a strike; doesn’t know that people do get HELB-loans (by the way grapevine says Forth-years wamepata HELB double…si mbaya!)
Literally, this people don’t have time; no time to live like normal campo students. Could somebody please give the engineers time! Somebody please…Heylooow?
NAKED TRUTHS 101
By Henry Adera
Okay, okay. There are numerous annoying things common amongst us comrades that are rather so last year. Many are times we are left perplexed because of what we see or hear here in Campus, so let me settle some beef here. Depending on your point of view and opinion depth, you’ll find some of these issues affecting you or someone you know directly:
I’M SINGLE AND SEARCHING
This is the most common lie in campus and very prevalent among us; gentlemen, sorry to say. You’ll always hear it in group and association meetings, especially during introductions. Turns out that every campus dude is single, ladies beware. Unless you’ve known a guy’s relationship history, I find ladies who fall for this cliché so naïve and cheap. Depending on when one commenced studies, the modal age bracket for joining campus according to a recent research conducted by an NGO in East African public universities is 19-20. Now, at this age comrades, unless one has an ambition of becoming a nun or brother, do you think a relationship status of “Single” applies? No, sir!
WEEKEND “UNCLES”
Gentlemen, keep your eyes open on Friday evenings and Saturday mornings to see the number of dressed-to-kill ladies in handbags and cars cruising along the academic highway; then compare the figures you get with workday figures. This way, you won’t break my spectacles when we meet anywhere because you’ll see what I mean. Very few principled ladies will shamelessly disclose their relationship statuses as “In a relationship” and I really give maximum respect to such. Most of them will always reminisce about their heartbreaks, how men are the same all over and go to the extent of calling us ‘dogs’ but during weekends, they visit their “Uncles” outside campus. Woe unto you who has such a comrade as a sweetheart here and boast to us of how her love is agape, you know, she even has to visit her only uncle every weekend while you’re left jerking off in your room.
SWAG
Changes are constant and will always remain that way, I don’t dispute that fact and I also appreciate fashion to the maximum, but what's with dudes wearing Timberland boots with official outfits, exposed G-string briefs due to short tops and exposed dirty boxers because of sagging denim jeans along our highways? I won’t point any fingers, but some dudes are exact replicas of Homo habilis in the name of swag. Swag is not for every Tom, Dick and Harry. If you can’t do it right, leave it to the pros. Don’t show us the village in you by putting on 5kg baggy jeans, an Arsenal jersey plus a “Ng’ombe” cap on a hot afternoon and to add salt to injury, bouncing in this ISO certified institution.
On the same note, some ladies resemble sand tippers in certain hair styles. They wonder why, despite possessing perfect model bodies, their weight constantly reads 1050 Newtons. It never occurs to them that the only thing they need to shed off that weight is to get rid of the bulky hair on their head. This is my opinion: Swag is for boys and girls; class is for real ladies and gentlemen. Simple and crystal clear.
STATUS UPDATES
“On my way to Nairobi…Mombasa here I come...Heading to Kisumu…” The list is endless and very common during holidays and weekends. Sometimes you happen to have seen a comrade at a joint somewhere and the next thing you see him or her updating on Facebook is, “Kumbe wazungu pia hushuta”…at Pioneer International Hotel, Chicago USA, 2 minutes ago near Texas. Nkt!
Will you catch cholera if you say you are sipping a warm calabash of porridge at your rural home, say Bomachoge village? Some even go to the trouble of climbing up trees to access UMTS, 3G or EDGE networks while guarding maize from notorious monkeys at their rural family farms, lest the monkeys reap where they did not sow, just to update such crap. The next time you see a comrade’s arm on an arm strap during reporting day, just smile and walk away!
Okay, okay. There are numerous annoying things common amongst us comrades that are rather so last year. Many are times we are left perplexed because of what we see or hear here in Campus, so let me settle some beef here. Depending on your point of view and opinion depth, you’ll find some of these issues affecting you or someone you know directly:
I’M SINGLE AND SEARCHING
This is the most common lie in campus and very prevalent among us; gentlemen, sorry to say. You’ll always hear it in group and association meetings, especially during introductions. Turns out that every campus dude is single, ladies beware. Unless you’ve known a guy’s relationship history, I find ladies who fall for this cliché so naïve and cheap. Depending on when one commenced studies, the modal age bracket for joining campus according to a recent research conducted by an NGO in East African public universities is 19-20. Now, at this age comrades, unless one has an ambition of becoming a nun or brother, do you think a relationship status of “Single” applies? No, sir!
WEEKEND “UNCLES”
Gentlemen, keep your eyes open on Friday evenings and Saturday mornings to see the number of dressed-to-kill ladies in handbags and cars cruising along the academic highway; then compare the figures you get with workday figures. This way, you won’t break my spectacles when we meet anywhere because you’ll see what I mean. Very few principled ladies will shamelessly disclose their relationship statuses as “In a relationship” and I really give maximum respect to such. Most of them will always reminisce about their heartbreaks, how men are the same all over and go to the extent of calling us ‘dogs’ but during weekends, they visit their “Uncles” outside campus. Woe unto you who has such a comrade as a sweetheart here and boast to us of how her love is agape, you know, she even has to visit her only uncle every weekend while you’re left jerking off in your room.
SWAG
Changes are constant and will always remain that way, I don’t dispute that fact and I also appreciate fashion to the maximum, but what's with dudes wearing Timberland boots with official outfits, exposed G-string briefs due to short tops and exposed dirty boxers because of sagging denim jeans along our highways? I won’t point any fingers, but some dudes are exact replicas of Homo habilis in the name of swag. Swag is not for every Tom, Dick and Harry. If you can’t do it right, leave it to the pros. Don’t show us the village in you by putting on 5kg baggy jeans, an Arsenal jersey plus a “Ng’ombe” cap on a hot afternoon and to add salt to injury, bouncing in this ISO certified institution.
On the same note, some ladies resemble sand tippers in certain hair styles. They wonder why, despite possessing perfect model bodies, their weight constantly reads 1050 Newtons. It never occurs to them that the only thing they need to shed off that weight is to get rid of the bulky hair on their head. This is my opinion: Swag is for boys and girls; class is for real ladies and gentlemen. Simple and crystal clear.
STATUS UPDATES
“On my way to Nairobi…Mombasa here I come...Heading to Kisumu…” The list is endless and very common during holidays and weekends. Sometimes you happen to have seen a comrade at a joint somewhere and the next thing you see him or her updating on Facebook is, “Kumbe wazungu pia hushuta”…at Pioneer International Hotel, Chicago USA, 2 minutes ago near Texas. Nkt!
Will you catch cholera if you say you are sipping a warm calabash of porridge at your rural home, say Bomachoge village? Some even go to the trouble of climbing up trees to access UMTS, 3G or EDGE networks while guarding maize from notorious monkeys at their rural family farms, lest the monkeys reap where they did not sow, just to update such crap. The next time you see a comrade’s arm on an arm strap during reporting day, just smile and walk away!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)