You attended my graduation celebrations
on Friday, didn't you? Well, if you attended, you felt sufficiently
inspired to fish out your composition book from your dust-filled book
cabinet and sit down to write: The Day I Will Never Forget.
The first paragraph of that composition captures the pomp and
pageantry-saturated atmosphere that hang in Kanyayo village on
Friday. Kanyayo, you will write was expectant. Pregnant with
anticipation. Everyone was dressed to kill as they all thronged to my
father's compound where they would witness the midwifery of an
academic giant.
Your second paragraph should describe
me, the antagonist of the story. You should describe me as a citadel
of academic excellence and mathematical ingenuity who schooled in the
ivory tower and stunned all those who brushed shoulders with my
inimitable skills. You will say that I am unbowed, indefatigable and
a gentleman made of real mettle. You will say how eagerly you had
waited to see me in Magoha's gown and how pleased you were when you
saw me wearing my intelligent ear-to-ear grin as I danced to ' Ngatho
ici ndacituma' song done by the local mwethia women. You
will say that my pair of Jinerda boots shone with a gleaming glitter
that made the sun green.
Well, if you write that, be assured to
earn good marks. You continue writing similar sterling essays and you
could easily win the Caine Prize for African writing like Okwiri
Odour did. [PS: Her debut piece of writing was about my joining the
premier institution of learning, the University of Nairobi. Look
where she is now!]
Best Student At The University
But Ndaru should
not celebrate this victory alone. He should acknowledge my
inspiration and input in coloring his victory. Back in second year,
we were living in the same hall with this Ndaru. As he was preparing
his meals one evening, his electric coil burst into flames. He was
tongue-tied. He had just added some unga in the boiled water to make
ugali. If he dilly-dallied, things would go awry. He wouldn't eat and
his unga would go to waste. So Ndaru knocked on my door. You know
they say that one should know and the door will be opened. I did open
and Ndaru looking petrified as hell mumbled that he wanted the
services of my coil. I ain't a stingy guy. Well, I am stingy with
edibles but with things like electric coils, I give them out even
before you ask. So, I gave Ndaru the coil.
Ndaru Elias Kivuti, I know that coil played a role in your success. Anytime the media guys wish to interview you about what was your motivating factor, quote Jammoh's coil. Say that it was a building block to your ingenuity.
Ndaru Elias Kivuti, I know that coil played a role in your success. Anytime the media guys wish to interview you about what was your motivating factor, quote Jammoh's coil. Say that it was a building block to your ingenuity.
Still at Home
As I write this
essay, I am still cooling my heels in Kanyayo. After four grueling
years of toiling and moiling, it is only fair that a man gets a good
one-week rest as they get manicured, pedicured and pampered with all
sorts of royal jelly. So, I am still at home and I ain't alone. There
is a group of relatives with me. They have refused to move out of
home. They too claim that graduation celebrations should be done for
a whole week.
The most
outstanding among all these relatives is an aging old woman, Aunt
Maribeta. She came all the way from Loitoktok( we call it Ruitugitu)
two weeks before 29th August. She has become part of household since
then. She wouldn't miss going to Nairobi for the convocation. It was
her second time. The first time she was in Nairofi was when rumors
were doing rounds that Mau Mau people were being compensated. She
traveled to town but she went back home angry after they were
short-changed by those bloody whites.
On Friday, when
Aunt Maribeta realized that it was only two people who could get into
the graduation square, she got so angry that she stormed out of the
university. We spent three good hours looking for her after the
event. When we eventually found her, she was coiled in a corner at
the Industrial area cells. She had been apprehended for slapping
a South B market woman who refused to sell her three bananas at five
bob.
On arriving home
after the short ceremony at the varsity, my local beefy friends
lifted me shoulder high and danced with me still suspended in the
atmosphere. Those guys are really strong. Some work in Kinangop and
months of eating potatoes and cabbages have seen them get bigger and
bigger.
My
father had slaughtered a goat in my honor. What is a goat when your
son is graduating, he asked. I pity that goat. Someone
graduates in the family and everybody is in a jubilant mood apart
from you Mr. goat. You are there; head bent. Shy. Crying. You will
die when they sharpen that knife. That rusty knife that killed your
mother two years ago. They slit her throat and murdered her in cold
bloods--Adolf Hitler style. You pledged to avenge but you didn't. And
in the next two hours, when that nigger who thinks that he is so
learned because he pursued Statistics in UON comes, you will die.
They will tear your ribs in merry. The bloody vampires! They will
then swirl down your ribs with fermented corrosive muratina. These
Kiambu drunks! May they lose their eyes, you say. But you are in the
toilet and the shit is corroding you.
I am now a graduate. Even this blog
knows it. You should have seen how it reacted when I touched it today
in the morning. It gave in to all my whims; without any iota of
reluctance. I caressed the 'Hotelini kwa Jammoh' banner and it
started blushing. You should have seen how it looked down on the
floor and started drawing maps on the earth with its big toe. A
graduate was seducing it. Lucky blog! There are no many blogs that
get that golden opportunity of seeing the nether world of a
graduate's writing groin, is there? So Hotelini kwa Jammoh should be
proud. I know right now it is gleaming in glee. Yes, no other blog is
like it in the entire blogosphere.
That was really interesting, I don't know why it took me so long to notice it. Jammoh thanks for everything. What you say is pure truth... I will live to remember that.
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