At some point in your miserable, worthless campus life, you’ll get to be invited to some buffoon’s bash, probably a birthday party. This baffoon will be a friend or a course mate, so they’ll come to you and say, “Village Rover bana, I’m angusharing ka bash on Sunday. 8pm. Keep time”. Or maybe this bash will be organized by no one you or your ancestors know of, and the invitation you’ll get will be from a friend of a friend of the friend of the owner of the bash, so you’ll be attending as Amicus Friendae, friend of the friend.
But you’ll be elated. Because you like finding yourself in places where there’s booz and boobs. Just like your ancestors and their ancestors before them.
The next day of this Sunday would be a Monday packed with lectures and even more lectures. But you being you will not mind much because life isn’t all about attending classes and scribbling books. It’s like an ocean, with different kinds of fish, like keg and hot naive first year chicks and Odi wa Murang’a. And you, you’re the unbiased fisherman.
That Sunday evening you’ll clad your coolest, you know, as cool as Nairobi Cool . And you’ll make your way to this event with the confidence of a ghost crossing a busy superhighway. Or an Indian guy hitting on a random Facebook woman. True to your expectation this bash will be packed with everything you worship in this life, and the afterlife. Booz and boobs.
Now listen up you unrefined bloke. I don’t care how many hot chicks hoodwink you at this party. I don’t care how many round asses graze your groins while convulsing rapidly to the ODI WA MURANG’A latest hit. Come rain come sunshine. Whatever happens. Whatever you do. Do not. I repeat. Do not drink this devil’s tears called Chrome mixed with quencher. You know the too sugary quencher you have to mix with water to taste. Do not drink Chrome quenched with quencher. Scientists are still studying the kind of hangover this concoction breeds. Do not quote me on this though.
But you did not listen to your mother when she warned you against whistling at night I doubt you will listen to me. And this is why Kenyan universities doing away with Monday classes is such an urgent necessity. Because hangover is terrible folks, it’s real, it’s here with us and no comrade can summon enough will-power to escape it. It eats into your very being, feeding off your life force itself. Hangover is worse than roads back in my village. It’s worse than Sonko as a governor of Nairobi. It should be included in the BBI that forcing a comrade to attend classes on Monday is a criminal offence akin to first degree murder! Monday class is sadistic. It’s barbaric. It’s archaic. And out rightly wrong!
Comrades should have better. Because they deserve better.
By: Tonny Ogwa.