CONFLICT

CONFLICT

The air in campus these past two weeks has been ripe with strife!

First came the shifting of power from one student council to the other. Campaigns ran riot! Pun intended. Youth who were drunk, rowdy and unruly took the streets running with banners, placards and waving their T-shirts while baring their chests in the name of proclaiming their favorite politician Tosha! In a display of reckless abandon for their safety or the welfare of the others, they hung from trucks at precarious angles, paralyzed traffic as their convoys made their numerous rounds through town and for the unwary business person, a few commodities were lost as well.

Universities are in essence a reserve of the intellectual crème` de la crème` of society. Granted some rowdiness maybe be permitted now that most of the folk in universities are young, free and wild, there should however be a limit. What’s to distinguish intellectuals from laymen if we are to behave in the same manner if not worse? How do you call yourself different from that villager who is bribed with a few shots off illicit liquor to go blaring the name of some hapless politician when you are doing the same thing drunk as blazes running through town shouting somebody’s name?

Shouldn’t campus politics be different? We should be seeing a display of brains muscling out each other in debates and progressive talks. Campus politics should be an arena of combating ideas and not a ruse for people to get drunk and in various debaucheries all in the name of campaigning.

So people voted on a Friday that was characterized by brightly dressed folks who stood outside the voting area chattering away in anticipation. The politicking never died away, on the same day, the campaigners stood sentinel outside issuing leaflets and trying to sway a few hearts. Oh wait, isn’t that an election malpractice? No one really gave a hoot! As early as 9 in the morning, guys were getting drunk at the student center. This could escalate to an afternoon of guys fighting over poker games and others breaking the bottles they had drunk in the morning in a burst of drunken masochism to the chagrin of their allies who cheered boisterously!

That very evening, it drizzled after months of dry weather. The announcing of elections also took a different turn. Power as we know it never changes hands easily. Before the committee could finish counting the votes to declare the winner, rumors started flying abound that the results had been predetermined. In no time at all the air became charged, electric! Poised for a riot! And that is what went down. The mob that had been standing outside the MCU turned murderous. They slung stones at the building with missile like efficiency turning all the windows into patterns of broken glass. It’s still a mystery where tires came from but tires were burnt before police were called in to stub the riot.  The results are yet to be out.

After that little escapade, calm descended once again. Exams took the concentration of everyone. Some struggled frantically to finish clearing their fees and registering as others realized that they hadn’t read a thing and scrambled to photocopy notes from their friends.  It’s as if the elections never took place. Only the charred remains of tires and the broken windows were evidence that a struggle had taken place. Then the Lecturers announced their strike!

The vice chancellor requested a meeting with the students! Half the university turned up! Before a crowd that was bound to turn mutinous any moment, He stood up and weaved a speech that not only calmed the students and gave them hope, but one that hoodwinked them into his playing arena. He displayed a masterly of crowd manipulation telling the crowd what they wanted to hear and then some more. Coming in as a new leader taking over a regime that was crumbling and sinking, the MMUST don seemed like the revolutionary in that speech! His first speech before students ready for riot proved a big success.

All the time, he was speaking, I couldn’t help but look on in trepidation while thinking, “Any wrong words now and this entire fraternity will descend on you!” He stood on a chair the whole time owing to his short frame with a multitude of faces pressing in from every angle flanked only by two of his vice chancellors. With that speech, the crowd settled down. One week added on to do more revision and finish clearing, Master stroke!

This morning as I was walking to school, a friend asked me this question, “aren’t we supposed to go home for a break now that we are doing nothing?” she asked.  ‘It’s written in the school rules that if we stay four academic days without any activity going on, the management is supposed to allow us go on break.” She added.  I do not know if such a rule exists, maybe it’s time I revisited my school rules, but then again, what’s the point? I’m here for only a few days more.

 @mossettiCon

KIZOMBA SATURDAY

KIZOMBA SATURDAY

Oblivious to the rain that pounds the ground outside, they dance away...

Swaying to the Kizomba dance that holds them captive to the steps and romance of the dance, they step, step and tap. In rhythm to the beat, slaves of the music. Holding their partners in close proximity, La casa dances away.

 Today the crowd is not the usual self. Normally it’s crowded with guys spoilt for choice at the abundance of ladies within. Today we are evenly matched. Everyone has a partner and the dance floor is not crowded. A casual observer will be enthralled at the six couples that patronize the dance floor.

Deno with Daisy taking her through the motions. Seemingly engrossed in concentration so deep he might have been carried away by the soft Kizomba beat, he is willing away the music in the farthest corner. Daisy in a purple polka dot dress holds onto him almost for dear life. Dancing is a matter of trust in those fleeting moments she seems totally resigned to him.

Vinn and Elvlia,  Vinn tucks experience into his belt and leads in a pattern of steps that dip and sway Elvia to his every whim. They move and almost in slow motion to the beat that has clearly arrested them taking away all their attention. Elvia has her eyes closed.

Belinda joins me, smiling as always! We hold, assuming the dancer stance and as the first beat goes, we step. I lead, getting lost in utopia as the music takes root. In between snatches or reality as the songs are changed and the culminating points as the climaxes ride over and over in a loop as the perambulations of the moments hold us!

The other couples are lost in the moment. Almost frozen in a slow movie. Ibra joins later on, almost as we are finishing. Heck! Let’s dance on its raining. He is clearly a master at what he does taking Mercy through the motions and leaving us spell bound at how such a small guy can do that to a lady twice his size! But then his prowess tells.

The rains have spoilt what could rather have been a perfect afternoon. The usual suspects have turned out in a quarter the usual number. As the session dies away, the members congregate near the speaker and leave the floor to but a few couples. The tired dancers, a mixture of the almost perfect, the perfect and the novices wipe away the sweat from their brows and watch as the rest dance.

We began dancing a scant crowd. Of the originals, only handful remains, over the days, new faces have joined and others have left, the remaining dancers are a close knit community which am almost leaving. I wish I had more time to learn all that has been lost on me.

This I’m going to Miss!

@mossetti

MUSINGS

MUSINGS

We are young

Every self-respecting young couple in love is expected to argue about flimsy details like who rocks between Family Guy and American Dad, who is funnier between the penguins and King Julien from penguins of Madagascar. They are expected to watch Tujuane together, make faces, snigger, judge and hate while inwardly cringing as their faults, pretense and shortcomings and are laid bare on TV. Consolation, other people’s lives!

Strut Strut

Paint a picture, strut, strut, towards class. The multitude that stands outside the building clustered in small groups chattering away at the days musings as they wile away time. The unforgiving tropical sun bearing down with a vengeance! Colors, see how colorfully dressed they are? Books tucked into bags, pockets and some carried by hand they stroll away. Trousers sagged to God knows where the lads bounce along behind the ladies. A kaleidoscope of beauty and colorful garments! It is campus after all.

Grown on Liquor

By the fence they cling stubbornly holding on to dear life! Nourished at night by countless bottles of beer poured on them when the revelers have had too much to drink.  With a binge comes consequences, incidentally, an empty stomach is no friend of liquor! Everyone knows it and goes ahead to ignore it anyway! At that ungodly hour of three in the morning, holding on to the rails that act as a fence and puking their guts out, the revelers water the flowers. Before long someone assumes the shrubs  for a urinal and lets go! With daylight, the plants might perhaps get a respite, but alas! The African sun rises mean and fierce! The flowers by Vodka Martini thrive on…

Stealth

Never let them see it coming. Always look for the opportune moment when your machismo might be the only distinguishing feat that will make your bearer of the rose. Say by outshining your friends in a physical game, displaying your prowess in a debate ,heck! Even by winning beer pong! In that moment when they are still a little dumbstruck from your display, march over… Hey pretty lady?

Technicolor

Where there is smoke there is fire, stay your thoughts though and still your tongue. Burn them all you say in a dreamy haze shrouded in a cloud of smoke. There is not enough Rizla to roll up all this stuff! The philosophers jaunt in Technicolor worlds, between massive inhalations as the snapping of fingers signify passage of the joint from one person to the other!