I am about to finish college in a few months if the system at Woi University maintains the peace.
I have been so used to grades and As in school that I don’t know how I will handle stuff.
I am uneasy. Without these systems in place, I don’t even understand how to gauge success.
When do I graduate into the next stage in life? And what I’m I even graduating to?
Yes, I have made some progress in life, but what is this progress even?
When I look at my more mainstream colleagues, I feel like the black sheep of the family.
The last time I shaved my hair, I was a handsome young man dancing gully creeper in high school. If you danced gully creeper and you are not married by now, my fren, you should be playing poker with Mugabe.
Also, I don’t own a single piece of suit. I don’t even know where they are brought. My 21-year-old girlfriend jokes that she will leave me for Harvey Specter if I don’t suit up. Who the hell is Harvey Specter by the way?
I put such high standards for myself that I feel like a failure anytime none of them is unaccomplished. I don’t like asking for free things I am a fanatic of Willy Pozee and Willy Pozee would be ashamed of me I took free stuff. Call me Kothe mtoto wa Akothee.
Now, there is this 21-year-old wealthy AF golden-brown girl who sits across me at work. But first, a disclaimer. Dear Lord, please let my girlfriend see only the good side of the following sentences because hey I like this girl in particula. And I will take her to Canaan, the land of milk and honey. And just like baba, I will also have a tallying center for our love in the clouds. Cloud 9.
So this chic, let’s call her Tea, because whenever she is around I am always thirsty, and you know me, I don’t drink alcohol. I am a tee-totaler. Face-palm.
She is from USIU. You know them? The ones that use Deerra Benels. What? Mh? Oh right. Data bundles. She keeps taking these long phone calls that have single handily handed Bob Collymore one more reason to call more.
Question, do you remember what the Israelites ate on the way to Canaan? So if a person ate manna with their mouth open, is that what is called bad manners? Ha ha.
One of my favorite writers Biko Zulu warns against writing only when you have inspiration. I guess he is right; I mean when you have bills to pay, nigga you will write your ass off. Not that I have any notable ass to write off.
She is brown like sandpaper and everyone at work makes dabs at me because we get along. She blocks off everyone except me. Plus I think she is naïve. I am a hustler gonna defile her imagination. They think, or rather they imagine that I have hots for her, but I don’t. I merely consider her a friend. Here is where the feminists come to tell me I’m getting defensive.
But I dedicate this to all of us who struggle with labels. By the way, if you are not dating a slay queen, get down and propose my nigga! As Methu Muthee would say, even the sun goes down.
Things are hard, but what is an easy life?
My pastor says that this is the year of elevation. But I’m scared AF! I don’t know how to adult around. I am the first born and hey you will always find me in pyjamas and a long shirt that I always steal from bae. Lol. That word sounds like Danish poop.
But I am sure I will make it. What’s the hard part, other than making decisions?
And cooking? And washing clothes?
Speaking of clothes, did I tell you about how Mama wa Nguo the other day texted me into an embarrassment.
Mama Njeri: Endu, leo uko na nguo shafu za kufuriwo?
Son of Man Endu: eeeh, kwanza ziko na mashakura
Mama Njeri: sawa, toa nguo nakam
An hour later, I hear a knock on the door.
“Come in.” I bellow.
“wuuuuiii!!! Woooooii!!!! Canajehovah!!!! Endu vaa nguo!! Woiii!!!!”
I was naked! All I was wearing was a smile and a cucumber emoji. Long story short, when she said ‘Toa nguo nakam,’ she actually meant I should take my dirty clothes outside.
As you were.
*Regular posts resume every Thursday 12 PM.*