I was dry! Or rather my spirit was down low. I desired someone to water my withering heart; to purge my emotions; to relieve me of the burden that made life a hellous nightmare. So I tried hard to find one.
I traversed in the vast wilderness of the campus in quest for a soul-mate. It was no easy task but pressed on. Where there was no will, I corrupted my way into every place—including those inscribed: ‘’Mbwa kali’’ and ‘’trespassers shall be prosecuted.’’ I knocked at every door but to my surprise, all were locked! I hated to imagine everything good is taken and there is none left for me.
Just as I was about to give up, something happened. While scrambling for a way through the partially dark corridors of hostel H with ‘’pirates’’ on my way to exile, bumped into my desire: a senorita. The lady of my dreams beautiful enough to deserve my love captivated me via her smile. I couldn’t just let her go without throwing a vibe.
The conversation protracted for quite long. Though she was the one leadng, my tongue failed to articulate what the heart dictated. Besides, I was baffled this awesome lass and was yet to come to terms with my conscience that angels, indeed exist. Before I could switch to my sixth sense, an acre of a man emerged from nowhere, if not hell, and took her away. Never to smile at me again, I helplessly watched my catch disappear.
In ‘exile’ I found my host, Kiwi, amid a love crisis. He was about to be torn apart by yet other three pretty queens. Each claimed ultimate ownership of his manhood. He had been refereeing their showdown without any favour. They had now ganged up against him with rain of blows that was ravaging his skin, neither Batista nor Donnie yen could withstand.
Having my share of the blows my intervention quelled the war which was turning to be a free film. What stung my mind was: how could such beautiful ladies fight over a man like Kiwi and leave a few handsome gentlemen like me languishing in abject desperation? Indeed love is unfair: we hurt those aren’t ready to hurt but are hurt by those we are not ready to hurt.
As an arbitrator, I convinced one to remain with Kiwi; later escorted the others to their hostels. In the course of the journey I fell for one; the choice I yearned for.
When we arrived in her room, she busied herself with cooking. I wasn’t for the idea. For the delay could weaken my roaring appetite. Thereafter, we thought it wise to take a bath—to be fresh after loading our food closets. But no sooner had we reached the bathroom than a security-man emerged. He fumed and almost burst with rage. You would think that I was holding his daughter. What I read on his face assured me of impending trouble: probably a suspension. My blood ran cold like the unfriendly weather of Moi University. For my safety, he ‘advise’ that I vanish. Though physically and psychologically prepared to feast on honey, my day was ruined. What an ‘unhonourable embarrassement’!