It is time lecturers left campus hotties for comrades

 A closer look revealed it was my Probability and Statistics lecturer and one of the beauties from our class, Tracy,with,the long legs

I consume an average of six chapatis a day; three at lunch time, and another three during dinner. And I always take my chapatis with beans, or - as we like to call it - madondo. Which means, I take an average of two plates of madondo on a good day.

So, when my stomach started rumbling last week, a friend of mine said, “Chief, si it’s time you laid off madondo for about a week or so, ama? And that hurt my feelings, because I couldn’t imagine a life without my beloved madondo (don’t even mention chapati).

But I agreed to let go because the rumbling in my stomach was beginning to subject me to untold embarrassment by coming out at the most inappropriate times.

Like, say, the lecturer would be dictating notes in class and the whole room would be silent and then, out of the bloody blues, Grrrrrrrrr. Or, maybe, I would be at a female classmate’s room in Ndovu Hostels, pretending to help her study work while, really, just staring at her mammary glands and then, Grrrrrrrrr; the growl of a mad bulldog.

Do you know how embarrassing and difficult it is for everyone to turn to look at you and then you trying to convince them that you didn’t break wind, that you’re just having a bad stomach?

Anyway, so I agreed to lay off madondo for a while. And that is how I landed at Senate Hotel the other day; to treat myself to a nice little plate of rice and beef. I was midway through the meal when I noticed two very familiar characters walk in, hand in hand.

A closer look revealed it was my Probability and Statistics lecturer and one of the beauties from our class, Tracy,with,the long legs (Yes, you have to say it that way, in full.)

They took a table at the corner and ordered what I think was chicken wings and ugali. When they were done, the lecturer ordered a bottle of whiskey (it was bloody 2pm, I should add) and they drank and made merry, with the lecturer’s hands all over Tracy-with-the-long-legs’ thighs, waist, chest, face, hair, nose, ears, back, arms, and hips.

All this while, I had finished my meal – disgustedly – and was now nursing a bottle of some frothy drink.

It got me thinking, why can’t lecturers leave 'our' girls alone and go stay home with their wives and kids. Before I left that restaurant, two things ran across my mind. One; Tracy-with-the-long-legs will get an automatic ‘A’ in Probability and Statistics this semester. Two; What type of grown man buys a young campus girl whiskey at 2 pm?