Degrees of heat and non-existent varsities
By Peter Theuri - Jun 25th 2022
The three horses are galloping down the home stretch and the referees are looking to trip any horse they may, for any reason, so that the attention shifts to them. Academic credentials are now one of the key qualifications for one to be passed to contest as the electoral body rushes to ensure only the third horse reaches the finishing line.
Harold, whose only observed degrees were recorded on a thermal gun during screening when Covid-19 was raring its fangs, was the first to protest the requirement.
Citing an ancient Greek philosopher who said, “In heaven, there is no degree”, Harold said that he does not need a piece of paper and, for a gown, he has his cassock.
Sue, as you all know, is educated. She did not graduate though. She was taking animal husbandry - probably why she initially took Harold to be her husband. But Harold the animal showed her so much animosity she had to leave.
Yours truly, the third horse, graduated with a Bachelor's Degree. This explains why even though I am a good-looking young man albeit with no iota of wealth on me, I am not interested in settling down with anyone. This is because I learnt how to be a bachelor.
Once the electoral body had passed me to run with my bachelor’s, Sue consulted and came saying she had a spinster’s. She was immediately assured that her name would be on the ballot.
Harold later came to say that he had studied in the school of life and was the only man the public had witnessed wear a graduation gown. He said that last Sunday he had done two consecutive readings in church, where he does everything except helping the less fortunate.
But just as the debate was raging, we realised that Sue, who excels in Chemistry and can titrate acids to make basic alcohol, which she reserves for Harold and others who drink on credit, might not have a credible degree.
The electoral body found out that a spinster was an unmarried woman, typically an older woman beyond the usual age for marriage.
“You are marriageable and we would like to know which institution conferred to you your spinster’s,” a message from the chairman of the Degree Organisation of Gitegi (DOG) read.
“We demand to see your lecturers, their spouses, their pets, the cup you used on your first day in school, the text message you sent Harold informing of how the school atmosphere was when you arrived, and a pair of dreams you had on your first night in school hostels.”
Sue insisted that she studied in the neighbouring village, where Clarissa comes from. The school was called Spinster’s Teaching University of Persons Interested in Defense (STUPID) and only taught those who knew they had to defend their credentials at some point.
Contacted, the university, which we realised was created that same day, defended Sue’s degree, even sending a thermometer that we could use to test and ascertain that she had many more, maybe well over 37.
When we finally decided to grill Harold on his school of life degree, we realised that the schools he purported to attend did not exist, or had enrolled everyone we knew. The school of life, which he said was pioneered when he was a young man, had been in existence since the Big Bang Theory. I also realised that I had, without knowing it, gone through the school.
“The big question,” asked the electoral body, “is where is your degree? Why has it taken you so long to graduate?”
Because maybe the only way he will graduate from the school of life is when he kicks the bucket, and we only have one bucket in the house, which we use as a kitchen seat.
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