The predicaments of a University finalist: 4th year rusting is real

The class representative is already troubling your inbox with messages of course registration, choosing “electives” and whatnot [PHOTO: COURTESY]

It is about 3 weeks past opening of the semester and somewhere you are still contemplating returning to school. The class representative is already troubling your inbox with messages of course registration, choosing “electives” and whatnot.

Your last batch of HELB loan came about a year ago in the first semester of 3rd year, and you spent it in some way you’d be haunted if asked to account for it. So you have to think twice, thrice and four times before reporting.

Your 3 month internship too has left you poorer than before. The employer wasn’t paying any dimes for your services, and all you had was to fend for yourself. After all, you were more than desperate for the experience. And they worked you like a donkey, at the expense of the regular employees; including everything outside the job description.

“Tell the INTERN to get us some coffee!” “Boss unataka credo? Duka ni mbali, send the intern.”

To make it worse, you were the chap who traveled all the way from the village to the city for a “solid working experience”. So you resided with your uncle in Kibera, Aunt in Mwiki or cousin in South-C and commuted every day to the city centre, forgoing lunch, and having to trek long distances just to save on bus fare. Now you are thinner than the mosquito legs you used write about in primary school compositions.

By the time you report to school, the Head of Department is already pressuring you to submit reports. In fact you don’t have the format yet. Then times start flying, projects are needed and your supervisor too has no time for you because he/she is busy minting cash elsewhere on part-time lecturing.

Rusting is real; you start wearing out, tired and drained. Whenever an agenda pops up of results and missing marks, you don’t want to hear it since you are a big victim. Chasing the lecturers too is not bearing any fruit. It now becomes clearer that even graduation is never guaranteed; you’ll cross the bridge when you reach it.

On the other side, there’s too much noise in campus, chants and door-to-door campaigns, MUSO this, MUSO that! It is the election period and you are so aloof! Life has lost value to you, and the least you would want to hear is someone stopping you on the hall way or knocking at your door to tell you how his “policies” will improve your life in campus. You are not interested. It’s way too late. Perhaps joining SEC (Student Electoral Commission) might be the only consolation you’ll get; but just for a week. And among the 3000 of your lot, SEC only takes 50.

Days move faster than you desire, you start missing campus and hate it so much at the same time. You realise very soon you’ll go to a world that doesn’t care. A world that doesn’t know you, a world that won’t protect you like campus did. Your status will be reduced; jobless, tarmacker, bachelor etc. And the bachelor bit? It is the biggest horror of all; 4 years and you didn’t get a soul-mate. Worse is a lady, whose older 4th year “boyfriends” ditched her while she was at second year. Now you are single and horrible, and it might take the next 10 or 15 years to settle down.