I don’t know about you, but I have a feeling that graduation celebrations are overrated. If you ask me, what is there to celebrate?
Neena Verma, in her book a Mother’s Cry wrote, “There are words like orphan, widow and widower in all languages. But there is no word in any language to describe a parent who loses a child. How does one describe the pain of ultimate bereavement?!”
What graduating students and their parents ought to celebrate, is being alive after four years of an uncertain life away from their parents.
That aside, it tickled me three or four Fridays ago to watch a whole load of relatives from upcountry disembarking from a shuttle, ululations parachuting from their mouths, their bodies wavering in rhythms of song and dance, celebrating their kin, who most likely, for four years, fornicated, drunk the HELB loan bila kusita and who attained money from parents and relatives by means of falsehood and pretence to further a life of debauchery within and without the halls of academia.
Tell me, what is there to celebrate? Attainment of a degree? When degrees in this time and era are not far from an error?
Picture relation after relation hugging and congratulating a graduand who can’t remember zilch what he or she has studied or worse, how to put the knowledge to practice. Isn’t the image comic?
Then the educated fool, filled with happiness and a sense of satisfaction, clogs our Facebook timelines with pictures in a gown and captions like: ‘Thank God, we made it’ or ‘Finally! 8-4-4 system is over!’
Worth a well-intended mention are the brothers and sisters who studied. Took time. Learned the art or science in courses they chose to study and graduated having been honest in their academic lives. May you remember to be men and women of excellence and not success as Einstein put it.
It defies happiness to party, dance and eat too much just because you graduated when in reality, you have nothing ‘to do with yourself’ the following day.