I don’t have to excuse myself to scribble on this space-in fact, the joke is entirely on me. No one asked me to excuse myself…But talking of excuses, I do feel there is a group of people who I must grudgingly tender my excuses to.
The misters and misses so and so, who educated or not, feel the need to tarnish the name of the Kenyan undergraduate. These are blokes who in so many clear terms, you’ll find (mostly in overloaded matatus or snazzy tea-joints in town) bickering on and on about how campus students have become shenanigans, malenges, a thorn in everyone’s a* and so on and on.
More often than not, they will go down the memory lanes, compare and contrast the current scholar with last century’s scholars-the likes of akina Anyang Nyong’o, and lament how political zest has sizzled out of our universities.
It’s this kind of talk that makes me want to retort with something like, ‘Why don’t you just haul Anyang’s a* back to Kilimanjaro hostels, Mzee Moi back the throne and derepell(wtf is the opposite of repel?) Section 2A of the constitution!’ you may then get lucky to spot me in the streets of Nairobi singing bado mapambano and other Saba-Saba affiliated hits.
A friend of mine tried to convince me that campus political activism fizzled out with the success of the second liberation and the subsequent end of the Moi regime. Yes and no, I agreed and disagreed.
Disagreed because he tried to paint the Kibaki government like the harmonious board of angels in heaven after Lucifer had been shown the red-card and shoved to where the sun never shines. No regime lacks its excesses to fuel civil activism, I argued.
And I agreed because, even tho we were not taught this in LIT 101, we all know the 2nd group of ‘freedom fighters’ shortchanged us by abandoning the real motives of their course once they caught the smell of honey and milk wafting from a harlot’s kitchen disguised like the promised land. Greedily, they settled for this and abandoned the real course of the liberation. And so when the freshman joined campus, he was greeted by the lure of ‘the fight is over.’
In abandoning the fight half-way, this group of second liberators also revealed their real drive. They were a selfish, power-hungry lot, and their fight should be classified under the tales that try to explain that old adage of the sage who said the end justifies the means!
It is this highly contagious selfishness portrayed by the second liberators that the current undergraduate mushrooms upon. We refuse to verge into the betrayal-laden world of martyrdom due to the dishonor that the surviving liberators treats their fallen heroes to.
So, instead of running the streets screaming to hell with unpopular government policies, dudes prefer to sit in the students center discussing who’s-banging-who and which babe has got a killer anatomical scape.
In the process we guzzle enough cheap liquor to jump start a fire engine. Nationalism is relegated to a far backbench as we pursue more pressing needs (libidos is the befitting word, nay for the puritanical among us).
Our ladies became obsessed with social networks, with the constant hope of snagging a Mr. Moneybags for the weekend rave, romp and unlicensed barter trade between money and sex. Their relationships became complicated to a point of making Mercy Keino’s murder debacle appear like a scene form a badly scripted and directed Nigerian film.
Then came that other degree program, PSSP (which The Commission for Higher Education has revealed that it had initially construed to mean Poor Scoring Students Program).
To attract unsuspecting naive and vulnerable form four leavers with a thirst for higher education, and make some money they decided to change the acronym to stand for what it stands for today).
Anyway, to make the long story short, the programme hammered in the last nail on the prestigious coffin of campus political activism.
I won’t say I’m sorry, nor do I imply that I have anything against the prestigious students who attain their degrees via this avenue. The truth of the matter though remains that most institutions have abused this thing called PSSP in pursuit of money.
But that is also not my point. My point is this: most of these buggers hail from the right side of the status quo, and so when they see you start running the streets calling for equality, employment opportunities and what-a-few, they call for a cold Tusker, lean back and enjoy the show. So much for comradeship, ehh?.
And you dare ask where comrades power disappeared to.
So the next time I hear the Mr. and Mrs. so and so bickering about this, I’ll surely give em this piece of my mind in the form of the excuse I mentioned earlier, though it won’t be the conventional polite schoolboy hands-folded-to-the-back excuse. It’ll b the kind of excuse that Lady Gaga, Ciku Muiruri or Kalekye would lash on a shagmodz who try to box em’ in using last century’s pick-up lines. The one that is dished out hands akimbo, neck doing something akin to that ka-chinese dance in Madtraxx’s video, eyes rolling like new marbles on a cemented floor, all coordinating wt the lips and the tongue to spat out, ‘puhleez, excuse me’ the ‘mscheew’ and the ‘nkt’ all in one split second.