Visiting day on campus

Having attended Mwisho wa Lami Primary School and Mwisho wa Lami Mixed Day Secondary School, visiting day was something I never experienced. In fact, before last weekend, the only other time I was ever visited was while at Kilimambogo TTC by my brother Pius.

I don’t like remembering that visit. It was my last term there and Pius had just got a job and paid a quarter of my college fees that term. While other visitors carried large paper bags bearing sugar, juice, biscuits, margarine, Pius only had a newspaper.

“We are really toiling out there to get money to pay for your fees,” he said. “You therefore need to work extra hard in your studies and graduate with first class honours.” Pius went on to lecture me on how life out there was hard.

I had thought having come empty-handed, he would leave me with some good money. But, after a one-hour lecture, he gave me Sh100.

“Uchumi ni mbaya,” he said sternly, “tumia hii pesa vizuri.” He did not even leave the newspaper.

Although he paid only a quarter of my fees during my last term at Kilimambogo, Pius keeps telling everyone how he educated me when I was in college.

I may have missed being visited at school and college but, last week, I was visited big time.

Now you will remember the differences we had with Aunt Albina a few weeks ago when I preferred to watch an Ingwe match rather than travel with her housegirl back home. After that episode, Auntie Albina and I never “heard ear to ear”.

But a few days after I landed in Nairobi, she called. “I want you to talk to your young cousins and encourage them to be successful in life like you,” she said. “Are you allowed visitors at KU?” she asked.

“Come any day,” I replied.

“Tukuletee nini?” she asked.

I did not have to think too much about what they could bring me. “Quencher, scones, sugar, cocoa and unga ya kusiaga,” I said. I was broke.

The week before, I had been swimming in money, doing booming business at KU, and making good profits. But, as I came to realise, enemies of development are everywhere, and they don’t sleep.

Someone reported this to the university administration and, on the day when we had put all the money in new stock, security officers waylaid us, and confiscated it all.

With a roommate like Wesonga, life was difficult as the only thing he could provide in the room was himself. Aunt Albina’s intended visit could not have come at a better time.

Wesonga was very happy to hear that my aunt would be visiting me the next day. “Huyo Albino mwambie atuokolee,” he said, “tuko mbaya sana.”

That morning, as I left for the library, I asked Wesonga to clean the room. At the library all I thought of what Aunt Albina would bring. I drew up several budgets depending on the money she was likely to give me.

Unable to concentrate, I left the library and started walking back to the hostel. Now, if you have never been to KU, you should know that the university is as big as a city: it has many streets and avenues, a roundabout, skyscrapers, a stadium, a railway station and even a mortuary.