Exams…terenteren

So I havent stepped foot in a class the whole of this sem, and am only saying this because my mum does’t read this blog. And now my exams are on my ass, and the narrator from 300 keeps mocking me with his chants. “Leonidas, now as then, was faced by a beast. Patient and strong. Eyes fiery, from the very pits of hell. Now as then, it’s not fear that grips him, but a heightened sense of things” (God, those lines are awesome.)

But then I remember that mine is not a battle, with swords and shields, though sometimes I wish it was, for then I would know that if I failed, I’d die. Now that I can work with. However, the daunting public humiliation of a resit is on that my poor soul cannot bear. A man can never be ready for what awaits him on the other side of failing an exam.

You can handle the ridicule from friends and foe, but what you can’t handle is the self doubt and recrimination. The self loathing. Luckily, I’ve never been lucky enough to fail an exam and feel this disbasement.

But not being a sad blogger (in other words, a happy one…smiling as I watch the mdosi dose at her desk, and as I crank up “Start it up!”) , I will proceed to breakdown how I have managed, almost in spite of myself, to baffle examiners from various institutions, with the lucidity and ease of expression, a command and mastery of the issues and a boyish and lively approach to matters as grave as the Doha Round and the Direct Participation in Hostilities.

I create a series of photos in my mind. For instance, when I think of my girlfriend, I think of her in the loveliest of short dresses. Then my blood boils, for a minute, and then I call her to know if she’s doing ok, she picks up the phone, my blood boils a little more, and then the mdosi stirs from her slumber and orders me to go to the stock room and do a recount of the “DRC Rebels and Adherence to IHL” videos, work that I did yesterday. My blood stops boiling as I proceed to jump off my seat like I was the one dosing.

When I think of mum, I remember drinking rosemary tea and chilling on the sofa, trying to come up with another money making scheme; before John Matawi calls me to confirm if Evening Congress is still on, at kitu 8.30, and that I shud shuka with the Fringe DVD. Man si that stuff is on point.

When I think of my neeighbours, I remember a time when I was slightly inebriated, at Outspan, the night had drugged on for a while and the cold had started to bite. And an idea came upon one Cynthia that we should “tear down the dance floor”, in a manner of speaking of course. So the gang was assembled, 7 man strong, and what proceeded ought never to be disclosed to potential employers. for these guys will embarrass you so much at the office party, you’ll have to fire them come New Year. Suffice it to say, that all I remember is “whipping my hair back and forth.” Yes, a whole Meru man, whipping his “hair” back and forth. Heavens help us.

When am thinking about the legal regime governing land tenure and transactions in Kenya, I envision an Arab (LTA), followed by the Government Seal (GLA) followed by fireworks (RLA) and finally an Indian’s shop getting razed to the ground by a freak fire. It works, but only if you don’t stretch it too far.

Today’s the 24th of February, and by kesho am supposed to have completed two reports and an assignment. And her I am, busy on youtube, and chatting with God knows who, while I have really important things to be done. That is simply tragic.

So I discovered an eatery within the office compound, where guys go to have lunch and talk shit about everything, including the boss. Especially the boss. Apart from when the boss attends one of our Hawaii meetings, and the mood is so sad, she decides never to have lunch there again, admonishing us to cheer up. (Bam! Plan worked like a wonder.) We get to kick off our shoes, quite literally, lay on the lawn, or simply sit on one of those chairs that fold funny and swallow you if you sit on them too quickly. So #Muamar Gadaffi, if that’s how they spell your name, the message from Hawaii is that you shud step down real quick, and am not writing you a post, #Mubarak was the last I did.

My leave for 2 weeks starts kesho, and am beginning it with the traditional line up of white cap light, at a watering hole near you.