I write this from the staffroom where I’m undertaking my teaching practice. The name of the school is withheld for the purpose of anonymity lest I blow my cover. Today I open my much hidden book of secrets which I hold so dear in my heart.
I am a third year student pursuing a Bachelor of Education at the much celebrated Egerton University and if I don’t get any retakes or missing marks you’re welcomed to my after 8-4-4 party next year in late May. It’s also important to note that I’ve been a single man, though I have occasionally had innumerable crushes.
Towards the end of last semester seven of my close friends did the unexpected-they confessed and professed their love to their girlfriends, as if not enough they moved in with them. While all this took place I was a depressed man, the closest I had come to romance was during a play we were rehearsing and I altered the stage directions in a hugging scene and added the stage directions ‘gives her a peck’ though the director later noticed the mischief and immediately withdrew my privileges.
I then promised myself that academic year 2016/2017 should find me with a new catch in my crib lying on my rib. One who calls me pumpkin and I call her munchkin, one who doesn’t drink beer, I call her cheerleader, smooch her then whisper dear I’m here, one will call me honey, lighten my lonely life not for money but out of love.
This burning desire will remain a wishful thought till Kingdom comes if I don’t maximise this quickly fading long recess which unfortunately finds me in a four months attachment. Luckily I’m near campus where ‘fellow’ engineering and medicine students are in session. As the old adage goes tough times call for desperate measures. Fortunately, me and I consulted and unanimously agreed to test the waters and try my luck with a medicine student- female of course-(I thought you should know).
Social convention dictates that a man should always be ahead of his woman in all aspects ranging from career to salary. Being an education student, this one time noble career has been degraded by wretched quacks masquerading as teachers coupled with poor judicial and government policies while medicine continues to pride as a thriving career at the pinnacle of professional hierarchy.
Conscious of this shocking reality I had to consult the Sacco and device a plan. This was after I met Julie (of course not her real name) one afternoon when I was grabbing fries in the FASS cafeteria. She solitudly gulped yoghurt in the table beside me. How and why we swiped contacts remains a mystery for the future generation. Her physique can only be best described by the paradoxical Songs of Solomon 7: 1. How graceful are your feet in sandals, O queenly maiden! Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the work of a master hand…
She is in her second year of study, meaning she is a newcomer to serious relationship stuff. We had a little chit-chat and at first sight we already had a lot in common. She is a sitcom fanatic so am I. She hates hockey so do I. She loves cooking so do I, like me she has not been to the moon, lobsters and jelly fish are no where near her diet again like me, just to mention a few. We were a jigsaw fit and blowing this would throw me into the bottomless pit of guilt and regret.
As part of the clandestine scheme, I told her that I was a third year, pursuing clinical medicine. I managed to quell her inquisitiveness on why she hadn’t seen me in health science events with a scapegoat of my introvert nature. Since then she and I have been getting along well having occasional dinner, moonwalks, lengthy talks, weekend outings etc.
But it all comes with a cost. Yesterday I picked my newly sewn lab coat from Jakadero Tailors in Njokerio centre. I started following Dr. Salim, Health Sciences Congress on twitter, I also get updates from my ‘classrep’ just to be abreast with new developments and classes. I also begun attending Thursday’s Medicine Students fellowship in A1 Hall. On my reading list lies huge volumes of medicine books to counter my intellectual bankruptcy in this new field. I have had to fake assignments and library sessions to erase any cloud of suspicion. So far so good, I’m now half a doctor, I can quote a number of medical terminologies without fumbling. This morning I secured a stethoscope which I’m willing to donate in case of a break up. (Saitan! God forbid).
My life is taking a new leap. At the moment I’m ahead of schedule in my relationship calendar. Julie and I are getting closer each day. The flame of passion and romance is growing daily. I have laid open my intentions and she is fully into it.
Though I am happy and contended, fear still grips me, rhetorics boggle up my mind, what if she discovers my impersonation? What if a lonely hyena (use the Swahili version) whom we have political and ideological differences decide to sell me out? Only time will tell, for now we’re inseparable lovebirds, deep in my heart I mumble to myself a ‘enjoy while it lasts’ mantra.
This Friday Julie and I are having our first date, and as they say ‘a good date ends with dinner but a perfect date ends with breakfast’. Both the latter and the later will be fine. I can see light at the end of the tunnel, but who knows what it is? It could be another train coming!