Thursday 21 January 2016

CAMPUS BLUES


The school gate.            

Once more it is my favourite time of the semester, reporting week. Don’t get me wrong, to many going back to school sucks big time for various reasons: it could be  that they are being separated from their loved  ones and are genuinely distraught, others hate the school routine and would rather binge watch ‘Scandal' season after season while stuffing their faces with junk and live on vampire time zone (movies through the nights and sleeping at daytime), most hate school cause their minds have been preprogrammed to hate school since childhood and the last in this category hate school because their friends hate school, simple.

But for the other category, me included we do love reporting back to school. Not because we miss the endless, torturous lectures or the eerie environment of the Post Modern Library, no thanks but because school provides us with a much needed holiday camp. Some of us want a breather from the 9-5 internship we prematurely volunteered for only to discover that we are not ready for the career world and so we need to catch up on our sleep. I know of a some who want to reunite with their friends and loved ones, carry on with the mischief that the campus environment provides and participate in potentially destructive activities that their strict and God fearing parents would drown themselves in holy water if they found them partaking. The rest are a balance between those who are bored and tired of idling in the village and those who can’t wait to splurge their HELB money.

All in all, school is back on and boy don’t I love the signature atmosphere of a fresh semester. Pomp, color, fashion and glamour. I am talking about people with flashy hairdos, am talking weaves, braids and interesting haircuts died in all seven colors of the rainbow, destined to last them a month, or two...and a half? Fresh new outfits that will be converted to mitumba once the semester took a turn, and the same people would be hawking them for half the price in the hostels and the occasional group and clutter of students sharing the juicy details of their holiday escapades, roaring laughter being the only giveaway of how ghory their tales may be. Reporting week would not be complete without the signature view of majority of male students hunched over with massive sacks of maize, enough to feed a family of five for a semester, crawling their way to the hostels.

The gate, by night 

The guards call the students to pick their luggage from the the waiting tent and it’s the last call for registration. And as the sun sinks away in the horizon, I hear the fading vocals of some zilizopendwa song at the registration podium. Day 1 was a success. I cannot wait for the scramble for last minute online registration and fee payment by the remainder of the students famously referred to as #teamdeadline. This will in deed be an interesting semester.


No comments:

Post a Comment