Sabaki 12 – A Walk Down Campus Lane

Everyone has that point in their life when they can say, “this is where it all started”. For me, that was the day I stepped into Sabaki 12.

Do you remember when you first joined campus? The date? Your first class? Friends? I do. I remember everything.

I remember Laikipia University. I remember being driven by my parents all the way from Kisumu because I had refused to study in a university close to home. I wanted to explore Kenya. Anything was up for grabs for me. I didn’t know exactly what university I wanted, but I knew the ones I didn’t want. I did not want Maseno University. Not because it is a bad university, but because I felt I would have been limited. I mean I would have gone to primary, secondary and campus along the same road! I am an adventurous person.

I remember how green Laikipia was. How secluded. How far it felt from home. I remember how lonely it felt when we drove through the university gate. I once read a joke online that for those of us who went to boarding schools at a young age, we don’t miss anyone. Funny, sad, but also kind of true. I mean we do miss people; we just know how to live without them in proximity. It becomes normal. But it doesn’t mean there isn’t a slight feeling of loneliness when you realize you are about to be left alone in a foreign land.

I remember the cold. Oh, the cold chilly evenings of Laikipia. Before going to Laikipia, I assumed it was a hot place. But the welcoming chill that was there spoke something different. I was quite relieved I must say. I can’t stand the heat. Ironic, considering I ‘grew up’ in Kisumu. See, by age 10, I was in a boarding school in Maseno (a cold place), then went to high school in the cold sides of Siaya. I got so used to the cold that anytime I was home for the holidays, I would rarely go out. Heat became my enemy. Laikipia’s cold was much welcome.

I remember the registration process. The lines were as per the different schools and luckily for me, those from my school did not arrive very early so our line was short. The staff at the registration desks were friendly, save for one person (a finance guy). I did not have an ID yet and the man tried to make it seem like it was a problem, which was not the case. When he eventually cleared me, he introduced another problem. Apparently, the university staff had a tendency to sell the double rooms meant for first years to the continuing students. I had already paid for my double room (I was actually among the first people to pay) and the man took my pay slip, disappeared for five minutes and when he came back, he said I had not paid for the room so he couldn’t allocate a room to me. The guy had my receipt! He even insisted that I hadn’t given him any receipt. Long story short, I eventually got the room I had paid for when I raised the matter loudly. I also had witnesses backing me up.

My room was in Sabaki Hostel. Room 12. Sabaki 12.

I remember my roommates. I forgot the name of my first roommate immediately after she told me. But what I could remember was her jacket. A blue jacket with purple highlights. My roommate and I got along very well. Our values were aligned and so we didn’t have differences. We stayed together for that year, and when we were moving out of the campus hostels, she went to stay with her classmate, and I stayed with a friend who used to live in the room opposite ours. My second roommate was my roommate until we finished campus. The escapades we had in those three years need a post of its own. One day I will talk about it. But this one would need a two-person point of view. I’d like to see her perspective of our campus life.

I remember my first friend. It did help that my first friend was also my course mate. By extension, her roommate also became my friend. The three of us completely skipped the orientation program after being bored out of our minds on the first day. We opted to explore Nyahururu town instead. Skipping orientation on that day caused one of the biggest ripple effects in my life. It was one of the best decisions I ever made because everything about me changed on that day, all based on that decision.

I wrote about my first campus friend on a different post. You can read all about it here. It was one of my most vulnerable posts.

I remember the lectures. I never missed the first lectures of any unit. I always wanted to get the feel of each class at the very beginning. There was one common unit though that I only knew about on the day of the first CAT. It was a good thing the class had not gone too far, and most questions were general application questions. I also remember another common unit where the lecturer gave us a CAT in the second half of a class. The questions were all based on what he had just taught, and the class was not fully listening. From that day, I always paid full attention in classes. I remember our French class. I could read and write French. But I couldn’t speak French to save my life. I think I will pick this up again with Duo Lingo. My classes were all good, and I don’t remember having a problem with any lecturer.

I remember the quiet weekends. When there was nothing much to do. When the sun came out and the clothes in the hanging lines finally dried up. When we took our hostel seats outside and basked in the sun or went to the field and watched the rugby team. When we would braid and unbraid each other’s hair while telling endless stories. When we would eat junk food and sleep the afternoons away. When we bought the latest movies and series and entertained ourselves. When we went for sleepovers with friends. When we went into town for the sake of it. Our quiet weekends were just that. Quiet, and still fun.

I remember the weekend CUs in campus. I will admit I did stray away from them. Not because I left Christianity or anything. But the duration of the services! Goodness! How can one service start at 8:30am and end past 1pm? Surely, I don’t have that kind of concentration. By 9:30 I had switched off. The biggest problem with the campus CUs for me was the unnecessary announcements. These would take up to 40minutes, and all before the sermon. I then had a choice to make, either arrive early and leave at the announcements or go later after announcements and only get the sermon. I picked option two most times. But even the sermons were very long! Over one hour! I am an Anglican, most of our sermons take at most 20-30mins. Beyond that, you’re on your own. Let me just say I was spiritually starved in campus.

I remember the games we played. Poker. Truth or dare. Name it. It was in campus that I learnt how to count card. I also realized in truth or dare, I should always pick truth. I used to pick dare because I thought my friends would be reasonable, but I had insane friends. The first dare was for me to walk around our hostel without a shirt on. The second time I played this game I was dared to flirt with one of my bandmates and convince them I was into them. The third time, I found myself with ridiculous make-up and a sufuria on my head. This had to be my profile picture for a while as part of the dare. When I say my friends were insane, I count myself there as well. In one of our games, we made one of us make out with a chair! Let’s just say the stories of these games also deserve their own posts.

I remember our first university strike. I was a first-year student. It was a Sunday morning and while people were on their way to church, a car hit one of the students and sped off. From what the stories were, it was a car belonging to someone known. The students who witnessed this raised the alarm immediately and things happened so fast. My roommate had gone to church. I was still in the room. The hostel was very quiet, not because it was empty but most people who were in, were still sleeping. The next thing we knew, students were out of the different churches and hostels and were engaging in running battles with the police. I could hear teargas cannisters from a distance. This went on from morning until late afternoon when the university was indefinitely closed. Students had until 5pm to vacate the university. I had no idea where my roommate was at the time (and later learnt she had escaped to a certain hill side of the campus with other students and waited out). We eventually connected and left campus together with another friend.

I remember the Garissa attack. I can’t even begin to explain the feelings we all had when this happened.

I remember the relationships and situationships. Of all my stories and all that I remember, this is the part that needs its own post the most. It is also the part that would be best told from everyone’s point of view. And if memory serves, I don’t think some would be willing to. Let me rephrase, there are some points of view that I’d rather not hear or read. There were funny moments, happy ones, and some sad ones. I may even be a villain in some.

I did mention I was in a band. Oh, this was short lived fun. We called ourselves the Five O’clock Band. The reason was we were meeting at 5pm. We started off well, and had a few gigs in school, but when we went on a long holiday, we kind of just drifted apart. Some guys continued with the band and even started a YouTube channel. I had really hoped they would have blown up by now.

I remember honing my literally skills while in campus. I remember reading every Kenyan blog that existed. People used to write! I remember doing a few myself. Rediscovering my relationship with the pen. Transcribing my thoughts. I remember being interviewed by a writer I truly admired and the publicity I used to get whenever I did a random post on social media. I nowadays prefer my anonymity. I prefer watching on the sidelines or just being behind the scenes.