TusomeNaOluh

I remember growing back in the dusty tarmacs of Huruma, H town they call it. We all lived like one big family, your immediate neighbour would whip you when you forgot to take a shower or even a simple childish mistake like missing to aim the hole when answering an urgent call of nature. I remember brushing shoulders with one of my mates when his mother slapped me for making a fountain with urine,  boys we all agree that this was one of the reason we drank a lot of water, to see who could make the highest fountain. I guess this is where we learned the art of endurance. Hitch hiking was another fun moment that nobody could afford to miss. As for me, I never enjoyed this , it was meant to torture us, One day I vividly recall a friend of mine, Victor, hugging the ugly tarmac with his pot belly just because of not adhering to some simple physics, the force of inertia, as for those who can't relate, explaining it will make it loose the humor intended. Victor is still crippled to date,

Mr. Prof, first i would like to congratulate you for your newly acquired status. Its never easy getting to the helm of any large institution, and Moi university was no exception. Work has to continue, prof Laban did much as the acting VC and that's why most of us feel that he was short changed but lets hope you will fill in his shoes. Firstly, the ongoing gate construction has been long over due, Hope this will be your number one agenda in making Moi University great again. As much as we appreciate Prof. Laban's effort to uplift the facial outlook of the university, this has been going at a snail's pace and with the rains now here, the institution can be easily passed for a construction site. Comrades also have on their wish list the renovations of lecture halls, some have been reduced to structures with ancient roofings. A quick good example is the lecture theatres 1, 2 and 3. Not only are the seats in a poor condition but also the blackboards windows and even the doors

    All of us are in agreement 2017 was a year that will go down in history of our country as the year to remember. It’s the year we saw many things, we had two presidential elections; two presidents one who refused to take part in the repeat elections and one who ran against himself. The ban on shisha was the highlight of the year as it was the preferred drug of choice for those slay queens who milked the boy child dry overtaking Guarana and Snapp. The ban was a blessing in disguise for the boy child, at least a good number of them could now divert a significant amount of the 800 shillings per round of this addictive drug investing it on sports betting with the hope of being the next Gordon Ogada. The debate on legalizing marijuana for health purposes was the pinnacle of online and offline discussions spearheaded by researcher Gwada Ogot. De facto boy child commander in chief Cyprian Nyakundi still maintains that the ban was a well calculated move to slowly kill the vibrant nightlif

On Sunday as the dons stayed away from lecturer halls, I decided to stay even further away from them and sunk into our well-liked joint; F2. I was hoping to dance away the night as the stakes of Kenya’s stout rugby team kept rising in the final leg of the Vancouver sevens. Being a regular at the watering hole, I had mastered the art of patience, it was increasingly common to bump into a classmate who would offer you a quarter litre of vodka. How thoughtful of such people to help you save two hundred shillings that you would have used to intoxicate the liver. I pretended to be too deeply absorbed by phone, unconsciously rocking my head to the cool Caribbean vibes gracing the airwaves that night. Seeing that no one I knew was forthcoming, I opted to get myself a bottle of whiskey and went back to my table which was largely empty. I bought whiskey that day not because I had enough money to waste but because I had been told a tale of girls and their love for men who take whiske