How I was saved from being a teenage campus dad!

As a freshman, I whiled away most of my hard earned campus time perched in my lust scented room, revising my notes on seduction in the company of a curvaceous BCOM chick from Taita, her toothy smile cooling my broke person.

I was midway on my third beer when a text message sent my phone into jerking irritating vibrations. My pal Charlo was lazily slumped in a seat beside me, unsuccessfully fighting intoxication while nodding to the booming beats of Salome Wangu. ‘Brathee, kwani ulipata girlfriend?’

I snobbed. Reached for the offensive gadget and tapped the message icon. It wasn’t the usual, ‘night bae’ or ‘please buy me bundles I’ll refund’ kind of text from my lady friends. This one was precise. ‘I have done the tests. I’m three weeks pregnant and keeping it.’ A rungu of confusion, fear and anxiety hit me.
For a moment, I suffered from mild Ebola symptoms: fever and shortness of breath. I sat up and wondered whose number, among the lady friends I shared a past with it was. This text was unlike any on the same topic I’d received before. It didn’t threaten. Didn’t plead. It just stared at you the way used utensils do when piled in a sink: confident, truthful, dirty and depressing. A selfish wind was blowing my side. A dad at nineteen? When I hadn’t the sense to flush the toilet after peeing? Oh no!

I took two swigs of my beer and switched off my phone. I had to think. Mwanaume ni strategy. Ama namnagani? I was still in thought when a beep from Charlo’s phone pulled me to reality. Slowly, I craned my neck sneaking a peek at its screen. The fellow was softly snoring, a line of saliva streaming down his mouth. I tapped the read icon: ‘I’ve done the tests. I’m twelve weeks pregnant and keeping it.’ Sender; Martha.

Eureka! I switched on my phone intent on texting her hell fire. Two new texts softened me. The last red: ‘Wrong text. Endelea na ulevi or whatever you do these days’.
Moral of the story: when your girlfriend dumps you for your friend or another dude, rejoice. Down a beer. It’s the start of something good. And guys, put on a condom please.