At the University of Eldoret, a campus dude is a loser

 I’m crafting this dispatch from the land of cheget and champions, slowly killing time with four University of Eldoret female comrades, whose idea of who a campus man is traumatising. To them, rules don’t apply because they reside in a rented apartment outside school.

She: Her name is Ciru. Folks call her She. They say She, the nickname, sounds intimate. She is pretty. Fairly tall and Ariff is the word she uses instead of friend. So you know, She listens to Bob Marley. “The campus guy is an immature boy not worth my time. Foolish guy. A cheat and unfaithful guy whom I can’t date.”

Yvonne: Sweet is the adjective I’ll use. She’s plump. With deep, round eyes that pull in everything. I believe she’s smart. One of those true ladies whose skills in the kitchen are rare in campus ladies.

Me: Who is a campus dude?

Yvonne: (those big round eyes blink repeatedly, she chuckles). Immature. Broke. Loving. Everything sweet.

Would Yvonne date you, bro? Naaah!

Irene: Folks call her Doll. She’s got great boobs. Wait. Do you know there’s a difference between boobs and breasts? I also didn’t know. We’ve just been educated. Irene or Doll is stern. Her gaze resembles a teacher’s cane. But she dances to ‘break your back’. “When I see a campus dude, I see an immature but good-in-bed guy’.

Sandi: Dholuo diva from Kapsabet. Long, slender lady who effortlessly exudes charm. She’s a Mercedes Benz E350. Exquisite. I avoid her gaze (chuckles). “Immature. Bhang-smoking. Cigarette addict, broke guy and (lots of stress) a cheat,” that’s a campus guy to her. Tongue-in-cheek, I hear a male comrade isn’t scared of the lecturers’ strike, the teachers’ strike, the doctors’ strike, blackouts, poor Wi-Fi connection or water shortage. Only dry spell scares the comrade. May the strike end. The shortage of light skins in my campus is depressing.