Campus girls, give lowly comrades a chance, you never know

I came into first year of college, like everybody else, naive and with absolutely nothing to offer the world, except my pen and my dreams.

For most of that year, and the next, I was completely broke. My pockets were totally empty. Sure, my parents - especially my dad (God bless his soul) would send me some money for upkeep every now and then, but most of it barely got me through a week. And so I was always... I don’t want to say ‘poor’ but you get the gist.

As a broke first year, girls reject you. Campus girls size you up from head to toe and measure the ‘fatness’ of your wallet and turn you away like a stray dog begging for leftover bones. I had one such girl I really liked in my campus. She was in my class too.

She usually showed up in short revealing outfits and had heavenly perfume. Let’s just say she was a ‘slay queen’ of that era because by all standards, she fit the bill; going to raves every day and clutching onto expensive bags, phones, name it. She was the complete opposite of who I was back then. But I liked her a lot; I guess because as they say, opposites attract.

But I realized I was wasting my time with her when she, one day, copied my texts to her and pasted them on the class WhatsApp group and wrote “Ian leave me alone.” So I stopped chasing her and focused on building me.

I fell back to the one thing I had loved since my high school days; writing. And I kept writing until it opened doors for me and, eventually, I landed this column here. Which means I started getting some little money and dressing better and eating better and going out occasionally. Comrades call it "ballin'".

These days I walk through the campus pavements and comrades who know my face mumble nice things about me. In class, some shake my hand and say: “Jambo Campus Rover? Uko salama? Kabisa?” Anyway, I am getting carried away.

That girl is still in my class. She invited me out for lunch the other day. We had drinks afterwards and, two or three glasses of wine later, she started confessing how she likes me now and wants me to be all hers because “nobody will ever love you like I do”.

She’s still as beautiful as ever. But all those memories from when I wanted her came flowing back and I remembered that humiliation.

I excused myself to go to the gents and never went back. She called later telling me I was a bad person. I hang up. She called again, asking if I could at least settle the bill. I told her she was the one that invited me for lunch.

Moral of the story? That boy you’re looking down on today because he wears torn jeans will be something not so long from now. So if you walk away from him now, don’t ever think you can walk back when he rises.