NIGHT RUNNER

My colleague Juen gave me what I really needed. A break from the monotony of everyday life. Waking up, matatu, staffroom, class and then home. Juen is that teacher who until then I considered too much of a sot than a serious guy. He always reeked of ale even in the morning and even students knew it. But looking at things, I may as well say that he is more realistic and sagacious than some of the teachers who are also my colleagues. 

I remember a time when we attended a meeting by the directors of our college. After deep introspection, I later realized that some of the issues being raised by some of the teachers were too petty.

Like someone being concerned by food, does this motivate employees? Obviously, like 60-70% of my colleagues never go for lunch, me included. The economic times are always harder in Kenya. The paltry figure you earn in a month is what someone makes in a bad day. Since the supply of human resource outstrips demand (I bet this is a lie), this has contributed to employers paying their employees anything as long as they are just surviving. And the repercussion is that staff turnover is a bit high given that most are looking for better jobs.  

Our director is one bulky figure whom I wish could read on the global trends that being too bulky is not only a sign of laziness but also a sign of being unhealthy. He should trim some of the excess fat to see the institution going places and probably getting to be a varsity or opening up more branches such that it ameliorates into an institution that is a preferred destination by many scholars who deem it as the one stop place of scholarship.

Talking of Juen, during our session with the directors, he raised one important issue mainly revolving around health which I found hilarious but realized it was not trivial as such owing to it being a rainy season. It was paramount because it affected both all parties- students and staff.

So after completing my evening lecturing, let me say I have become a pro teacher, or I am a professor. Before going for the class, I had had this sight headache. And you know when its Friday, you never know how things will turn out. Juen had on Thursday told me of a plot he had conjured. Yes, being a loquacious silent killer, Juen has the flair of a person who is thinking far ahead. While am sorry to say that some ‘professors’ as we call ourselves have no fall back plan in the event they get in a quagmire, Juen told me about his numerous dealings. Never mind a colleague told me he was once sacked and ended up returning to this same institution.

On this Friday, Juen waits for me as planned. He takes me to a shady drinking den where sots take sips one off and they are good to go. We arrive and find the place congested. It takes us a few minutes to make it to the counter where a lady is serving the drinks. Soon the place is vacated as most drinkers head to the club inside playing ethnic music. Since it is downtown Nairobi, you surely know the cacophonous music that rents the air. Stools are used as the way of seating.

Soon an Administration Police joins us. I thought he was interested in taking some pints. He was not. He wanted to be given money, kickbacks. He had either a G3 or an AK47, but since I am not a gun connoisseur, I cannot tell what it was. He came the first time but was denied his due then went away. The second time he came but the lady did not badge to his demands. I could see he was disappointed. The lady later told us his was a malady in the system because he was accustomed to the custom.

Juen had introduced me as a colleague and I was given some respect because he is quite popular here. You see, many people who frequent this joint are not scholars; he is among the few who have a way with not only the most dingy of places to the revered high-class joints in uptown Nairobi. He even told me he was going to take me to Serena. Let’s wait and see. This is a secret I am supposed never to reveal.

A matatu driver who was also part of those sampling the liquor, having witnessed as the AP police was harassing the wines and spirits attendant decided to give the lady his two cents.

“Hawa watu afadhali uwapatie chenye wanataka alafu utakuwa sawa. Mimi husimamishwa Kangundo napeana mia mbili, Juja Road pia unaona karao amakuwekea mkono juu unatoa tena mia mbili alafu ukifika racecourse unapatana na mwingine amekunja sura kama ngumi, uso ndimu. Inabidi saa zingine unaingia kwa mfuko. Hivyo ndio unaweza kaa kwa hii biashara.”

“Lakini huyu amezidi, leo nimempa pesa nyingi karibu thao, anaenda tu kuburudika na wasichana huko ndani. Simpi pesa tena ng'o!” The lady retorted in anger.

I am very particular about the kind of drinks I take, but since this was going to be a new experience, I did take some drink with an unknown name.  Think it was vodka, which we laced with lemons and water. Though I could see some lemon juice in the counter, I never wanted to request for it.

I sometimes I wonder if my employer will confirm me in this job. If he does well and good but if he does not, ntatembeza kiatu sababu hii pesa si ya mamangu. And what if he reads this and realizes that I sometimes become too shady because I want to know so much about Nairobi which I don’t know. At least, the college has given me an avenue and exposure. I get to see new faces everyday and my oh my, what if I am given a sacking letter, where will I start? Yet am admonishing some of my colleagues for having no respite. But I am a writer, sooner I will end up somewhere.

Again, I at least have this little experience of teaching. Imparting knowledge to people who want to be professionals and who aspire to continue with their education at higher levels. While sometimes I usually think I am less informed, it does not matter that I have this desire to be the best. When I see older people coming for my class, I usually feel threatened about how to approach them at the onset, but time has taught me that you see students as individuals and not as a crowd. That way, you can enter into their comfort zones easily and create a good rapport. At the end of the day, my students range from those who are young to some who could have sired some of those students to be their progeny.

Upon leaving the den, Juen gets a call from one of our part-time colleagues. He is in a restaurant that chameleons into a nightclub cum bistro at night not forgetting the fact that it also offers accommodation. I had my brown envelope containing my teaching paraphernalia. Since my blog has been running dry and short of worthy stories,  I decided not to head home because I wanted some new experience. A new feeling which intoxicates.

Lejo was the guy we were to meet. He was offering to buy us pints. Lejo is a guy who methinks uses enhancers because he is barrel-chested and brawny. His pecs demands attention especially when he is adorned in fitting t-shirts. His wide lats only add to his perfect V-shaped figure compounded by a slender torso. But his muscles are not genuine. They are what we call  imbo in sheng. 

Some peon once told me for muscles to be real, they have to be contoured into visible triceps and biceps. “Sio tu nyama ati umeunga.” His grip is usually tight when he gives you a handshake and he has his locker where no one ever nears because they fear he can turn into a beast. 

Even though I hate freebies, peer pressure influences me not to go home but to head to a bar. As I write this, I am still trying to “toa lock” but I have to write either way because I am alone in the house and I am not feeling like even touching food. One reason is that I am afraid of losing the nitty gritty content that I had.

On our way to where Lejo was, we pass by Juen’s office. He tells me his sole reason for teaching investments is partly because he has vested interests in investment firms. He tells me he is a part co-owner of a venture dealing with the same and shows me his office. I nod in agreement and tell him of how wise he is. As a prudent and shrewd businessman, he also operates a mogoka kiosk that gives him enough for sustenance. He tells me that Lejo has a weak spot for ladies. And that I confirm on our entry into the club where I find him with a certain mama.

The lady never looked young, but not a cougar though. While I thought I would find him with a young hot lady who is probably a ka yellow yellow, with a fine and great ass and a looker, this one was what my campus mate Mavo used to call ordinary. But Juen told me she is liquid. Reason why Lejo is hanging out with her. She looks like she is almost 35 judging by her figure, visage and all that. Like most Nairobi chics, she was doing Guarana. Other than the drink being called a pant remover, it has this connotation that you and the chic are going to ‘Guarana’ all night engaging in the devil’s dance as you imbue the sheet with your …..

As an eligible bachelor, (Imagine my students want a piece of me but they are not pushy because I told them am engaged to a hot mama, just kidding). Anyway, I am very handsome; many ladies fall for me because I am a charmer. But I am not a pant remover and neither am I a player. I respect ladies very much. Period.

Sheet, this auto correction thinks I am implying paint remover instead of pant remover. I ignore that. This is a by the way.

In this club where we once had what I can call the last supper with campus buddies before exiting, we go for the lounge, I realize I am among the youngest here and unattached. Never mind I celebrated my silver jubilee with nothing. Yes nothing. So the only way I was going to spoil myself was go for an out like this. I ensured I had some money in case things went haywire. But again, my phone was almost going off and it did not have my regular number. Every one of those in this club had a mama by his side and trust you me, this club has a shortage of hot mamacitas just like it is hard finding an oasis in Kalahari. That is going by my standards.

Juen went and brought one of his friends who was drinking on a different floor but in the same club. The guy buys us a round and engages us in a little chitchat. The waiter comes and we make our order. We resort for vodka which is inferior in the bastion of cosmopolitan Nairobi if going by the banter I have had about it.

“I only drink Whiskey. I am currently doing VAT 69. ”

This guy was bragging he does whiskey while he was not even at the famous whiskey bar, 1824. While whiskey is a pricey drink and associated with the urbane, it loses meaning when it is sipped in a joint where music is rumpus.

As a freelancer (not the professional one), anything legit or alluring that comes your way should be devoured. I am not a heavy drinker and half the Vodka the dude bought was fine. The waiter brings it with lemon and hot water in a red thermos. The guy who brought the drink had withdrew a wad of notes. Juen later tells me he is a banker. In fact, if you want to enjoy life sometimes in Nairobi without money, be a sycophant. Juen knows how to pull these strings and we even eat some chicken and chips courtesy to his court stewardship.

To syllogize the same, drinking vodka is cheap. A pal told me of how his friends were perturbed by the fact that he was buying Smirnoff Blue Label. My pal’s pals were of the opinion that he was stooping too low by even mentioning Vodka. What’s up with some middle class Nairobians? You ooze class if you do some pricey whiskey which you also have to mention with abandon.

The aura in this club looked mature judging by few people on the dance floor and most sitting calmly doing beer and their women either a soft drink or the usual black ice. This reminds me of a place we went where a lady was drinking Guinness kubwa while his man was doing Black ice. Reversed roles, right.

Lejo and Juen took to the dance floor as they let the music control them as they danced along to the native songs like Kanungo and those Kiuk music like Mwanake. Lejo’s chic also joined him in tow and they started dancing like some teenagers who think that they have to be banging their crotches together and daggering to make others jealous. But bend over is so 2010.

After about two hours, we left the club. Outside, Lejo’s chic had started something queer. He wanted to accompany Juen which got Lejo pissed off. She even stood near him and interlocked their arms together. But Juen is that guy who loves his wife and he told me he ensures he only goes to her. He has also mastered her and he knows what she wants.

I remember Juen telling me that he was going to give me like Sh. 200 for my transport. I wanted to remind him about it but after adding up some things, I was sure his drunken stupor was what had lied to him he could part with such a figure.

With the buggers gone, and feeling a little bit high, I decided to walk around town for some time in order to kill the alcohol in my system. I decided to head towards my former Alma mater where I could possibly find someone whom I could rave the night with. I thought of club Edge, the new club in town that is synonymous with guys in their twenties. But the entrance was full so I went ahead and I met this pal from my old town. Felo it was.

Felo is also a pal we were with in campus and high school. He told me he was with my buddy Joda, a chap who scored straight A’s but resorted to a less cool course in campus. They did Economics like yours truly which made them my course mate. But they completed a year after me. It was slightly over a month ever since they had completed campus. 

Felo was with his cousins and big bro who looked more developed than usual. He was a form four student when I was still a mono. Felo and Joda were still jobless. We were in this joint were beer goes for sh.150. I thought that was fair owing to the fact that most places in town the price is higher. However it is many floors up and that could be the reason. It also hosted my former alma mater, a design school that would have given me a job but I was out of its reach.

Joda probs me about where I am working. I tell him and he wants me to buy him a drink which I do. He tells me he plays for mean machine and I ask him on the whereabouts of Gabu who also plays for mean. He says Gabu used to study in St. Peters before proceeding to Kamu. Then he used to be a chop (bright in class). But in campus. Mayie Denda. He sometimes ended up worse because of what he knows best.

I leave my drinks in the custody of these guys because our friendship dates to many years. I leave the joint and head to Sabina Joy. You see, this place is the only joint in Nairobi where women sell their wares with no inhibition. They were near the gents and I had initially thought that the place they were gathered in was the ladies. Wrong. Since I am an explorer, I wanted to find out the price a hooker charges. I had no money enough on me to even think of procuring their services. But I never solicit for sex in such places.

One of the ladies of the night tells me she charges Sh.500 for a shot and the room goes for 300. We haggle over the price until it comes to something like Sh.300. But I was not even interested. So if you have sh.600, you get a lady and a room. But it depends on how you approach them. To piss her off since I wanted to leave, I ask her if she can accept it without rubber for ten times what I am offering. She pushes me away. And I ask another lady who also never accepts the offer of not using prophylactic.

I buy a Red bull and look around the club with many ladies with so short clothes that barely cover their booties. This does not make my heart beat as I had wanted and I get out and head back to where I was partying with my friends.

On reaching the gate, it was past one. The sentry denies me entry insisting I had not informed him while I was leaving that I would return. To kill the imminent, I oil his palms with a sh.50 note and he lets me in. Inside the club, I find Felo dancing with the chic I had initially found canoodling with his elder brother. Felo is tall and the lady has to stand on something to be able to bend over for her ass to get access to his manly belongings. They were dancing those wild moves that I used to love while a first year student. At present, I am not so much into them.

The lady had even feigned that she was high and almost tripped on me when I had placed my envelope on the seat when I had arrived in the club the first time. Maybe she thought I would grab her and buy her drinks, but I was not into her. Even if I was, kupita na manzi ya beshte yako is a no for me.

I continued drinking for a while sleeping intermittently in the process. Felo tells me he has used his flight money back to LD on drinks. He tells me he had been drinking since 2 in the afternoon and it is two in the evening. His gait tells it all. He cannot stand erect without staggering for more than one minute.

Since they had exhausted all the cash, and because I was sleepy, we get out of the club. Revelers were now few. The girls who were dancing with Felo had also gone.

Outside, we get this vendor who sells boiled eggs and smokies. He tells us he goes by the name Amos.  Some dudes were also buying but we take over the place. At first, Amos thought we would not pay. Since we were six, we would do what most Nairobians in a rende do when they find such a person. Eat everything and leave him with nothing.

We ate all the smokies, and eggs. I did five eggs and three smokies which I have never in my life. Hope I will not have a reaction to the eggs because there was a time I had a big boil and presumed it was as a result of eggs.

“Majamaa asanteni kwa kunijenga.” Amos told us.

He even offered to accompany us to the bus stage because we had given him a clean bill of health. It’s like we consumed goods worth more than sh.1000 because he was very happy. He told us he however had to share the money with kanjo and clean the place after working. Which he started doing because he had a hard broom with a polythene bag.

I felt like starting my own business looking at the moneys he had made. But that is a story for another day. While eating, I realized one of the cousins of Felo was a classmate in primary school. Davies was his name. I am not that guy who loves starting stories about stuff of ago when high.

The last time I met Davies was more than 15 years or so and he could not recognize me. He was bigger than me now but still had not done away with his clownish mien. Just realized that those guys I was bigger than in primary school are now bigger than me in size. I never bothered to introduce myself to Davies but I had wanted to ask him about his younger twin sister Doreen. Just to tell him I know him but did let sleeping dogs lie.

As we left Amos, we decided to use an uninhabited lane as a urinal because it was the only point where we could relieve ourselves. A place where in broad daylight, you can never think of doing such a thing. Drinking has this effect whereby you feel like peeing frequently.  A sentry came and found us but could do nothing because it was the dead of the night.  

I decided to head to the Ghetto because it was easy to gain entry as it is well lit and a minutes walk from the main road as opposed to the place I normally stay because it has so many bureaucracies and very far from the main road. I was not going to walk more than five minutes and again, cabs at that time are never in place.

Next to the bus stop, I see this former classmate of mine who was a former student absorbed by Equity bank having performed well in high school arguing with a certain dude. Did I also mention that Joda was also a recipient of the same Equity scholarship and had job which he told me he left. 

I don’t exactly remember the epithet of this chic but judging by the way she was howling her appendages and spitting some invectives, I could tell she was almost ending up in a fight. She was with two dudes. One was in a cheap white blazer and the in an equally cheap black blazer. Those that are rugged at the edge. The guy in white was restraining the one in black from beating her as she was going berserk. In Nairobi, things happen. I tell you. 

What I realized was that even though the chic wanted to go away, she still went back to the dude, maybe she was cashless then. How could she go back to someone who was about to slap her as he had shook he vigorously before being pulled away. I wished my phone was on so that I could take a video of her then later share it on whatsapp with my campus buddies. 

In campus, we were not that close and methinks we never ever talked. Maybe greetings because she once appeared to have been dating one of my high school friends who was also an Equity scholar when I once saw them clandestinely walking together at night.

I felt like going and telling her she deserved better but my legs could not. I was tired and just wanted to get in a mat and head to the digs. In the mat I remember sleeping the whole journey. I woke up only when the conductor asked for my fare. Then again went into deep slumber.

But I was lucky to wake up in time to alight at the stage where I was to alight. All along I had clutched tightly on my envelope. Am still tired as a result of the walking I did in town. At the digs, I had to jump over the fence because the gate was locked. I almost slept outside but found one door open as the commotion of jumping through the gate had woken up some people in the house.

I remember taxi drivers whistling at me to take a cab home. Maybe it was because of the envelope I was carrying. That way I could have also used his phone to call home.

PS: So while we may think we are doing things without others seeing us, there could be that someone seeing you. You never just know who it is.

SITUONANE.

[Photo Source: Pixabay]

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FUCK THIS SHIT OF BEING CALLED A BEAST

"So what animal do you think you are?"

This is a question I was asked during my first job interview this year. Obviously, I hate being told to liken myself to a beast.

It is usually very irritating because animals cannot reason, are not rational and animals just are that- animals.

As I write this piece, I am feeling very zetetic. Yet I am still not sure whether that which I am after will become a reality. My gamut is quite emotionally ravaged.

So I heard this story, it is about the in-law of one of my sister's chums.

Lets call the bugger Jim. Jim is an Alcohol inspired name according to Google. So Jim once went to the court during the trial of one of his friends. Since Jim was a perpetual sot, he went to the courtroom drunk.

In the midst, he fell asleep in court. Upon waking up he thought he was in one of the many drinking dens he frequents and he burst out loudly;

"Wewe hapo juu pewa mbili na we askari pia pewa kadhaa."

Obviously, you know what happened to him. He got some respite when he was bailed out by his bigger brother.

Anyway, methinks this is the kind of guy who grew up and interacted so much with animals and this could have affected the way he relates with people.

Many African ladies, Ok, that would be committing a fallacy if I generalized that by saying many yet only a negligible count usually call their progeny names of animals that are not so palatable.

I remember one of our primary school teachers imitating how dogs behave, yet some women will call their children, "Umbwa hii."

Don't such women know that such names have consequences on the character of their children. The worst is being called a sheep. "Angalia hii kondoo."

Such names are in no doubt affect the thoughts of a child. It is usually a time when most children are learning about similes and when you call him sheep, he will start thinking he is a fool and may be introverted and withdrawn.

So many grow up crestfallen, devastated and cynical. All because someone called him a dog,or a cow and many other animals whose names I cannot remember. Yet we feign ignorance that we are no hurting when one calls us a name we instinctively never like.

However,there are scenarios where you call your buddies names of animals behind their back like, "Hikyo kiumbwa" or "Kale ka fisi." When the person you are conversing with hears the name call, you laugh like it is a normalcy. We humans are indeed queer. Our actions need to be audited but much more, our words need to be taken to the ombudsman or that commission headed Kaparo, Yes, NCIC, to clarify whether they fall under what is libelous.

But we are Kenyans. I remember as an eight year old, I went and messes with the hornet's nest by abusing or name calling some dudes we used to play with. When their mother heard, she was furious, she came out and gave me a dog's beating using a broom and that was the end of our friendship.

I went back home sobbing like a kicked dog hoping my mum would intervene. Even though she was pained, she told me I had been taught a lesson never to name call and think of myself as very strong.

Every other time I listen to ethnic music and hear the name calling, I usually feel ambivalent. I just donno why, but since it is the message that majority of people from my roots can aptly relate to, then I must admit, the backseat will serve me just right.

SITUONANE.

[Photo Source: Google Images]

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TEACHING AND ITS DYNAMISM

Who ever thinks of being a teacher? Staff-room, classes, whiteboards and students. Teaching is fun. You need to be very informed and relevant like a a budding writer like me. But teaching can be very challenging. Standing in front of a classroom is not easy. Not when all students are looking at you and they have expectations that you will deliver and not mislead. 
 

After looking for a job left right and centre, I landed in a teaching institution. Wow, before that, I had been interviewed for a job in an office setting. Well, if I were to choose, I would stick to teaching for now. It is an experience that I have to be very happy about. Of course my employer offered me the job and I thought, well, this is a good starting point.

I am sitting in the staff-room, writing these chronicles. Just minutes ago, the Nairobi skylines were rented by the cacophonous sounds of low flying military aircraft that caused some hullabaloo among  staff mates. It sounded as if the jet was just hovering directly overhead having singled-out an Alshabab mercenary ready to sed the Recce squad to deal with the terror outfit.

'That is UK trying to showcase his military preparedness in wait of Obama.' One of the vocal teachers commented.

Since I have no lecture to attend, I am reminiscing about the first impression of this school.

It is relatively big by any standards, it is located in a serene atmosphere at the periphery of the city centre and the students are generally amiable.

If I would describe teaching, I would say it is one of the most relaxing jobs. Of course there is pressure to meet the target, students passing exams and what else, yes imparting knowledge among other important aspects that has to do with education.


Many of us find it excruciatingly painful to speak publicly, this is very unarguably true. Take note that this is not a fallacious argument We feel nauseous. We can barely breathe. Our bodies tremble. We lose track of time, find it difficult to concentrate, and babble.

While reading Mwalimu Andrew’s Staffroom Diaries, I have been reading it ever since its inception but neither did I ever had the idea I would ever work or end up spending a huge chunk of time in the staffroom.

I also wrote about teachers last year. And maybe, I had foretold about me being a teacher.

As opposed to Mwalimu Andrew who teaches in a Primary School, I teach in a tertiary institution where the kind of students you deal with are sometimes more informed than you are.

I should start a diary of the ups and downs of a Nairobi lecturer. I sometimes wish I would have used my talent in being an actor to the fullest. However, when I think of the grueling procedure involved in terms of auditioning, rejection, trial and error; I usually am like, ‘Ok, I am not that aggressive kind of guy or person. I love things on a silver platter. Who doesn’t love a life of sitting and waiting for things to happen? It’s just normal that I am also part of wider majority of people who love an easy life.’

So my employer inquired if I was interested in a job as a lecturer and I responded on the affirmative. You see, there is no denial that most youth are looking for better jobs. If someone would have asked me which kind of job I am looking for, I would also say the same. Am looking for a better well-paying job.  But sometimes my main motivation is usually not even the pay. Sometimes it is the acceptance and the satisfaction you get from what you do. Again, getting an opportunity to be a teacher is not as easy. And it being teaching,majority of teachers are still looking for greener pastures.

With the rate at which media houses are hell bent on exposing institutions that offer certificates of doom, I take this opportunity to clarify that the institution I am currently lecturing in does not offer certificates of doom. Most of my workmates are either pursuing their masters’ degrees or are planning of pursuing the same. Majority are former campus graduates who did their undergraduate studies not more than ten years ago.

Of course there are those who are in their prime ages as one lady lecturer who said her first child is a year older than me. By any standards, I am among the youngest here.

However, I initially told myself that the first job I came across, I would never mind as long as it gave me an opportunity to interact, get to the next level and it also giving me a challenge in terms of growth and ameliorating myself. As a teacher, I realized I need to be very informed. Read wider in order not to mislead and be very dynamic and flexible.

After being introducted to my students by their former tutors, I did take over. I felt like I was in another dais with a scripted document that I was to present. I could see expectant faces of students  students and albeit they were not cheeky, they were cynical. They are my age mates. I had hardly introduced myself when they started asking questions.

Obviously I had told them my name, but most of the ladies were like: Tell us about status, engaged or single. They wanted to know where I had gone to school and when I told them, I could see one student telling another by finishing off the title of the course I had done.

At that point, I wished I was as good in narration like Joinno Ten (link). Or maybe those lecturers in my former campus who bragged about their covets which they made us believe were real.

If one of my students ever gets to know that I write, I will be belaboured to him or her because of my secernate nature yet I am still a nom de guerre. I still want to keep my profile low. I have not yet got the guts of going mainstream.

Teaching is a very fantastic job, especially when you are doing it with a passion and you love what you are teaching about. Again, if you never love reading and doing some bit of research during free time, you may end up not delivering content as expected. Students may also reject you, but you become good with time.

In fact, though this is a tertiary institution, we teach them the same stuff I read while in campus. I was amazed that they sometimes cover the units better than we were doing while in campus. Delivery is paramount. However, teaching sometimes does not mean that you know, but as long as you can read, understand, give an example and prove to students that you are good, you are good to go. I am sure even teachers themselves usually find some students smarter than them but since they cannot acknowledge for fear of belittling themselves, they never will let such a student know. If you are the type who is afraid to answer questions, fret among students and develops cold feet in front of people, then teaching might prove a challenge in the short run.

When I grow up, I want to be a lecturer. Now that it seems like in Kenya you require connections to make it in the mainstream job market (you know those jobs, you wonder how that guy doing it got it earning 10 or fifty times your pay but was an academic dwarf), I will be contented with reading and making hay while the sun shines.

I have not yet started using my potential skills, like doing a TEDx, trying to convince students that with education something will happen or something will not. But what is amazing is the fact that if you are good with what you are doing, you can be very good. With teaching, I get to be respected by my students (I especially like the part where you have authority over them, they calling you Sir or teacher and you smile  internally and there is nothing they can do about it even if they are your age mates.)

Now I understand why teachers sometimes did ask questions and students gave blank stares. Like I rarely participated in question and answer sessions in campus, but while in primary or secondary, I tried or lets say I was more vocal. However, in school, there is usually a wrong answer and a right one. It goes without doubt that answering questions among your fellow students’ boosts your confidence and also makes you more knowledgeable as you may also try as much to be conversant most of the time.

Another thing is that, students rarely take time to read when it is not time for exams. When I walk along the alleys and see students reading (is it reading or copying notes? I am not sure), I usually get the impression that we are indeed not a sleeping nation. While studies without thinking of another means when things don’t go as planned is not beneficial, there is something that is for sure, you never get sick while gaining knowledge.

SITUONANE.

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