IT’S ONLY MONDAY!

Monday 8th November, 2010

Kenneth Ng’etich’s week is already ruined right from the first lesson

Oh no! It’s a quarter to eight on Monday morning. Not again. I lazily get out of bed and grab my bar of washing soap (the bathing soap has already run out), face towel and towel. I half run, half walk as I trudge towards the bathroom. Damn! There is a long queue of people waiting to get into my favorite bathroom. It looks like I will have to settle for the less glamorous one that is filled with dirty, stagnant soapy water today. Yagh! The thought of filthy water covering my feet is very much unwelcome.
Normally, I’d take about three minutes in the bathroom debating on whether I should take the shower or not. The thought of ice cold water hitting my body is never welcome. Not on this morning. The fact that I am running late, with the filthy water now reaching my ankles, conspire to get me out of the bathroom in three minutes. This is a personal best record that makes me smile as I make my way back to my room. Less than seven minutes later, I am already on my way to class, albeit on an empty stomach.
Monday! I hate this day. This is the day that I have to attend the early morning lecture. It’s not that this lecture is my favourite . Hell no! It is just because the course instructor happens to be the dean of my faculty. Anyone who has met this lady will tell you that she is a ‘no- nonsense’ person. She somehow reminds me of my high school principal. I have not attended her lectures lately. This simply implies that I have already the 20% rule on class attendance.
I find myself in class before the lecturer and hurriedly get to borrow notes from my colleagues to acquaint myself with the course lest am busted with a question. As I peruse through, am interrupted by sounds of high heels hitting hard on the verandah. Looking up subconsciously, I find her right at the door knob smacked. She holds a laptop computer on her left hand and on the right, the ever present scholarly dictionary that has earned her a nickname ‘the Lexico’. She calls the book, ‘the world of lexicons’.
Her outfit commands authority but the formality with which she handles her duties is something I have never adored. When she is not amused, one can tell from the disbelief on her face. Today, the class is full to capacity while her normal class is usually two thirds of today’s attendance. After a moment of awkward silence, she places the laptop on the table and sends the class representative to her office to pick the class registers. The students sensing danger begin to whisper to one another, the whispers grow to mummers and this provokes her anger.
‘’Who has never attended my class?” She asks sounding offended. No response. She asks again, with a bit of precision this time. “How many are here for the first time?” The class is dead silent. One can even hear a pin drop. It is then that it strikes me that being a finalist, I cannot graduate with the rest of my class without that course. With nothing constructive in mind to say, I find myself raising my hand in protest.
“Excuse me madam?” I mutter
“Yes please.”
“I can explain my absenteeism.”
“What’s your name?”
“Kenneth.”
“How many times have you attended my lectures?”
“82 percent of the time.”
Our conversation is interrupted by the class representative who walks in with the registers. She scrutinizes the registers, then summons a third of the class who don’t appear in the registers to her office, I included.
Seated at the bench outside her office, so many things cross my mind. The idea of giving a non-existent reason for my absenteeism makes me nervous especially when I think of her stern nature. She never buys cheap excuses. Entering the office my mind is blank and the only thought on my mind is that of my mum. So I found myself explaining that my mum was ill and needed my attention since there was no one around to help and so I was out of school for almost a month.
“Kenneth, you are in trouble. You can be sure that you don’t qualify for the final exam and that means you will have to retake the course next year. Better still, you will have to defer your studies to next academic year”. She declares with a sense of finality.
One day down, four to go. What a week its turning out to be, and its only MONDAY!!!