Life is like google circles. That’s a pretty deep, time conscious piece of philosophy I just came up with. You expose different kinds of information to the different groups of people that you fraternize with; for example you wouldn’t upload a post about the appearance of boils in your armpit where your heartless friends would be likely to find it. Information on its size and color would only be shared with a circle full of aunties who would flood the internet with sympathetic g-cooing and much g-love.
Circles put me in mind of phases and relationships. You can grow too large for a circle both intellectually and physically and have to leave it. You can start hating all the people in one circle and go find another one in which you’ll be less likely to turn homicidal. A circle can also outlive its usefulness of you and spit you out like a watermelon seed.
Makerere has officially had its fill of us 08’ babies (the ones who were sensible enough to pick three year courses) and from tomorrow to the 20th, it’s going to be spitting us and spitting hard. We’re going to be shoved into young adulthood dressed in funny looking gowns and a sash that is the most unfortunate shade of baby blue in existence.
I’m sad that I never got to live out my fantasy of participating in a strike dressed in a tiny tulip skirt made out of that red cloak that you’re supposed to get at the beginning of your campus career.
That skirt teamed with a cute vest and good running shoes is perfect gear for violently waving a branch around and yelling things like PUT SOME TP IN THE HALL TOILETS or WHY DON’T YOU USE ONIONS IN OUR MEALS or WHENEVER YOU GIVE A STUDENT 49%, THEY CURSE YOU TO THE FOURTH GENERATION into a megaphone.
What happens when you’re not a campus chick anymore? Do you cease to qualify for free drinks? Because the existence of campus girls is one of the reasons that so much alcohol is consumed in the country. They gulp the stuff down like a desert would consume a bottle of baby oil and people are all too willing to rain the alcohol on them. For free. So after graduation, when we walk into bars, will ‘NOT 22 and naïve’ be stamped on our foreheads?
Perhaps maturity shall possess us the minute we stumble out of that square in our too high shoes and the need to constantly be on facebook will, like our one time obsession with Pringles and gummy bears, fade away.
What else does young adulthood mean? A job, yes? Life is going to arrange itself into neat little packets of 9-5 boringness. Bosses are going to have floods of enthusiastic, if slightly inept young people pouring into their offices, begging for the opportunity to be used and even abused. If they’re nice bosses, they look forward to shaping yet another batch of youngsters into corporate robots. If they’re stupid evil bastards, they’re rubbing their hands in glee, salivating, waiting to gorge themselves on 22year old souls.
If you have a brain on your shoulders and resources, you’re tearing a niche for yourself in the Ugandan economy by starting your own business or company. And if you were so paranoid about becoming a poor, unemployed GeNext statistic after campus that you found yourself a job(s) which didn’t involve hawking your body at some point during the last three years, I salute you.
Have a nice life.