Campus rover: Internship chronicles...

Don’t call me a snoop or a busybody, but cannot help but eavesdrop on the conversation my roomie, Mogaka, is having with his two friends, Ken and Joe, who have paid him a courtesy call.

For the last 10-or-so minutes, they’ve put their heads together discussing their industrial attachment to-do plans and where they envision to go come May, which is quickly nearing.

Amongst them, not one has had hand-on-experience or experienced work experience before, but their optimism and courage levels are out of this world. Joe, who’s taking a degree in project planning and management like the rest, is driving the conversation. All long, he has been talking boastingly about his posh and loaded uncle who works in Nairobi and has a wide network of project managers locally and abroad. His uncle will definitely get him attachment, he says.

Without shame, he is beseeching Ken, and Mogaka, my roomie, to consider living in the same apartment as him for the three months they will be on attachment. God knows where since they aren’t even certain of where they will be attached to or go to attacho as they put it. They look forward to partying hard and hooking up with random shawties like they do while in school since it’s already ingrained in them.

Joe, the top dog, is a party crasher who’s well-known around the campus joints. Despite being a booze-lover, he is at times aware of the current issues affecting us and takes his studies seriously. He hardly puts his notebook down and constantly loves scribbling down his random, yet, hush-hush thoughts. I tend to think his influence has been birthed by the fact that he’s an avid follower of Andrew Kibe, who’s well-known for throwing blatant shades at men who simp and talking about controversial issues happening in the country.

Fast-forward, to begin with, he plans to shave his long, brown locs; he’s had them since our first year in campus, plus buy more official CK suits for the attacho and household items.

All this time, Ken and Mogaka are lazily nodding their mango-shaped heads to whatever Joe says. They dread disappointing, Joe, who is unpredictable at times and who loathes a boring circle of friends and can dump them anytime: which simply means that their calculated plans will be unsuccessful in the coming months which they look forward to.

Mogaka, my roomie has been saving some money for this pivotal part of his education called attacho. A single day hardly passes without him mentioning his attacho dreams and wishes. It has already become a mantra for him. As a matter of fact, he received his HELB loan recently and his closet is already full. From Gucci to Burberry to Balenciaga fakes, name them. He is impatiently waiting for the three-months industrial attachment so that he can don the ex-UK suits he bought and brag around his workstation while enjoying office tea that is served freely to attachés for the exceedingly work they do.

Meanwhile, his anxiety levels had gone a notch higher during the past few weeks of bidding goodbye to the shortest January in history. Literally. As we approached Valentine’s Day, the so-called month of love, his blood pressure went up because he had to treat his girlfriend like a queen bee and fulfil the many promises he had made every time they are enjoying their ‘conjugal rights’.

Unfortunately, being his roomie, I have been the victim here since I’ve had to endure numberless exiles during their many moments. I’m really preparing for a day I’ll unashamedly whisper to him, ‘hii imeenda’, to make a proclamation about the untimely death of their relationship after he comes back from his attachment.

The writer is a Communication and Journalism Student, Rongo University