Campus chronicles: Adulting 101

Nothing can best describe loyalty than the waft of the hideous vyomboz you’ve used. Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love they give you! No matter where you go, or how long you stay away from them, they still wait for you. They are the perfect description of the Reacher in a toxic relationship but with them, they never complain.

I don’t know if it is the choking smell of the three-days unwashed loyal roommates, the ending long day of the satisfying yet pressurizing thing I call work, or the fact that I do not have a single dime in my over-drafted fuliza. All I know is that I am angry and hungry.

Hunger hits differently when you are broke. You feel the tenacity of its jaws in your intestines as you hopelessly try to seek how to relieve yourself from its grasp. Truth is I did eat during the lunch hour break. In fact, at Mukorino’s food hub, I surpassed my normal record-breaking eight mandazis to ten (Of course this was with a thick layer of oily bean soup on top).

Whilst growing up I imagined life to be simpler. Oh. How naïve I was! By the time I clocked 20, I imagined having two well-established start-ups, one in media, the latter in microfinance, a beautiful and lovely girlfriend to serve as the queen and overseer of my two empires, and a small two front-wheeler to serve me, my enterprises, my queen and of course, kutesa. But life did that thing.

I am now 23, still, an intern at a small organization, owning one crippled and unregistered NGO, I love walking (“It calms my mind” is what I’d say but si we are being honest), I laugh when I hear romantic words or gestures, have been single for as long as I can remember, juggling between not so being broke and the obvious and how I love the consoling Ipo Siku phrase (By the way I am not complaining, it has its perks.)

In such a moment I am met with three choices (but of course they all involve money); call Momma and complain my heart out, call her and tell her I am coming home or the last and my all-time favorite, call her, concoct a lucid lie of my expensive final year school project that needs funding urgently. I obviously pick up my phone and make that call.