THE GARDEN OF MTWAPA: WHERE STUDENTS ON TRIP EAT FRUITS.

Before I proceed allow me to distance my conscience from a contradictory understanding of this article. It is not in my diary to spread propaganda or discuss promiscuity. Not even a minute. It will be a failure to me and a letdown to followers to serve them materials that tend to distort understanding and promote noise which the world is closed in. But I understand that for crops to flourish, a farmer should spot and uproot weeds. The intention here is to enclose a deviation and with a desirable magnitude revile it so that the delinquent sons and daughters of soil may lever to live dignified lives and the naive spared from the mayhem that awaits them. This is the story.

We arrived in Mtwapa an hour to midnight for accommodation from Nairobi, Kenyatta University. We would then wake up for a field study in South Coast the following day. In all the nights that we spent the accommodating facilities became freer towards the days of parting. It was but a week and such is a long period to be away. Fewer students reportedly slept in their allocated rooms compared to the previous day. The reason? There were better places to sleep in.

Many institutions prefer to reside in Mtwapa during their vacations or field trips to the coast. Mtwapa is loved due to a wide range of reasons like a 24-hour economy, low-priced and good rooms for a middle class person. The town is near the pirates’ beach, Bamburi industry and on the way to Malindi, places that are pleasant to visit before going out of Mombasa. Swahili people say ‘hakuna zuri lisilo na doa’. And so Mtwapa also offers the flesh what it certainly desires. Students worship this.

The sighing and whistling when the bus cuts into Mtwapa past open air clubs in the night whose toy women are as beautifully exposed as real damsels warms up the blood of innocent Nairobians and other long travelling students like folks of MMUST. The ones who had previously been in the place desire for a stop and disappear just to be seen in the morning for the day’s lessons. No one has influence to question them for that. Maybe a redundant lecturer.

Primary timers do not go out on the first night. They still held strong to their innocence. They would first want to seem stylish and unpolluted. A behind schedule arrival will see them yearning for some sleep to quench the agony of the long journey where buses cannot rush past eighty kilometers per hour. The warmth and new taste of the air will make them first uneasy in the new environment. But their love and longing for this environment will keep their horns crawling out of skulls to face it arrive in the sun.

There is no colourful and scarcely looked for moment like the chance of a nearing trip down to coast. For some life-size time, the travelers slot in fantasy talks. This eats up most of their time and for first goers this is the time to be illusioned by the aura of coastal stories and imaginations of a vast unending mass of water. In high school I commit to memory cursing the deputy principle for getting me out of the coast bound bus in the last minute. I had as always booked a seat in the music team to be their journalist and report all to the rest of the school during a come-back. The moment did not bear forth and the poor son could not be prevented from crying. I survived the distress though William laughed at me in the face.

Our journey began at noon and as usual the start is epitomed by a late arrival of the buses and the drivers. Allowance is quickly distributed to prevent the lecturers from silly questions of students who then get the guts to ask. In classes they are forever dump. Or dizzy with open eyes. Bags are placed in the internal carrier. More bags are squeezed below the seats. The boots are dirty and have traces of charcoal bought in one of the trips. Maybe a lecture’s doing.

When I was filling the medical form in one of the dispensaries in Huruma happy that I was joining an international acclaimed university the doctor read my frame of mind and decided to offer free advice. It must have been his social responsibility to do so. ‘Kenyatta University is not a good campus to be in.’ He was referring to the already spread news that it was leading in HIV/AIDS prevalence learning institution in the republic. He added to the already many warnings I had in my mind. I promised him to be cautious. It was a promise and breaking it would be as effortless as making it.

In the bus, couples distance themselves from the rest of single ladies and immature boys. Can we call them couples of the trip? Those who could travel by air, paid by their clandestine in advance were already at the coast waiting for the rest. Parents have been conned to believe that they are funding the trip and the absence of a day-scholar is not disturbing. The student who was on holiday and living around the campus gets a free trip and allowance. The lecturer cannot master everyone. Freedom and money go hand in hand. For a week or so, they are in surplus and this motivates even more. New bonds are created from the positioning and sittings.

The noise crew is sitting at the back. One takes out a cigar, lights it and puffs. When it spreads to the middle part, some complain. Not even a student can correct a mate. The lecturer warns the smoker and walks towards them. He realizes that their shirts are unbuttoned. Cheap liquor is smelled. He has experiences such cases before. But what about this when the bus is not even past Emali? He decides not to do anything stupid though convinced that something should be done. He has enough allowance to keep quiet, swallow sour saliva and in brief think about the blurry future of the young chaps. Windows are opened to let the smoke out. A born again folk curse from inside.

Casorina, Funfun, Lambada and Lollipop are the trees in the garden of Mtwapa. They offer anything man can buy. Students are too poor to afford a few drinks here. Some can afford because parents are largely extravagant in giving out money so that they do not engage in Al-Shabaab kind of moves in search for capital. Maybe the students have unceasing needs to be attended to. The guardian may not be aware the amount of rent being paid and how much it is to photocopy a handout.  These are not the only clubs in this zone but at least they are near and known for their fame in what the purists could call hell on earth. Sons and daughters of stronger rationalism stands walk in.

What happens in there is more equal to what transpires on the double-decker beds either in Nyayo Hostels or Mboya in UoN. The ones who could not exchange rooms in the hotels for classmate to classmate free enjoyment cannot be seen around. The two male lecturers are also humans and in the long travelling hours they failed not to identify their pray. The female lecturer will seem to have controlled herself in the best conduct possible. The problem is there is no student-man willing to keep her in coastal mood of whispers and fairy touches. Maybe she is aged. In all of the remaining hours and days the story is about what time the day’s activities will break to give them instant for another moment of pleasure.

The young queens are allowed to extend time in the swimming pool by just a procure of one bottle or so. Though it is running late in the midnight drunkards are not perplexed but keep enjoying the free cinema ahead of them. The young university-tag ladies are a good sight to see. They may be thinking they are as green as the bikinis on. When one decides to pay for more discovery and real cinema, he knows best.

Sex is as cheap like the vendors themselves. The amount is even said in terms of coins. The month is in its middle stage and Mtwapa is too hard for its inhabitants. More creative ways are sought. Students who operate in groups for reasoning, laughing, messing and feeling good together have an option. One is proposing to serve them all as they wish in a moment. They take this in with open minds. There is no time for thoughts. There is no more money to secure a one-stand move room. Any bending corner is adequate. No, the time of day works for them. Anywhere there is darkness. The one who will start by the mouth, the one behind, the other in front and the rest wherever. When they are tipsy, they say, they care less.

The morning of departure comes by shock and was it otherwise they would pay their way back to school for one more day in the area. Reason dawns that it would be useless to stay around without a belonging part. These are fellow students whom they now request to be told when the bus is prepared to leave. They will later be picked on the road, near the clubs to be seen as heroes. Yes they had all bend over moments and time flowed so quickly. They are hungry for sleep. It is their wish that the day went a little bit some hours less and enjoy even better. This is a one-in-time chance and should be exploited as best as it should.

In the innocence of sleep, where nobody is talking they recall the fun. The bus breaks, goes over a bump in Changamwe and startles the sleep. How one was aided to swim at the pirates’ beach and while far from others was asked for sex. She could not refuse. It was good though and better than doing it with a foolish class commoner. She remembers how the salt caused itching. The coconut fresh drink is not as good as the fermented one. It is for the saints. Or rather the pretenders. She throws the husks outside in the moving busses. It misses falling on an overtaking speeding car.

When one begins a recall story, a dumb sign is soon adopted and the mouth hisses to stop the talkers. What happened in Coast remains in coast. This is how bad memories and hangovers are taken care of. The filth anyway is with them and no amount of bathing can stop it. It will not be of surprise to stage a strike after Liverpool VCT announces the results of prevalence of sexually transmitted diseases. The administration will be looked at with a hateful eye as if they were around when inner wares were lowered. 

Our trip was fun. We want another one just like the other one!