Of A First Experience With A Cadaver.

Cadaver. The word is cold. It sends shivers down your spine and makes your mind conjure up morbid thoughts or images of dead bodies lying in a morgue. You think of a horror movie, maybe even skeletons. At least that's what I thought. If you're wondering what I'm going on about, well, I saw a cadaver, touched it and even did some cutting. Something I never thought I could stomach. I even managed to have lunch afterward without the thought of throwing up crossing my mind. Back to my story, the time was twelve in the afternoon on Wednesday this week. Approximately 200 of us stood outside the anatomy lab, eager to see what awaited us, knowing that this was a moment we would never forget. I wondered how I would react. Would I faint at the first sight, shed tears or run out screaming? Would I have nightmares after this and be left traumatized? There was no turning back now. The atmosphere was tense you could cut through it with a knife.Names were called and we went in and got into our respective groups. Afterward, we introduced ourselves to each other. This was an ice-breaker and from then on things began run smoothly. Then it was time to open up the cadaver. Together we pulled back the layers covering it. It was a male. I couldn't see his face though. That would make it too real. We took turns with the scapel and began to cut up 'our patient'. Despite the choking stench we kept going. Eventually it felt like I was just cutting up meat not a human body. Throughout, I wondered who he had been....someone's brother, boyfriend, son. I wondered how and why he ended up in an anatomy lab. However I appreciated the opportunity to learn from him. At the end of the session, I didn't want to leave. I had enjoyed my day. Me, stinking of Formalin, enjoying my time with a cadaver. Who would have thought.

Why I hate driving.

See, today I almost got into three separate accidents. One of which could have been serious. I like to think I'm a very good driver, it's the rest of humanity I worry about. I long for the days when I was a fresh on the road. I was more relaxed then. I still remember the day I enrolled into Wings driving school next my mum's office (I have humble beginnings). Everyday I diligently made my way to class despite being turned away on several occasions (see, they had only one car/instructor). I also still remember the day I took my test. I recall the very uncomfortable journey where around sixty of us were bundled into the back of a lorry hadi Thika road...the fear I felt as I did the theory, the relief after I was done and the elation when I passed and later got my license. I was a young driver equipped for the road or so I thought. Let's just say I was bullied. It was traumatic. It had me thinking that maybe I should have gone to AA instead of a juakali driving school. Eventually I found my bearing and fear became a thing of the past. But 5 months later, I'm tired. I'm almost fed up of the hours spent looking for parking (while kanjo wait for the right moment to clamp me), I'm tired of the 14-seaters  and the likes of probox drivers who get my blood pressure up and make my blood boil because all these things come with driving. Sometimes I wish I carried a gun in my handbag. I'm sure I wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. Anyway I realise that on the road everyday is a learning experience. Sometimes it can be brutal. I guess I need to come to terms with that. 

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Lecturers Strike

You know you're in public uni when the lecturers go on strike for an indefinite period and don't give a crap about how it affects your life. We students are usually the collateral damage when lecturers and the government disagree. We discovered this today when a very rowdy bunch of them bearing twigs and sticks stormed into the hall and kicked us out of class. Terrified and confused, we grabbed our belongings and headed for the exits not sure of what to do next. I previously thought that such occurrences were just rumours. Not anymore. So a cloud of uncertainty hangs over us. I hear this could take a week, two or worse, a month.

Back To School

I hated that phrase back in High school. I hated the day before school most for many reasons but mainly because I would never finish my homework on time. So I would trans-night and burn the midnight oil writing notes and essays on the night before. I cannot remember ever having a full night's sleep the night before school in all my years. Opening day was just as bad if not worse because I'd enter class but alas! there was so much had not done. Things were thick! Sometimes I would vumilia to do what I could but there were some rough times when I had to visit the chapel to seek divine intervention and pray for a miracle because otherwise I would find myself in school on a Saturday(detention). The latter was a very tricky situation because I'd have to explain to my father why I did not finish work that I'd been given four weeks to finish. If I managed to toboa week one, I'd always promise to do my work on time but I never quite got round to doing that. Sometimes I think if I put as much effort in my studies as I  did during those few days, I'd have done much better in school. Anyway, hopefully I can find that motivation in Uni. So anyway, today was our first day of class or it was supposed to be. No first day could end without its ups and downs. Today I learned that keeping time is a foreign concept in public Uni. I did not get the memo thus I was on campus by 7.30 am. The lecturers were also on strike. If I were in High School, this would be cause for celebration. The Irony. How times change. Why am I unhappy? I'm looking at a good six years in Uni. I don't think I can make it to seven.They did not show up as promised last week. But luckily a really good teacher/lecturer showed up to save the day and teach us some basics. Anyway, hopefully there'll be a change tomorrow. Fingers Crossed.  

Monday Blues

So Registration began on Monday Morning. I wake up early but end up leaving home at like ten a.m. Before I leave, mum makes it a point to give me yet another mini-lecture. 'Don't be lazy, join drug dealers or 'campus divas'. You could get killed you know', she says. That done, I make my way to the uni and the line is crazy. I decide to go to the bank first then worry about the line later. I take a matatu to town and head to the bank. It's two in the afternoon. Nothing to worry about. I'll make it on time..................... Warning: Please forgive me because I'm about to rant. An hour later, I'm still in the same position in-line. Getting impatient. Good thing I have a novel in my bag. I start reading but only get to page three. The damn line is not moving at all. I'm wondering why do banks have like eight counters and only two tellers? At the rate these guys are going I'm considering looking for another bank but it's too late. Feeling more positive, I get back to my reading. Yet another hour goes by and I'm not even near the front of the queue. That's two precious hours of my life I'll never get back. I wish I could pay someone to line up for me. Now I'm getting mad. I'll definitely write some nasty comment in their suggestion box. When I finally get to the front of the line, the teller tries to make small talk. Not today dude. The only line worse than this would be the KPLC line. Who makes people wait for three hours to make a deposit? Apparently this bank. Finally done. I walk out and it just had to start raining. Anyway, to cut this long story short, I didn't make it in time.