“Human wants are unlimited and insatiable, and that is why economics as a subject will never be irrelevant to the society, especially to students in THE University. You learn how to manage the little resources that you have to satisfy your wants” He hesitated; ‘little’ was not the term to use in an economics class.
“Scarcity creates value,” he went on. “Some of you girls are already living in well- furnished and refined apartments, or driving ostentatious vehicles, thanks to the resources that you sitting on!” There was a roar of laughter…
“…but again, when these resources are too available, they lose value, tihihi, and when the high bidders stop their bids, you start realizing that even your classmates whom you thought to be immature and unworthy of your attention can afford to…” he did not complete his statement. The joke was perfectly sinking through the class, and knowing glances being thrown to a few girls.
This was the hilarious and well-built Professor Mathayo doing what he did best,
lecturing. No one ever missed his classes deliberately, and he was looked up to by
the students. But then, as fate would have it, he too was a dupe to Naserian’s recent
revenge mission. He had walked himself to the trap, being the last of the three
hundred and twenty two men that she had deliberately attempted to spread the HIV
virus to. Seated at the far end of the class, Naserian was crying. She looked at him
and silently prayed that she had not infected him. The University still needed him,
and so did his family and the society. Guilt was chewing her and could literally feel
the pain in her bones. From a distance, she could hear the class’ laughter. She
Her story was all over in the social media. She was trending on twitter. Instagram was flooded with photos mocking her and she was the centre of focus from all bloggers and media houses in the country, you know how the Kenyan ones operate. In the local newspapers, she had made headlines. The Informer, for instance, read ‘When Gold Rush Yields a Death Gift, Beware of Campus Girls’ then an image of a grave drawn beside it. Lucky enough, the identity of the culprit had been withheld. Naserian had made history! She, people had said, was an attention whore, a misfit to the society, a social climber and a failure to her generation; one who had tainted the hard-earned good reputation of the University, and all institutions of higher learning in the country. Now more than ever, people had the ‘holier than thou’ attitude.
But just when did she lose her track? This is the story; the story that describes Naserian’s heart-breaking, appalling and yet interesting journey. The tough choices that she made, the path that she took, and the path she ought to have taken.
Born of a Doctor and a staunch Pastor, Naserian was bound to become the star that she was. She was a brilliant kid with evident leadership qualities right from a tender age. In church, she led the choir, in school she led with a difference. In the Primary school national exam, she emerged the top pupil in the province. It was expected, she was a gifted child anyway. She joined one of the most prestigious schools in the country, and still she was outstanding. She knew what she wanted, SUCCESS. She gave all the speeches during occasions, and every time, she would deliver beyond expectation. You know that old success quote that ‘success is when one renders a service or delivers a task beyond what people think he/she can do; regardless of the circumstances? She was the embodiment of success, if we were to go by that quote. To her peers, she was setting the standards too high, this was a mediocre generation. They settled for the bare minimum that they needed to survive, they were comfortable being in the average zone, they were rowdy and believed that their destinies were predetermined. That was generation Y. To Naserian; hers was hard- earned success. Over the years, she had learned that victory loved preparation. And so she prepared herself for every little task and opportunity that came her way. The results magnified her beauty- things well done definitely make the doer look even better.
Naserian wanted to pursue a career in Economics. She was determined to turn the Kenyan economy round. She believed in self-employment, that those elite few would not eye employment but rather use their skills to create opportunities for those who were risk averse, or did not have the necessary skills to start up their own ventures. A degree in Economics would help her get a clearer picture, and equip her with the skills she needed. True to her ambitions, she secured a position in the finest university in the country to pursue her dream. Her parents thanked God for her and would never tire motivating children who would constantly tell them that, when they grew up they wanted to be Naserian. Barely twenty, yet an idol.
She started her university education at a high notch. She was still focused and would never act to the behest of those older campus boys who were keen to snatch the finest and purest of the new lot of students. This cream was thought to be naïve and easy to get. As a first year student, she did not escape the sudden attention that comes along with it. The girls were treated like queens, taken out frequently, guarded jealously and pampered with gifts. They would always get curious glances whenever they were headed for class. They felt like they had tags on their foreheads stating that they were all fresh.
Nas was pretty from the day she was born, and with passing years, she became a picture of perfection. The kind that breaks necks on a daily basis. Fair complexion, curvy on both sides and patrician in her sense of style. Her carefully chosen intoxicating fragrances turned necks of the few who had a nose for fine class. The sparkle in her eyes was sunshine to the men who ever came close to her. Then her hair, a rich shade of black that was long and ever well kempt. They confused her for a girl of Cushitic origin. But it was not the regal aura that ultimately made her the million dollar bet target for men. It was not even the confidence with which she carried herself, or the fact that she almost looked snobbish. It was because of the whole package. Hers was a lethal combination, beauty, brains, and an adorable personality is a very rare combination, and she knew she had it all.
She was starting to feel like a little uncomfortable about the keen attention she was getting. She had never known that she was that pretty; she always raised the boys’ eyebrows whenever she passed and would often shy away. But then the feeling was mutual among all her classmates. No bet on her had gone through yet. She would distance herself whenever people started singing her praises for she had been warned against them. Just before joining the university, the last words of wisdom from her mother were ‘Forewarned is forearmed; beware if someone is always singing your praises. They always want something from you and are up to no good. Do me proud.’
She ought to have continued walking on the same path…
Big little girl | story teller for all seasons | Kenyan |