Scars

Waking up with a surge of enthusiasm swirling in my gut, I prepared for the day I would join campus. Saying goodbye to my beloved grandmother, who had nurtured and raised me into the man I had become, filled me with a bittersweet ache I hadn’t anticipated. At precisely 4:00 AM, we set off, my mind a tumult of nostalgia, joy, and a poignant sadness. Questions buzzed through my mind: What would the first day be like? How is it to live alone? What do people do on their first day? These seemingly trivial musings collided with the profound realization that I was no longer a child but a young man stepping into his own life.

Leaning against the bus window, tears of sorrow welled up in my eyes. Memories from my childhood through my adolescence played like a movie reel in my mind, my grandparents the steadfast pillars of my existence. The heart-wrenching reality of leaving them hit me with full force. By 6:00 AM, we had arrived at my dream school. The excitement that had been bubbling inside me since finishing high school came rushing back, an intoxicating blend of freedom and anticipation for the life I was about to begin.

After a lengthy wait, I finally found myself queuing for admission at the prestigious university, where I soon faced an unexpected twist of fate. After hours of standing in the wrong line, a wave of dismay swept over me. F**k! Disappointment etched itself on my face as I hurriedly redirected to the journalism hall, room 302, where my course’s students were being admitted. Fortunately, I wasn’t too late and received card number 36 for registration.

With the aid of a non-teaching staff member, I found my way to the lecture hall and waited patiently for my turn. The hall, filled with about 70 students, was enveloped in a heavy silence. No murmurs or laughter broke the air; we all grappled with the challenge of initiating new conversations. Most of us were glued to our phones, chatting in a newly created WhatsApp group. My phone, however, was dead, and I had forgotten my charger at home. Resigned, I decided to take a nap. After 30 minutes, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

I opened my eyes to see a dark, fair-skinned lady smiling at me. She greeted me with a cheerful “Hey,” and we quickly started chatting. It felt like a small victory to have found someone to talk to. As time flew by, it was our turn for registration. The process was swift, and I felt a surge of joy, knowing that soon, I would be able to rest in the hostels.

A surprise phone call from my sister brought unexpected news: she was already at the university, waiting at the ground floor. Overjoyed, I shared this with my uncle and grandfather, and we gathered my suitcase and bag, ready to explore my new room. The walk to the hostels was arduous. We had to cross a tunnel from the main campus to the hostel, and the numerous staircases were especially taxing for my elderly grandfather. As we walked, I chatted with my sister, who was even more excited than I was about my joining the university. She shared stories about campus life, her eyes sparkling with pride and love for my achievement.

Finally, we arrived at the entrance to my new hall. Anticipation welled up inside me as I prepared to meet my unknown roommate. On the staircase, I made my first friend, who would later become a source of both companionship and anxiety. Directed to hall 10, I was handed the key to my room. With my sister, grandfather, and uncle’s help, I carried my belongings to my ground-floor room. The state of the room was shocking: dusty tables, neglected wardrobes, broken lamps, and damaged sockets. It was hard to believe this would be my home for the next year.

This marked the beginning of a new journey. We joined hands as my grandfather led a heartfelt prayer, dedicating my life at campus to the Lord. We then walked back to the main campus gate, where the inevitable moment of separation loomed. My grandfather gave my sister and me a thousand shillings each to buy whatever we needed. After thanking him and bidding him farewell, I gave my sister a hug that seemed to last an eternity. “Now you are on your own!” echoed in my mind as I walked back to the hostels, tears streaming down my cheeks. I felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness and the crushing reality of my new independence.

Returning to the hostels, I set to work cleaning the dusty room, making my bed, and arranging my belongings. Once everything was in order, I decided to check in on the friend I had made earlier.