CU Fun Day

CU Fun Day

Who said being Christian cannot be cool?

“She tripped and fell. The pressure behind was stifling and air was limited. I fell on her. It was not my fault. I dusted and went on but not before lifting her. By this time the queues were distorted and casualties were littered everywhere.

BY MUSYOKA NGUI

Tembea na Yesu

Kimbia na Yesu

Lala na Yesu*3

This song greeted me as I entered Mungoni Retreat Centre. I was flanked by my friends. It was my maiden hideout of that nature and you can expect several surprises.

What started as an escape from monotony of reading held much more in store yesterday for us. The event was supposed to start at 8 am and end at 1pm. Trust Kenyans to arrive late. But I guess it was because of the large numbers involved. A whole 500 faithfuls had subscribed for the retreat. Each paid KES. 20 to earn a yellow, blue, pink and white fun card. Simple math says the contribution was KES. 10,000. On top of that only 300 turned up. The savings were immense.

I am told by a religious attendee friend that last time they ate only biscuits and juice. He expected more this time round. No wonder when he received a bowl of rice, mango slices, ndengu and giant potato he smiled and quipped, “maendeleo haya.”

In the morning the sun shone as if it had a grudge against us. As expected the fun had to go on. Firstly, the gamers were called forward to air their expectations. Some said they wanted to lose weight, others to evangelize, most eat, dance and make friends. One said she wanted more people to show up and fill the field.

Forget about the formal and boring schedule. The best action took place behind the scenes. On the sidelines not the front podium and table. Without much ado I take you there.

I landed a yellow card. For some strange reasons the MC kept spreading propaganda that it was the winning combination (Team Yellow)-which eventually did. What with ranks swelling with Kalenjins-the stereotype was reinforced. Then the Luos cheered giniwasekao. Soon we took the cue and joined the chorus. When I went to acquire my card I found friends scheming to manipulate either card colour or card number outcomes so that they end up in the same play groups with their friends since the card colours and numbers were the criteria. How that escaped the attention of the MC cum the mobiliser beats me given her experience in public organization. Remember she is our boss and I will tread carefully not to antagonize myself with the boss lest I get black listed on receiving class cancellation, class fixing and other impromptu time table changes. That is Su for you.

There was no official wear. I cared less. I speak for many men out there. They don’t give a damn about dressing. The cardinal rule is as long as it is clean it is wearable. But I got free tips from the descendants of Eve. They were careful to carry water on customized bottles, wear caps, rubber shoes and did fairly good dressing on their tropics. You see men have no qualms donning a jean, short, vest and some T-Shirt with funny writings but ladies stand before the mirror and wardrobe for eternity contemplating about colour combination, makeup and other nitty gritties which justify the fake “You look great” comment and an unforgivable mental note from a friend who never seem to see and know leave alone appreciate that she did her hair just for his attention.

Some brothers are really clueless. Sisters took a swipe at them for not differentiating artificial hair from natural one, wearing creased clothes, torn socks and having Safaricom wallets. Seriously! In 21^st century?

However, that is not to say girls do not get it wrong. Some do it big time. How on earth can anyone hit the pitch on a funnel shaped skirt. The type worn by Scottish men.  And with nothing inside. And they expect the visual Adams to look the other way when the MC orders those taxing gymnastic commands expecting a military discipline. It happened to me once today. For some unfortunate coincidence I was caught flat footed by the mingle mingle song. The type you are told to concentrate and keep our attention to the rhythm of the game. Like a lottery ticket, I landed a well blessed second half. The instruction was we face backs. We did. We clasp hands from behind. We did. Then shameless Su dropped the bombshell. “Carry her to the other goal post and return.”

Ai! I wished for a wheelbarrow. As that unfolded I could see men falling out of race for fear of weight or the tempting contact. It was a ‘slimpossible’ case.

Those who braved the pressure did not last long. Sweat beads dropped profusely from their foreheads, armpits and back. Others fell and sustained injuries. Lucky are those who lifted 1GBs.

Sack race was marred by gross irregularities. Someone ripped the bottom in order to walk. I could not believe it was happening but it actually did. Rivals raised serious concerns but were shut down with the now infamous catch phrase of accept and move on. Yellow team accumulated points. I could not complain. After all who was I to?

Relays were fast and furious. Two boys and two girls from each team battled it out. The batons were exchanged. We crossed fingers. We cheered. Unfortunately our team lost to blue. Mortal threats were hurled. Ukishindwa usirudi hapa! The opposite was unfolding on blue team. They carried their champions shoulder high and mocked us. Never mind they are one hit wonders savouring a comeback.

The most gruelling game selected 20 participants from each of the four teams. They lined up. The instructions were: bend over, pass your left hand between your thighs and grab the other fellow behind who is bent in a similar posture. On your front hold the next person’s right hand with your left. The chain reared to go. As soon as the train was flagged off I lost grip of the fellow behind. The one in front fell. I jumped over him. The next was a she. She tripped and fell. The pressure behind was stifling and air was limited. I fell on her. It was not my fault. I dusted and went on but not before lifting her. By this time the queues were distorted and casualties were littered everywhere. I bruised my knee and ankle.

Others who graced the event were CU top guns and FOCUS staff Ronald Mumo and one Kamau( a White guy on exchange programme).

In the afternoon it rained. Blessings. No more dust.

The writer studies Bachelors of Arts Degree in Communication and Media at Chuka University. He blogs at musyokangui.blogspot.com

Email your thoughts to musyokangui02@gmail.com