6.00a.m.: Turning a new leaf I suppose; got up this early to prepare for Const. Law class at nine. It’s been a week since I discovered this journal and vowed to make entries. I was thrilled by the idea of recording each day’s events every evening but procrastination took better hold of me. How to fight that? Well, people say ‘just get up and do it’ but I need motivation; the chance that this book might be found out a century later and count as a great work of art should do it. Ha ha yeah, right.
8.00a.m.: Finished showering, dressing and even making breakfast, if black tea with two sugars counts as breakfast. Maybe waking up at six wasn’t such a good idea. I thought of perusing through my notes, maybe borrow my roommate’s notes, get what they had covered last Monday. Nah, what better than good music to start my day.
9.10a.m.: So I got up at dawn but still got late for class. I blame my good taste in music. I must have got carried away as I don’t remember seeing Rachael leave for class. I hid my laptop under my pillow, threw a bunch of clothes on the bed, grabbed my note book and phone and raced to class.
11.00a.m.: I think my concentration span is two hours tops. The lectures at school are however scheduled for three. What is a girl to do for an extra hour? Daydream. It’s better than sleeping and getting caught then having to face the embarrassment that ensues.
“Nafula! Nafula!” The guy seated next to me was calling out my name in loud whispers at the same time prodding at my arm. I figured he wanted his pen back and I dreamily located it on my desk, preparing an angry face to show him how annoyed I was at his unnecessarily violent behavior for only a pen.
“Nafula! Your phone!” I snapped out of it immediately. My phone was ringing! The lecturer had gone dumb and instead had his eyes glued on me; the entire class was watching me. I gracefully (not) picked up the phone and switched it off, I pressed on that button so hard that I left a lesion with my nail.
I thought that the class would continue smoothly, but that had been too much to hope for.
“If you are going to be interrupting us with your phone, you’d at least have a decent ringtone, not some annoying polyphonic sound.” The class burst out at the lecturer’s remarks. I hate Uni.
12.10p.m.: I should have sped back to my room after class. “Yaani, you were asleep!” They were all looking at me with silly grins spread on their faces. I pretended to laugh back, it was no use explaining that I had not fallen asleep.
1.30p.m.: Lunch with Angela at the mess; Chapati and Matumbo for only thirty bob.
7.00p.m.: On my third movie since lunch time I realized my phone had been switched off. Who had been calling me anyway? I dialed the number, whoever it was they must have had something urgent to say; I had missed three of his calls. Three missed calls, maybe I had fallen asleep in class in the morning.
After the call I ran straight for Angela’s room. The person who’d been calling, Dave, claimed that we had met last Sunday, on my birthday, he’d propositioned me a job, I had agreed to give him a date and that’s how he had my number. I couldn’t remember talking to any Dave. Angela did. Well, I’ll find out more about this Dave and his job tomorrow as I’m meeting him at one; you don’t get to be young long so mistakes are allowed every now and then.
BY ESTHER K