I’m back like Shatta Wale (and like Shatta Wale), I’ve decided not to keep my big mouth shut. Well, quite untypical of myself, I’ve decided to divert (or maybe deviate) from my usual writing of letters to our leaders on my take of political concerns on campus.
The last letter (or so) my mentor Shatta Wale wrote (I hear) landed him in court (though I hear he didn’t appear; I love that guy’s incorrigibility). Impressively, I think the usual issues I nag about have been silenced a bit. Number one of them was the semester registration. But this semester’s own was smooth and less tedious.
I must also not forget to mention something about our ladies’ dressing. It’s either they are doing well these days, or I’m the one who hasn’t been lucky enough to treat my eyes to their indecencies. But there has been improvement. Maybe they read my last article. Oh Come on! The fact that some of them don’t know how to dress well doesn’t mean they don’t know how to read. Don’t mind the body; mind the engine. I would mind both if you ask me; a nicely shaped body with heavy equipment that can confuse even the smartest, and a nicely shaped intellect.
Before I talk about a few a ways to die in KNUST, I would like to debunk the assertion that ‘whatever doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger’. What’s supposed to kill you doesn’t make you stronger. Is it mad? The fact that it failed at its first attempt doesn’t mean that’s the end. The fact that it didn’t kill you instantly doesn’t mean it can’t kill you. It would end up killing you, once it’s supposed to kill you.
Ever heard of slow poison? Ever heard of loving somebody who doesn’t love you back, or know you exist? Number one way to die in KNUST is the usual lectures and its siblings; assignments, group work and stuff. Nothing kills more than being in a two hour (or more) class and not having the slightest idea of what your lecturer is talking about. And if you are unfortunate that your lecturer doesn’t even crack a single joke, mehn, boredomness is likely to reduce your life by five minutes each hour. Worse of all is when he gives an assignment. The only thing I hate more than the first girl to ever break my heart is group work; characterized by pointlessly unnecessary arguments which kills.
Second thing likely to kill you in Kwame Nkrumah’s dearest institution is addiction. As a student, you could be addicted to so many things. You could be addicted to church. I know people who pray thirty-hours in a day to ask God to reveal exams questions to them. You could also be addicted to love. I know people who are ‘galatians’; they can walk from campus to Boadi all in the name of love. You could be addicted to books. Those are the nerds; the same ones who are very critical during discussions for group assignments. Then the party addicts; is the booze and smoke not enough? Seriously, it would kill you oh! Then the FIFA addicts (I’m in this category). I bought game controllers before I bought a laptop. One addiction worth mentioning however is pornography. It lets demons in your life, and you’re prone to other sexual sins. Listen, it’s bad. It’s so bad that if I talk too much about it, my course-mates would think I’m in this category too. Talk to a counsellor (or a prayer warrior) about it.
Being friend-zoned also kills. Guys, chicks want a ‘feeling brother’. If you go out all-looking and acting serious, you would just get zoned forever. They like you when you’re flirty and you are not being clingy. It’s either you are in that zone, or you are in no zone. Just as it is as impossible as making river flow uphill, so is getting out of the friend-zone. If she replies ‘aww…thank u’ to an ‘I love u’ text, you don’t need a prophet to tell you how deeply rooted you are in that unfriendly zone called the friend-zone. If she says, ‘you are like a brother to me’, ‘I care about you’ or ‘you and I can only be friends’, that’s so bad. Just flee. I’m yet to hear of a lady who has been friend-zoned. If you are one, you’ve got issues; more issues than Justin Beiber.
Being in a ‘relationsh*t’. There’s a difference between relationship (what’s supposed to be), and ‘relationsh*t (what it is). The first (you know) is about love, and sees marriage as its target. The second one, you know, is purely lust. You know what I mean. Just re-echoing what my pastor said last Sunday, if a guy does all kinds of things on you (and with you), what’s there for him to enjoy when he gets married to you later in life. Love (I believe) is a thing for strong. Weaklings don’t fall in love. Even if they do, they can’t stay in it. What’s the essence of building something you won’t be able to stay in? The strong are folks who can keep a lot of things hold on till the time is right.
Sickness also kills. We all know that. Ebola is real. USA with their glorious essence and technological blah blah blah recorded Ebola death, and Ghana is yet to. Aren’t we blessed? Ebola is a threat in Europe, and Liverpool FC isn’t. Those historians! They couldn’t even beat Hull City. Anyways people, I would have to end here. Would notify y’all when I notice something worth noticing. Take your books serious. Exams is few weeks away.
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