I recall sometime back when hokum was being peddled around that dirt is good. A sizeable section of my comrades swallowed the malarkey hook, line and sinker. Heck, they even digested the tripe such that it became their DNA to be slovenly and generally walk around looking like a sack of communal compost manure. It is revolting, disgusting and makes my old man nauseated.
smellyarmpits1This sect of comrades seems to have made a firm pact with the devil to crucify hygiene and all the ideals that cleanliness stands for. They don’t give a hoot about microbes, germs, lice, bacteria, rats and other disease-causing creatures that might eventually kill them. Though he appreciates that this may go a long way in thinning the herd, Grandpa Richard is extremely concerned that such comrades make it their business to brutally assault others with their filth!
He recalls a few months ago when paramedics had to resuscitate him after he’d passed out in a matatu courtesy of one of my comrades. The comrade had apparently stretched his arm across Grandpa’s face in order to take a selfie. The stench emanating from the armpits, which caused the retiree to lose consciousness, stunk worse than a government that denies its media the right to operate freely.
Why would a comrade conflate armpit and pubic hair with a game park? They may argue that they’re saving up on sweaters by grooming a thick pelt of bodily hair but all it does is to tame “wild life” and trap germs.
Basic etiquette like carrying a handkerchief seems to have been shot down as comrades will sneeze into each others’ faces, cough with their mouths wide open, and proceed to wipe their snorts with their elbows. Trimming of fingernails has become alien, with comrades carrying more dirt underneath their yellow stinky fingernails than an entire pit latrine ever could.
Such comrades will bunk the shower for days and spend their entire college lives covered in a fine layer of dirt. They usually smell so bad that it wouldn’t be far-fetched to suggest they glow neon in the dark. And don’t get me started on their unkempt wigs and smelly dreadlocks. Clearly, it a sight Mr. Pig himself looks upon with jealousy.
I recall an erstwhile pitch-black comrade of mine whom we aptly referred to as Blacky. Blacky never knew that he was actually light-skinned until he graduated and washed his face one morning in anticipation for a job interview.
Their rooms too emit the same vibe as their bodies, looking dirtier than election officials who sell the dignity of their country for a bowl of chicken soup. Isn’t it a wonder that many university students have been forced to donate blood to bedbugs?
How do we expect university students to be the face of our country while they’re still bearing last week’s miraa on their front teeth? It’s ludicrous!
Comrades, just because ancient sources teach that we came from dirt doesn’t mean we should live in dirt too.

Lukorito Jones

When I'm not busy chasing around stories for my quasi-journalism career, you'll find me dabbling in fiction and perfecting my deer-dancing and goat-screaming skills.


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