Five hours pass by. I am sitting in the library feeling unsettled yet I have to finish up writing the literature review. Maybe the only reason I feel so is because I am meeting my supervisor in the evening and I am hoping she does like it.

I have read so many articles on teenage pregnancy until my mind is off. I read that somewhere in Kenya, they marry off girls to wealthy men to get food.  Somewhere in Zambia, a girl had to engage in sexual activities so that the guy can provide her with upkeep money for school. It’s a predestined tragedy because she falls pregnant. I read that the United States has the highest rate of teenage pregnancies in the developed world. It’s higher than that of United Kingdom. Somewhere in Ethiopia, a girl doesn’t know what is marriage. It’s her husband raising her up though. This is a messed up world..

My stomach is growling and all I want is to get my hands on food. You know me, if I am not eating, I am tragically sick. I might even die. My brother asks me that question whenever I fall sick

Winnie, are you eating anything??

A little ( feeble voice)

Good. You are going to pull through.
And he hangs up on me.

I get out of the library and head for the printing bureau. Bastards are charging me like a non student and I curse them as I rush towards the Gandhi Wing offices. The guard is on her phone and I manage to pass by without showing my student’s id. I take the stairs to fourth floor because the catering staff have decided to load the elevator with whatever they are serving. I head immediately to my supervisors office. It reads

Dr. Jennifer Birech

Knock.. knock..

I turn the doorknob. It’s locked.. again!! I feel my anger rise. I haven’t taken lunch. I took light breakfast. The best this woman could do is at least be there.

I take out my phone and dial her number.. it rings for about a minute and gives me the no answer response. I feel insulted.

I walk to the department of sociology and social work. I ignore the greetings from the secretary.

Is Dr Birech around??

No, she is unwell.

My spirit sinks. Did she have to fall sick now?? I want to freaking graduate this december!!! I ask if I can go through her shelf and the secretary shrugs. I go through it anyway. Then staring right at me is the background I dropped at her shelf last week but one..

No.. no.. no… I want to cry. She is supposed to have gone though that, picked the errors and left it for me to rectify. It’s untouched.

My theoretical framework questions are unanswered. How am I going to make progress if one of us isn’t working. I want to cry because I want her to approve the work soon so that I can go for field work..

I take the stairs out slowly. As I pass outside Taifa hall, I discover they placed a new photo of staff who passed. And a candle.. and flowers. I feel bad enough to want to sign the tribute book until I take a closer look.. darn it!! It’s the nice guy who was in charge of our hostel. I feel even worse.

This is a day I want to indulge. Sleep, warm hug and if I am lucky, a long call from someone. I leave school wondering why nobody is calling to indulge me in a cake tasting place.

always winnie