Once upon a time, we thought we could change the world. I suppose an inflated sense of our worth had a lot to do with it.
We considered ourselves wiser than people who had eaten many more Christmases than us. We thought we were smarter than people who were much more educated than us. We thought the world owed us a living and our tantrums were a signal for everyone to stop what they were doing and take our side. We thought we were young, beautiful and God’s gift to the earth. We believed we were stronger than any government, and those stuffy old men and women had to quake in their shoes the moment we raised our collective voice.
Those were the days. We thought they would never end. But end they did.
Now we are older and truly wiser. We are, in fact, much smarter than all those years ago, when we believed our fantasies. Today, we are ashamed to note that we were just dumb when we thought we were educated. Ever since being thrown out into the real world we have realized no one owes us a living.
It is each for themselves and the father of the skinny white bloke with sad blue eyes and long blond hair for everyone.
Some day, the students at varsity will wake up in the real world. In the meantime they are going through that journey of life called discovery.
The journey means they have never seen any water or electricity bill. They have never set eyes on a piece of paper called a writ of summons for non payment of a mortgage. They have never cursed the day they got married to a woman who, together with her kids, is the stuff of nightmares.
At least when varsity is on they have never gone to bed hungry. They never have to worry about being retrenched because the economy has slowed down.
Today’s varsity students look at us and think we are idiots because we have to get up every morning and go and toil for people with whom we share a mutual dislike. They do not know anything about paying tax. They are having the time of their lives.
It just has to stop.
At the risk of sounding like a stuffy father, let me declare that indeed I am a stuffy father. I accept that, now and then, varsity students have to play intellectual by gathering in the student union to practice the bombastic words that are not spoken in everyday speech. I mean what would be the point of varsity life if now and then the kids were not allowed to imagine they can change the world. Not allowed to dream for a few hours that they can seize power and do a much better job than the adults. It happens to every varsity student.
Like I said, it is a journey of self discovery. And if you will it is a journey of delusion and imagination ran riot. Pun intended.
At varsity in the rowdy meetings, students exercise the right to denounce proper well-run countries like America. They enjoy the pleasure to admire dictators in Cuba and Iraq and to even march in solidarity. Isn’t it funny how varsity students admire dictators in charge of far off lands without wishing their country to come under a dictatorship? Such is their logic. They wish bad upon others whilst wishing good for themselves.
I am now fed up with those hoodlums at the big school. It is time those who want to study to be separated from the free loaders who regard varsity as a paid holiday, all expenses covered. Not one more day are my taxes going to be spent on rascals who think everyone owes them a living.
A fortnight ago the university was sealed because the infants were trying to play adults by telling the authorities what to do. Shutting down the place was a good idea. They obviously needed time to cool off and crave for nice food such as chicken, rice, jelly and custard.
And I can bet you for many of them, it was a long week. They were back on village food and bathing in a tin tub full of cold water. When it was announced that the big school would open only after a week, I knew the authorities had made a big mistake. They should have kept the place closed for long enough to ensure that when the freeloaders returned, all they would be thinking about would be a hot shower, jelly, rice and custard.
My worst nightmare came true. The moment the institution opened, they were at it again. They seem to enjoy being on television.
This time they were even insulting their headmaster.
I think enough is enough.
Stern action is needed. The professor who runs the university seems mellow. Too nice, in fact. The bloke needs to toughen up. He needs some advice on how to sort that place out.
Here is my advice. Dispensed for free as always. First of all, the professor must shut down the place again. After about a month, he should announce its opening. However only those who bring their parents along will be considered for readmission. I look forward to seeing elderly men and women arriving from the village, all dazzled by the bright lights of the city, to plead for their kids.
The professor should then announce that since their children trashed the dining hall and kitchen, they would have to bring their own cooking utensils and food in order to prepare their own meals. And, by the way, no cooking will be allowed in the hostels. That would mean they would have to make cooking fires in the open, just like they do where they come from.
The parents should be reminded to make sure their loved ones bring their own firewood, just like in the good old days back home. The professor should go on to tell the parents not to forget to buy big containers for heating bathing water because their children vandalized the power connection.
And by the way that means their kids would study by candlelight or kerosene lamps. Just like they did back in the village.
The children should also bring their own blankets because they ripped up all the bed linen when they rioted.
The children and their parents will be given a choice. If they don’t like the new conditions they can go elsewhere.
I can bet my bottom dollar the troublemakers will opt out. Only the genuine students will stomach the terrible conditions because they understand the meaning of education. After a week with all the troublemakers gone, and a new register of genuine students compiled, the professor should restore normal services for those who soldiered on. By then the wheat should be separated from the chaff. Real students from bandits. In no time the troublemakers, hungry and with little education would be roaming the streets, job hunting. They would be prepared to do any job. Then one day some of them would find themselves working in the varsity gardens and kitchen, serving those nice meals to former colleagues who had chosen education over banditry.
C’mon professor try my ideas and see the results!
