I have had a very notable struggle with hunger throughout my life. From my early days growing up to this day, hunger is never too far away. When I was a little boy schooling in a primary school fairly far from home, school work wasn’t as much a challenge as hunger was. I remember having to walk home after school (mtu akiniomba fare nitamlaani) begging God for help. My prayers were often simple and so were my expectations. I was simply asking for ready food at home and no stories after that. You know those times you get home and have to do some work before you eat? That was the satanic future I prayed against.
I grew up to join high school and I don’t remember being served enough food at the dining hall at all. There was always too little food that was also very bad. The only times I had a great meal over there was when I bought a full bread and threw a one-man party for myself (quite a grandiloquent description of a small boy engulfing bread in less than a minute).
I also had to, on many occasions, change cloths after a disappointing meal and hide in the queues for a second serving at their dining hall. This was never easy, the risk of embarrassment was very high – God knows why I cared about the little boys whereas I was just trying to survive anyway.
I got to campus and things hit a new low. Starvation was always a reality waiting to happen especially after all the money goes to fun. The food I could afford, which was the little servings at the campus mess (great name by way), just never helped me for a moment. I was hungry in campus to say the very least.
After I was done with the mess situation, I swiftly graduated to having to deal with mama nitilie and those vibanda people. Those people have no intention of getting you food – their only motive is money (sobs). Let’s start with some of the research I did for this article: according to article 2a of the bill of rights, it’s OK to commit suicide if you eat your food on a plastic cancer plate by the way. Alternatively, maybe you should consider learning some cooking.
Speaking of cooking, I’m not this person you can accuse of being too gifted at the art but I make quite a terrific critic. That, including the fact that I don’t like foodies that much, explains why no one has yet to commit themselves to cooking for a wiseguy like yours truly. That leaves me with the sole option of trying to make things work out with every other food seller within my reach. I don’t know, maybe some people are good omena spinners and others prefer bargaining for cooked food. Maybe I’m good at making deals: like Donald Trump.