There are things that make us laugh. And there are things that make us cry. There are memories that we are fond of, but there are memories that we would rather forget than remember. It is the power of the mind and personal choice that determine what we dwell on during our moments of recall... stints of reminiscences?
I don’t know whether it is boredom or the fear of failure that sets my medusa oblongata purring/warring, but I know that once in a while I inadvertently indulge myself in occasional trips down yonder in the valley or recesses of my brain. May I enjoin you in a tête-à-tête about some seminars we hold down in Athi River Campus. We hold some workshops/talks every other semester as part of stimulating the learning environment to make it more exciting.
It is during one of these sessions that the inevitable happened. An uninvited guest trouped into the ICT Theatre building to partake of the session. It seemed to have just dropped from the ceiling abruptly. The green grass snake would intermittently slither down the brick decorated wall, lift its head slightly as though straining to catch a word or two, stare at the audience and then lay its scaly body smugly on the wall. Once in a while the snake would slither upwards as though daring to walk out on the talk, as if saying we were beginning to bore the audience.
Surprisingly and as if tempted by an interesting word here and there, the snake would come down once again only so slightly, take its now usual position, cock its head, flick its tongue and generally roam its eyes on the audience. Did it have a brain? So what was going on in its mind?
I had one main worry though. What rationale was the snake using to determine how low to climb? How long to listen? Was it even following our conversation? A few guys had noticed its presence but not our guest speaker. At least the majority of the audience was not privy to this impromptu guest. What would happen if the snake decided to come down and occupy a seat? Pandemonium would have broken loose if most students would have gotten a whiff of the spectacle!
A few days later I got the sad news that the security guards managed to track the snake down and kill it. Was it worthwhile? I know not...
Then the other day another green grass snake decides to pop into my class. A student of philosophy or a wandering stranger? It could have been thirst or clamour for a cool shelter. The snake suddenly appeared on the window sill, flicked its tongue as a way of greetings and slithered into the classroom.
A female student nearest the window first froze – in awe or consternation? I don’t know! I suspect she was trying to process what her eyes were seeing because she afterwards screamed and jumped at the same time. Adrenalin must have been having a field day with her. As if on cue, the other students jumped away in unison. In that split second, it suddenly downed on us all that we had an uninvited guest in our class.
Once more I wondered what the snake must have been experiencing in the face of this sudden furore! Need I say anything more? Most of us dashed out even as I made arrangements with the security guard who clobbered the poor thing to death. Not until I saw the stains on the white tiled floor did I reconcile myself to the fact that even a snake has blood. Please don’t judge me but I am not a fun of whatever kind of snake.
I just wish I could have shared the thoughts of the snake in those last minutes before its life expired. Did it have any final wishes? I guess I will never get to know. Or do you have any clue by the way?