Carry it Out, Come What May

Getting the title for this piece proved a hard nut to chew… until I read a certain book that inspired me to settle on the above. But before I settled on it, I had thought of: …Making Decisions in Life. This sounded nice but it lacked the punch, or sensationalizing spirit, that I was looking for. It also sounded like it had been picked from those How To Internet sites.

I was then involved in a long thought process which yielded so many other possible titles that I wouldn’t want to list down in this space.

Then came the bolt from the blue, which I bolted for…It Was on a Saturday! Eureka! And for all the time I sat down to seduce words to marry sentences which mated into paragraphs while I constantly aborted the unnecessary errors, this title wowed me.

Then something changed.

I woke up at 6am to prepare for my 8am class on Saturday. I arrived in time – the way I always do – and everything was going on fine. After all it is still May. The lecturer came in, introduced herself, making us comfortable in front of her and I believe vice versa, taught us with such exuberance and everything was going on fine.

Then she turned tables.

Now it was our turn to be known. I had expected this, but earlier in the lesson. Anyway, being the voice of authority and going by the reasoning that it was only fair she knew the kind of dumb or whiz kid heads she was dealing with, the first student on the far left corner obliged. And so did the whole class.

The introduction was quite interesting with everyone saying much but not all. Of my pick was this gentleman who said he is not perfect but so near to it that it makes him get worried. Then came my turn, apparently the last one though I was occupying my most favourite front  position.

I followed the standing up status quo said my name, a few other things and intentionally mentioned that I like sitting infront and being infront as a result, to the chagrin of a student I can’t quite remember her face.

Then I made probably the blunder of my May. Said I’m also a blogger before sitting down. Oh, and there she was. The lecturer. “What do you blog about,” she asked letting out a suggestive smile. I again stood up saying, “a variety of issues, societal, personal and others,” which is true. My blog stands out from the rest because it’s not personal. It can highlight the plight of a husband who gets thorough beatings from the wife everyday just as much as it can highlight when I have had to skip a luncheon in preference to a cup of strong tea with roasted maize.

“What’s the name of your blog,” inquired the lecturer. “Thesteifmastertake,” I voiced back as she handled a blue marker which I used to write the URL on the neatly rubbed white board. Before I made the three steps back to my seat, a smile tried to force its way into my face as I saw fellow students scribe down the new link in their lives. However, I managed to suppress it.

Back to my seat, my brain ran straight to Google Analytics, the free service offered by Google that generates statistics about visitors to a website. I could see the number of visitors, new ones, scaling up like stock market figures in the Nairobi Stock Exchange. I nodded in approval.

Then the smile, the Google statistics and the little pride that was gathering within disappeared. Panic set in and I felt like the world of blogging was cupping on me. And for a moment, I started cursing myself. Did I have to mention that I have a blog? Was that entirely necessary? What does it mean when I have to tell the world that read my blog about my experiences in class? Will it mean less blogs in a month now that I will be censuring what I write for fear that the administration might read something that rubs them on the wrong side? What about the students? What if I had something to write about student behaviour in my university and why they should consider throwing stones at the administration or motorists when they feel wronged?

These thoughts swam in my head one after another for one minute, and I was back with the lecturer when she started again. The spirit of May then took care of everything, meaning all went well after that.

When the class dispersed, I could only imagine how many of those who were going to the cyber there and then will log in and read a certain blog that should have preceded this one but for unavoidable circumstances. As I walked down the spiral stairs from eighth floor, a dogmatic kind of sentence flickered my head.

It is from the book; Shall We Tell The President?, by Jeffrey Archer. When Special Agent Mark Andrews, FBI, finds himself tucked in between risking losing his job by contacting the Director of the FBI without passing through his senior (who has died in a well-executed accident) and remaining silence over a cold-blooded homicide, he settles on the option of losing his job. The Author says, “he had to make up his mind what to do, and then to carry it out, come what may.”

So Mr Andrews picked the receiver and dialed the Director’s residence, because he had to do it come what may.

And this tiger-jaw situation is what gripped me as well. Should I post the blog or not? What response will I get? Was I making this too much a do about nothing?

I decided to make up my mind and post the blog, come what may.

And that's thestiefmastertake!!