MY EDITING DAYS

By Nikwenda Manyondo

Hehe, sometimes I understand why politicians feel distraught when they lose power. You see, power is very sweet. Eei. Having the autonomous right to determine the life of someone. That shiit is addictive I swear.

Back in high school, I was the secretary of the Journalism club. So whenever it was time to publish the school magazine, I was part of the editorial board. We were the ones who decided what got in, and what was binned. The magazine was a big thing. Every student wanted to contribute something in it. The mag will probably land at Karima girlz or Limuru girls. And they’ll see your name under an interesting article or poem. And they’ll fall in love with you. And have give you their numbers. Because you’re a celeb in the Alliance. And they’ll have raw sex with you…

It was officially announced that students can bring forth their cheesy jokes, lifeless poems, low-grade sketchings and plagiarized inspirational articles. They came in hundreds. And this is when my power becomes apparent. Ordinarily, we would spend hours surveying through that mish-mash of bulshit to determine which ones were worthy enough for publication.

Lord, I just loved how niggas would beg me like infants to have their trash considered. I would keep them in mystery. Tell them I was nor working alone. The chairman could decide it wasn’t good enough and his word was final. Oh! They begged. Some even paying some small cash to bribe me. I am ashamed to say I was corrupt…But it was so sweet. Corruption slaps!

And my enemies…Ha! I remember seeing a long article by Boniface Oketch. I remembered how he slapped me the previous year and crumpled his shit and tossed it in the bin. I could imagine his disappointment shuffling through the pages and seeing nothing bana…Power is sweet.

However, there were some imbeciles who loved to use shortcuts. They wrote articles and tossed them in the principal’s suggestion box. The principal would be so ‘enamored’ by them. He would then direct us to find a place for it in the magazine. How I hated these people who thought they could cheat their way out of my bureaucratic hubris…

Hehe! Good times. I hope my manuscripts will not suffer the same fate. I confessed and asked for forgiveness from our lady of Fatima, Maria Mtakatifu.