PART I: A bit of bother when a riot begins without my being aware of it...
PART II: Proof that Maurice Greene has nothing on a young man faced by bloodthirsty policemen!

I remember it as if it were yesterday. The class in question was some obscure discipline of Mathematics and it would be a lie to admit that anyone was paying attention to the portly professor as he rumbled on in front of the lecture hall. The people being educated clearly had other pursuits in mind. Some were engaged in playing noughts and crosses. The more intellectual had brought along with them chessboards and the game was in full swing. Someone in the corner was eating a mango. A good number were fast asleep and one lady in particular was snoring in a manner that reminded me of a maize mill. The couple next to me was arguing, with one chap insisting that the Wu Tang Clan was Chinese, the other insisting they were Korean. Me? I was paying attention. OK I was reading a novel under the table but at least one ear was open.

When finally the gentleman trying to educate us asked what time it was he was assured with quite unnecessary passion that it was half past twelve, and before the gent could establish this some of us were already out the door and headed for our lunch. Some of us decided to go surf and very soon, we were on our way to the labs. We had just entered the main block when a voice demanded where we were going. We looked at the speaker and forced smiles on our faces. The speaker had the dubious distinction of being unpopular with the administration staff, the academic staff and the rest of the staff. I am sure she was equally unpopular with the quarterstaff, cinematograph and epitaph. We didn't know her name and were not about to ask her for it for the excellent reason that we did not wish to know it. But anyway, she demanded to know, with her usual charm, where we were going.

She was curtly informed that if it was any of her business, we were off to the labs for a bit of surfing and she was NOT welcome to join us. She seemed unfazed by this and demanded why we were going.

Patiently we reminded her that we were students at that establishment and if she had nothing to do could she find a boat to paint with her tongue? Thank you very much! Onward we went only to be halted by the sentence:

"Are you aware that the University has been closed and the police will be here by 12:30?"

This statement caused some consternation. And we rushed back to establish the facts. Indeed, while we were learning (or rather purporting to be learning) some friends of ours from the B.Sc and BA courses had decided to riot and the boys in blue had been summoned.

To say that we departed swiftly would be a lie. We left as if army ants had gained access to our innerwear. Those of us unfamiliar with Chiromo should know that there are only four exits - two on University Way, one on Riverside Drive and one on Mamlaka road. The student hostels are located almost diametrically away from the Riverside Drive exit and it was to the halls that we fled (foolishly) for our attire and other effects. We found that we were the last to know of the outcome of events and our colleagues from other faculties, notably medicine were packing furiously. We joined in with gusto, cramming personal effects into small bags in record time. Teddy bears, sweet potatoes, radios and other such were swiftly folded and put in bags. Apprehensive about the whole affair I took the extra step of shedding jeans and t-shirt and converting myself into a business executive complete with tie. My luggage thankfully was at my castle so I had nothing to carry but a folder.

Finally, everything was ready and we made our way outside. At this point, a commission was formed to map the forward progress. Which exit should we use? Riverside Drive was an unpopular choice and was rejected. I remember the lad who had come with a two-plate burner complained bitterly that Riverside had even been suggested. Mamlaka and University way remained, and I voiced concerns about the cops making for Mamlaka first because that is the way everyone would head. Someone suggested we go and check out University Way and if it was safe, we leave Town by that way. Before consensus could be reached, the loud reports of gunfire were heard and smoke was observed to be rising behind us, towards Chiromo proper. It is said he who hesitates is lost, and at that point in time no one hesitated. At the first sound anything resembling chivalry, self-sacrifice and fellowship to fellow man went straight out the window. One group headed for Mamlaka and myself and the other made for University Way. Some seconds later we were peeking past the gate onto the road. It was empty. It was safe.

"Onward, Romans, onward!" I told my brethren. I took one step onto the hard tarmac and it was then we heard the engine of a lorry. I can tell you that the distinctive sound of the Isuzu lorries used by the boys in blue is not possible to replicate. There was one large one rounding the St. Paul's roundabout and in the back were several armed men, shooting in the air. I never established what it was they were firing, and in the heat of the moment one is unlikely to ask the nice men with the big guns if they are shooting real bullets or tear gas canisters.

Me, my boy Jeff and everyone else reacted as one. We wheeled around in unison, baggage and all and on winged feet sped like arrows. Omosh I remember was carrying his burner on his head and his huge bag on his back and was leaving a sonic boom behind him.

Three steps later I remembered that there was tear-gas in the direction of Chiromo, which meant it was very likely that some of the boys in blue were waiting for crania to alter forever with the aid of heavy clubs. Mamlaka too was out of the question, as it was more likely that the rest of the contingent was there; equally keen to see if the wood of a club has harder than the bone of a head. I made a U-turn and saw George do the same thing and we again made for the road. The plan was simple - allow the lorry to pass, cross the road, run down University Way towards the roundabout and cut through KBC and that way get into town. The reasoning was that the lorry would go on to Parklands.

Halfway down the road George and I saw that the lorry was not making a right at the roundabout and continuing to parklands. It was making a right, kept making a right, and kept making a right and finally came swiftly down the road towards us.

Read Part II!

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