Money equals power, and power corrupts absolutely. In my campus, and virtually almost all public universities, money has been known to rip the bonds of friendships asunder. This past week, a scuffle ensued in my campus over some money that was allegedly availed for students consumption. Rumour had it that the student leader who was entrusted with such money had kept it for himself. That is no surprise, but unfortunate nonetheless. In the midst of fiery exchanges, a friend of mine (Sir Chess) shoved another dude, sending him licking dust. The said victim’s comrades-in-arms brandished whips and other weapons of human annihilation and charged against Sir Chess.
I am an elected student leader, and with that comes certain expectations. Like for one, I am expected to mind my language in public, wear suits even on weekends, and steer clear from mindless brawls. I am not complaining, I knew what I signed up for the moment I placed my name on the ballot. But here is the thing most students do not seem to understand; I was a friend to many people before I was a student leader. I have responsibilities towards my friends too. And in case there will ever be a conflict between these responsibilities, equity and logic demands that the first in time prevails.
I have a personality duel inside me between the goon and the gentleman in me, that makes me flip my alter egos like channels. It all depends on which chords you strike. So I joined the fight- unleashed my own weapon of human annihilation (a cue stick) and stood in defence of a brother- a comrade. In any case, Chess is not the student leader who is said to have made away with the money, hence no attack against his person was justified. His attacker was also drunk and in his inebriated stupor, he could not control his senses. And being the commander of a platoon of goons in my campus, the assailant had the backing of his troupes.
The engagement ended in a brief brawl in which a statement was made- that a bunch of drunkards cannot be allowed to terrorize campus nights at will. We do not live here at their whims or mercies. For like half an hour, Parklands Campus stole the thunder from Syria. The following day, it was reported that no such money had been released, and that the petty whispers had been conjured from a misunderstanding and spread using idle talk. So question was, what were they fighting for? I might have believed in this uprising if just one person could prove to me that he knew what he was carrying a whip for.
Later on, a spectator of that nights spectacle came up to me and told me straight to my face that I do not deserve to be a student leader. That my conduct that night was unbecoming of a leader. In his wisdom, I ought to step down.
In sooth, if I had folded my arms, Sir Chess would be nursing life threatening wounds. I fought for two causes worth bleeding for- friendship and amity. Causes we shouldn’t be scared to die for. I live in search of a revolution worth my life. Give me a rallying call, give me one good reason to bleed, and I shall gladly do it.