An episode of malarkey

Throughout this semester, when I finish class, I take the transport bus provided by the college for students and staff. While I generally keep to myself on my 2-hour commute to and from work, I take this time to enjoy sitting and thinking quietly. But, if I notice a student whom is enrolled in one of my classes, I will take a moment to chit-chat with him/her about how their semester is going, etc.

Five months ago when I first signed my contract, the administration gave me the tip that it’s important for students to “like me” and for me to be “friends with my students.” I assumed that meant that I should be positive and sociable on-campus and nothing more.

Normally, my commutes are uneventful, but sometimes on a rare occasion a Kenyan will briefly socialize with me on the public buses. I am often the only foreigner on the 60-seater bus. I oblige, but always remain wary of my personal privacy with strangers.

This is my first job as a professor and I recognize several indisputable facts. I am young—one of the youngest on faculty (if not the youngest) and happen to be female. Secondly, I recognize that I am a foreigner. I don’t want any blurry miscommunication. On the infrequent occasion that a student emails or calls me, it is strictly focused on assignments or other classroom-related problems. Thirdly, from blind student feedback surveys, my pupils say that I am approachable, knowledgeable, but firm.

This particular evening, I sat next to a male Master’s of International Relations student from Rwanda. He began chatting with me as we left campus.  We coincidentally lived in the same area of town, so the conversation continued the full journey as we traveled to our final destinations. Just another simple conversation, I thought.

Then the following day he called me—followed by the next day, and then the next. Looking through my call and text log---he has attempted to communicate with me daily. Each day for the last two weeks – even on weekends. Morning and night.

His texts have requested that I meet with him so he could “take [me] out 4 a walk becose [he] saw tat [I] needed time out of work 2 referesh [my] mind.”

“Plz do not deny me this chance. Give m e a chance 2 prove how useful i can be,” he said.

I continued to ignore the texts. No reply. No interaction. Simply silence. After seven days of no communication, I assumed he’d get the message. Stop trying.

The following week he continued his daily calls and texts. The messages evolved. “i hv seen u on compus. Plz do not leave before we talk. “ 

The that evening he sends, “where did i go wrong? if i hurt u 4gv me plz!”

Again, I fail to provide any response. Maybe he will stop. This man is a pest… and his latest antics have made himself look purely ridiculous and delusional.

Finally, I sent a terse response: “I am faculty and take my job very seriously and do not socialize with students outside the academic environment. I hope that you understand and respect my position. Pleasant evening.”

Immediately he responded: “I happen to be a student at [college]. Understand me, i will do everything 2 protect ur reputation as long as ur in my life! Ur shame is my shame and I can do nothing 2 bring shame 2 miself. I shll do whtver is in my capabilities 2 protect and make u happy!”

Today, it’s been 48-hours since my lone text, only to awake to another message early this morning: “ur silency wll realy affect me negatively in mi mid-terms. bcose wht is happiness, joy, or success 4 me: if is not being with u? talk 2 me!”

Throughout a few conversations with my Kenyan and expat friends, I identified many things:

1)     Apparently, he missed my comment about having a “boyfriend” and wants to assiduously try his luck.

2)    
Not long ago, the lines of courtship were blurred. Oftentimes, women would say “no” but they really meant “yes.” A culture of dominance and persistence were acceptable and the chase was on.

3)     Unfortunately, life is nebulous and stereotypes persist. Word on the street is that: “Mzungus (swahilli for white person) = money.” I  cringe even to even mention that, but I’ve heard this all too common phrase, “Mzungu (white) women marry for love, their Kenyan lovers marry for prosperity.”

4)     A male Kenyan friend says I need to be more direct as he’s seen me in multiple social situations. He says I am too polite.

I attribute that to my upbringing. My courtesy has garnered me compliments. Clearly, I need to change my perspective and become more comfortable with a blunt, direct approach in circumstances like these.
 

5)     When is the soonest that the el-nino rains desist so that I can walk to the nearest Safaricom kiosk to get a quick tutorial on blocking numbers?

6)     Lastly, I hope I have not made my parents worry that a prospective stalker is lurking in the shadows.

Thankfully, he does not know my last name (to look me up on the university roster) or locate my living compound to randomly appear at my doorstep. 

When I showed one of my other male Kenyan friends his digital behavior, he also laughed at this man’s ridiculousness.

After he and I deliberated if silence was the best policy, He said that culturally, it would be a deep blow to his ego. Perhaps, in the future if we crossed paths on campus, he wouldn’t dare to even talk to me.

After all these shenanigans, that may be precisely what I want.