It was already after three o’clock and the tired day had started to fold up. We still had a game park journey to do where we would happily pitch a tent for another two nights. Students who were not versed with the route from the town marveled at the flower farms that riddled the surroundings of the lake and the Delamare crop estates. Small flocks of lesser flamingos could be seen on the eastern shallows of the only lake. Lodges and camps that seemed to catch the scenic view of the lake and its mountainous shores stood with roofs of dead palm leaves and heaped grass completely matching the foreground.

The prickly pear cactus that I had learnt about its origin from my grandfather on my first trip on that road displayed purple and yellow fruits. I waited for an opportunity to avail itself so that I could enthusiastically explain to everyone the story behind the existence of the cactus. The opportunity did come when a female alerted her seat-mate to the plant, pointing it out to him as a kind of euphobia.

“Where is the euphorbia plant?” I interjected gently, even though my mind was compelling me to interject aloud to attract more attention than just the three of us.

“See that thick -leafed plant running on both sides of the road with spikes on it? That’s the one”, shouted the girl in her early twenties.

"It's cool", her seat mate acknowledged, eyes set on it like she wanted it in her bag right now.

“No!” I reacted calmly with a low tone as if I had been here dozens of times, uncontrollably glad in my heart that I'll now show off what roadside floral lessons my grandfather put in my brain once upon a time when we rode across this land on my maiden voyage to the city -a once in a blue moon trip for him and grandmother. I trust the knowledge of my grandfather like I trust an infant's innocence. “It’s a prickly pear!" I announced. Of course, my grandfather hadn't called it by that English name since he was best with names from our tribe. "It was planted by a mzungu who owned this part of the land during the colonial period", I continued with more vehemence in my voice as more passengers took interest in the subject of the plant that a few minutes later was no longer in view, but drums about it still beat inside our speeding mini bus. My steam ended there -nothing of my fault, I realised that I actually didn't have more material to say about this type of cactus than to say its name and where it was said by grandfather it came from. Little did I know that, despite some students not having an idea of wild plants' names, there were those who had already mastered them, not only by common and scientific names, but also the details like whether certain plants were indigenous or exotic, their significance to the ecosystem and the economic or social importance to man and animal -because it turns out some among us had been safari guides before or teachers or some sort of jobs that require the general knowledge and they had just came to college for formal training because they hadn't been to any, or just came to sharpen their wits about the inseparable disciplines of nature and tourism. Little wonder some of them seemed to have seen better days.

It didn't embarrass me that I contributed the least to plant topics compared to those handful experienced fellows. Rather, I fancied the fact that my attempt to enlighten my comrades about prickly pear, after someone had attempted to mislead another with the wrong name of that plant, opened an avenue for even more insightful discussions about plants that I actually enjoyed listening to. They particularly spoke fondly of the sweet fruits of prickly pear, its medicinal value including how it can tackle alcohol related hangovers once and for all until another day, and asserted how it could survive a light fire or a storm and live to see another thousand years. Although the discussion ended better than it started, discouraging to note was the fact that it wasn't quite a happy ending for me -not when the subject you expected to take control of is hijacked and given an extreme makeover by someone else who goes ahead to own it just because he knew better.