When Uni came Calling

By: Abiola Fashina

2
It was with anxiety I sniffed the redolence of a whole new experience as I walked through the gates of my new school. The struggles, the fear, the will to strive was all new. My hands trepidated with mixed feelings as I was scared to unlock this phase but it is what must be done for the future. “Go back “, a voiced bellowed above my shoulders, I turned in time in a dazed bewilderment to see a middle aged man in an army green khaki that has fought through the change of seasons. “…mm… Mi…me sir? ” I chocked under the suppressing will of my vocal cords. “You be new student? ” “Yessir”, the glint in his eyes wore down “dis your skirt too short, no wear am come next time o! ” I said “thank you sir” as he let me in.
I struck rule #1 :Avoid any form of harrassment on what you wear.  There was less difficulty in finding my way to the Faculty of Arts of which I am now a member of, I suppose. However, to my speechlessness, I was turned off with what stood before me, what passed for a faculty was only an amplified structure of a bungalow accommodating cubicles that could pass for shacks (I mean, these are supposed to be offices of respected person’s in the Federal Capital Territory!) compared to other institutions, it was way not encouraging. It confined me again tothe space where I had to weigh decisions contemplating if my choice was right. I fought whatever intimidating conclusions I had about the faculty and the school in general as registration must be done. You could guess no rule was struck but later on, I stamped rule #2: Never judge a book by its cover!.
Rule #2 seems ubiquitous, though I you say that’s true but trust me, this was out into practice.
  The atmosphere was a hive of registration as students buzzed in and out of offices, we had to queue in and the process was tiring, it seemed undending, I was famished and at the same time longed for bed rest. However, I dared not move out of such a queue, my existence on the queue would be erased out of memory and that would mean being the “no number candidate” on the line.  “I’m tired, let them be fast withe the exercise naaaw ” the slim lady behind me grumbled. Holy rosary! I thought no one was ever going to complain. She was light skinned, she had the slenderness of the beauties from the Full region, her Caucasian nose could set her on the world stage, she had robust hips that swayed in tune with her small waist though she struggled to to keep the jingles with arithmetized steps. She was such simpatico! We got talking, her name :Rasheedat.  She remained my friend and course mate (learnt she had to change department). There was no room for rule activation, nevertheless, I made friends with more fair-beauties but I realized I had to Rule
#3: Make friends with the smart ones. Registration was completed after 4 hours await. I did not have it easy though, I had to muffle my not-so-big self in between voracious voices and bodies that were eager to knock off my doggedness. It was a not so pleasant struggle, I sustained mild bruises, little did I know that more would be sustained, I was determined to Rule #4: Fight that fight; it could be GOOD or BAD but do not stop FIGHTING.
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