REGISTRATION
AND FIRST DAY IN SCHOOL. THIS AIN’T OXILP, DEFINITELY.
Ugh, ugh, ugh. More ugh. I should so not have gone
out the night before registration. First night out on the lash (okay, second
but this seemed like the first) and I had not gotten home till about oooh,
5.30am? Yeah, right about that time. And I had to get up by 6:30am.
Yes. 1 hour sleep before registration.
The headache, sleep-deprivation and general
irritation reminded me of the fact that I was not the youngster back in
university. I was a grown-arse 24 year old who would definitely GET hungover
after imbibing. This was my punishment.
I brushed my teeth sleepily and threw some water on
my face. This obviously didn’t clear the makeup from last night away but I was
too exhausted to care. I dragged on khaki trousers and a black t-shirt, tried
to pack my long chunky braids in a semblance of neatness and called the gateman
to carry my suitcases to the waiting cab.
As we drove through the city, I nodded off and on –
till we got to the proper village. The fear of the journey kept my eyes more
alert than 5 cans of red bull guzzled in rapid succession. The roads filled
with pot-holes – it was like grinding pepper locally. And the epic landmark
‘Pinky and the Brain Primary School.’
Yes, you read correctly. Don’t wipe your glasses or
screen.
And the bendy roads. Now you see a hill, now you
don’t. Now you see a car or truck hurtling towards you without any care in the
world, now you don’t. I swore to myself that I would never go through these
roads at night (in Bar 2, I even
convinced my mate to do a night road trip. I’d become so used to it, sigh).
Anyhoo, we got there and my sister’s mate
transferred my suitcases to his car so I could send the cabbie away. I’d
already spent a fortune. Be aware that at this point, most of the cabbies were
using us to do foundation for their houses. What did we know? We were told
prices and we’d probably take a hundred naira out smugly feeling like we could
negotiate. Little did we know that we should have been cutting them by
thousands. (Some poor chap was charged
$100 from the airport to Bwari and he thought it was a fair price. Poor sod).
The first thing I asked my sister’s mate for was
water. Not his name; water. I was parched. And hungover as hell. I think I fell
in love with my sunnies that morning. Now that I think about it, I want to be
buried wearing those sunnies. He laughed and went off to get me 2 massive
bottles. I drained half of one in a go. It made me feel sick albeit better, if
that makes sense. We went off to the admission office (you need to see this
‘office’) and saw some people milling around cluelessly.
We were all clueless. The great Nigerian Law School
did not deign to inform us about any procedure. They did not even have a
standard procedure. As I ranted inwardly, I spotted a sight for sore eyes.
There was a woman stood next to a clueless friend of mine. This woman was
Decked Out.
Black fedora, check. Black waistcoat, check. Black
bootcut trozeez, check. Walking Stick, CHECK! Baddest of beeches.
All I could think was, these mature students meant
business…and glance sorrowfully at my plain outfit. Little did I know that she
would end up being one of my closest law school chum’s mummy. Not a student, a
mummy. Height of yummy mummyhood, no?
Anyway, I digress. Soon a student took it upon
himself to pass a sheet of paper round telling us to write our names down and
queue up. Then we heard ‘make ya way to
the new library’. Of course this was
easy to spot seeing that we knew where the old library was. I mean, we had been
students for all of…oh yeah, NEVER!
Wherever the crowd went, I went. I ended up queuing
next to some girls all dressed up like they were going to Whiskey Mist straight
after registration. I snickered to myself. Heels in the mud? Good luck,
girlies.
We got into the hall and then I discovered the true
definition of the phrase ‘power trip.’:
You’re on the right queue? You’ll be yelled at for
not sitting properly.
You mumbled ‘good
morning’ instead of saying it assertively? Are you a mad man, how dare you?
You say ‘good
morning’ assertively and the next thing is ‘who is ya father? I don’t care who you are here oh’.
Do you have the receipt for your fees? Yes. Oh and
you think this makes you wise? You’re very stupid!
Why don’t you have the teller? Oh you have it? Then
you’re a foolish somebody!
You don’t have the photocopy? Where do you think you
are? It’s not my time you are wasting oh! You won’t get room in this campus.
Toh.
Very confused lot.
I sat nursing my headache carefully and called my
mummy. Yes, I’m not ashamed to say I didn’t go through the correct sufferhead route. My ish was sorted
rapidly, I got my room and the roommate I wanted, did the whole medical crap
and bbm’d my daddy smugly as I floated to my assigned room. Upstairs! No ground
floor for me, haha.
Then I fell back down to earth.
The sight of the room before me; Jumping Jehoshaphat.
I could not even sit down on the bed. I bbm’d my mate and roomie, Arese telling
her to come quickly. When she came, I nearly wept with joy at the sight of her
mother and aunt behind her. They left to get drums and buckets as I already had
mops, brooms, dustpans, etc. Oh yes, we need to bring our own cleaning
equipment and beddings and kettles and every darn thing. Law School gives us
the room and bed and we should be grateful for that.
My evil roomie came back with all the necessary
stuff, dropped them on her bed and waved at me with a cheery, ‘I’m off to town
for dinner with my mum. Will be back tomorrow, do you want anything?’
I stared at her in shock and dismay. She was leaving
me alone in this dump? By my damn lonesome? All I could do was sulk as she
asked if I wanted anything from town. Like I even knew what I wanted? It was my
first time in the damn city!
I made my bed wearily and sat on it staring for
hours. Then I thought, hey I should bbm another friend I’d just met in person
after loads of conversations on twitter and see what he was up to.
‘I’m at my friend’s flat outside campus oh. I don’t
think I’ll be back tonight even.’
Chimo! See depression. I hadn’t eaten anything all
day, I couldn’t even think of what to eat or where to get food from and now I
was stuck on my bed alone in this damn clusterfuck of bricked huts.
Luckily, my sister’s mate called and asked if I
wanted anything. I was sorely tempted to say no seeing as he had his final
exams in a few weeks and he should be studying but my tummy growled like an
angry feline. I meekly replied that I was hungry. He took me to ‘Seun’s Place’ (I forget the real name; also this became
the spot for shawarmas, meat pies, doughnuts and ‘egg puff’). I got a large
chicken shawarma and said I’d eat it in the car cuz of the ac. There was no
light and the gen was not on – at 7pm.
After about 3 bites and 1 surreptitious spit into a
paper towel thanks to bones and quite possibly, shaki, I gave up on the torture
and deprivation wrapped in grilled angry pitta bread. I bid him farewell and
good luck, trudged to my room, called my dad to lament and whine then cried
myself to sleep.
Oh what a fun day.
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