INTERLUDE
– THE BLOGPOST THAT WAS NEVER PUBLISHED THANKS TO ‘VICTIMISM’
So
this is a blogpost I wrote about Bwari a few weeks into law school that never
got to see the light of day thanks to other posts being snitched by an
imbecilic dunce to our tutors. We were informed that if any other post was
published then the writer would be made a ‘victim.’ Victim oh, not even scapegoat.
Scary, hunh? Anyhoo, done with NLS now so I can write and publish away to my
heart’s content *insert evil cackle*
Enjoy
xx
BWARI TALES
Heels and Foneh are
imperative…the manual I never received.
The beautiful
sandy roads. The shacks masquerading as restaurants. The insects that we all
thought were extinct. All these make Nigerian Law School, Bwari what it is.
Torture. But you know what causes me more pain, heartache and depression? The
female students.
From the
first day of registration, what did I not see? Heels – check, false eyelashes –
check, tighter than rubber band skirts – double check, Brazilian, Peruvian,
Sleek and possibly Expression weaves scraping rounded bottoms – check check
check! My eyes were on stalks.
If it were
just these, they might have been manageable… ‘might’ being the operative word.
But no, even the mature students were trying out for ANTM. Gold eyeshadows
covering pencilled eyebrows, matching gold single plaits, funky black platforms…ugh
my fingers are itching to scratch my eyes out!
I’m surprised
I don’t have a mini complex. Louboutins, Choos, Non-existent label but
sky-scrapping Gaga-esque shoes…all fighting for dominance. I could have sworn
the school website said something about wearing only kitten heels if heels had
to be worn at all! Or maybe I was deceived by evil ex-students.
And the hair;
although there were some nice weaves being whipped back and forth ala Willow
Smith, there were also some Sleek weaves that should have been, in the words of
our marshals, guided and guided very well. These weaves were of the nature that
if rain fell, they would be stuck in one position and not shift an inch. Bloody
highly flammable mops. And the girls who were in possession of such monstrosities
probably thought no one could tell the difference. Ha!
Don’t get me
wrong, I’m not a bitter soul who wishes I could wear the same but really, it
was too funny. I remember the first week having lunch at the ‘dinning’ (as we
call the dining room thanks to its dubious spelling). Four girls walked or
rather, strutted into the dinning to get some food (well clearly). Jehovah
Nissi! Victoria Beckham ain’t got shit on these ladies. I’m surprised not a
single one of them didn’t fall flat on their faces. Although, one of them might
have been saved by the millipedes on her eyelashes. Those lashes are being
coveted by Pete Burns somewhere.
Even to La
Liga, the beer parlour; Beer parlour oh where okada drivers and alomo drinking
old men chill, I saw a girl with a Loub clutch! I mean, COME ON! Another girl,
probably tired of moaning and singing herself to sleep in a jealous fit, wore
her Sunday school heels there. And what was yours truly wearing, a dress she
rocks to bed as well *sigh*. I repeat, why didn’t I get the memo?
And if this
was not enough, the foneh! Oh heavenly Jehoshaphat! Some with British accents,
some with American, some with a mixture, and many with Hank Anuku accents.
If an ‘R’ is
not included in every word, then you did not school in ‘jand’ or ‘yankee’. If
you don’t speak an octave higher when addressing the lecturer then gaddamn you
didn’t even smell Murtala Mohammed airport, you liar!
I was queuing
for the key to my room and I heard the hottest ‘innit’ accent that born and
bred Peckhamites wish they had being spoken behind me. At first, I couldn’t be
arsed to turn around to see who it was but by the time I heard some conk
h-factor thrown into the mix I turned so fast I’m surprised I didn’t get
whiplash. What did my eyes encounter? A girl in full hijab that’s who!
Now,
don’t get me wrong there’s nothing wrong with being wrapped up and speaking in
a somewhat iffy British accent but come on, even You would have been astonished
at the sight.
I saw the
same girl at the bank the next day really ‘rough necking’ to the banker saying
‘I’m not ‘aving it. I can’t put 10grand in the bank when I ain’t got that kina
money ‘ere’.’ And no, it was not cockney foneh. It was h-factor foneh. Of
course I wasn’t surprised to hear her mumble ‘London Met’ the next day when
everyone was saying what uni they went to. Figured.
It’s been
three or even four weeks now since I got into this ‘fit and proper school’ so I
guess I’m used to it all. Heck, my earrings even got seized. No this has
nothing to do with this post but I had to ‘chook’ it in cuz I’m still a bit
upset about them *scowl*.
Anyhoooooo,
I’m on a one week break now so going back to hunting for Another proper meal. I
don’t even care if I get fat right now; it feels so good to eat home-cooked
food. J
*bisous mes amis*
