The sky is dark, almost black even. The wind that is blowing sef no be here. Outside my room, it’s raining cats and dinosaurs. I just saw someone’s 2015 BMW get carried away by the wind and I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. There are far more important matters at stake right now. For one, this Beans has been on the fire for almost 3 hours. 3 bloody hours? Kilode? I do not even understand it. We’ve changed hot plate twice, the second time one of my many room mates was almost electrocuted (I’ll still eat the Beans though, just saying).
Tears are building up in my eyes but, I refuse to acknowledge them. A live band is performing in my stomach, I’m almost scared that these boys will hear the “music” and start to sing along. I can feel the hunger deep in my soul, and this is all because I agreed to ‘group cooking’ o *sigh*
My vision is getting blurred, my muscles and joints are refusing to obey my instructions, the live band is reaching its crescendo. I think I’m shutting down. My life begins to pass before my eyes but, I’m so hungry that even the video looks pirated. So, this is how I go down? I had always thought I’d die eating and laughing or better still, on top of a beautiful wo….never mind (I’m trying to get into heaven here O:) )
As I begin to descend into the inky blackness, in the fading light I hear Basky utter those 3 magical words that reaffirm my faith in humanity and snatch me back from the abyss. “Beans don done”. There is hope, I can feel it.
After escaping certain death in the morning, I have adopted a new and positive outlook on life. I have also decided to (try) to be more friendly, more approachable and less vain (the words of my very sexy female shrink, not mine). In keeping with this, I have decided to stay indoors tonight and support one of my room mates who is contesting in the Mr Jaja Pageant:D I haven’t been actively involved in this whole “Hall Week” business, so today’s my chance to make up. Plus, I’ve already counted like one million billion females downstairs, so it’s a win-win situation;)
As things are getting warmed up, I see some guys placing money on the pageant. *sigh* Nigerians will bet on anything. I’m almost tempted to get involved, but I think better of it. I mean, my room mate is quite fine and all (no homo please:| ) but I really don’t think he’s ‘superstar fine’, you get?
Anyway, the show is going on and the contestants are strutting their stuff. I’ve been engaged in a very animated conversation with this very beautiful female for the last hour. We’ve navigated though various difficulties together. Difficulties like the very loud and obscene music (noise) being played by the DJ that’s inhibiting us from hearing each other properly, and the several “kongi filled gentlemen of King Jaja Hall” ogling her and almost salivating.
The contestants are dressed to the nine’s in their dinner jackets (one of them looks like a midget waiter), standing in a line on stage and awaiting the decision of the judges while some very terrible upcoming artistes attempt to entertain the crowd LOL! These ones will remain upcoming for ever. My room mate is sweating under the bright, hot lights and doing his best to smile. I really do feel sorry for him. This whole thing started from whining o.
Just as the verdict on paper is passed to the leading judge to announce, I catch a glimpse of a very familiar figure walking towards me and the damsel by my side. As she reaches us, I suddenly feel sick. Lo and behold, it’s my ex and we really didn’t part on the best of terms (she actually threatened to stab me if she ever saw me again), as it turns out, she’s also the damsel’s roomie and buxom friend.
My ex has one of these “God don catch you” looks on her face as the damsel attempts to introduce us. The chief judge is reading out the verdict. “And the 2nd runner up is contestant number…”
My room mate and I, two different boys whose hopes and dreams were destroyed on the same day, at the same time.
The Law Library is cold and deathly quiet. The lady in front of me is shuffling in her seat. Her hair pin falls and I can actually hear it bouncing away. Talk about pin drop silence.
One guy at the other end is sleeping very casually, unbothered. This should be the 6th or 9th time I’m seeing this same guy, in that same chair, wearing the same clothes and sleeping in the same position. I make a mental note to talk to the librarian about all those foldable beds (squatter beds for all ye sabi boys:> ) then I remember that it’s not even my business. May the sleepers sleep.
This place is gradually filling up. Exams are approaching fast and this is where we come to seek solace. A classmate of mine has managed to procure 7 different textbooks on the same Law of Contract. I begin to wonder if there’s a grade higher than ‘A’. I consider making her my new friend but then it occurs to me that she’s not fine today and neither will she be fine tomorrow. Why will you be smart like that and not be fine? Why? I shake my head as I say a brief prayer for her physical condition.
I sense something is amiss behind me and I turn around. A male and female are in a heated argument. Very intense something. I turn my chair fully to face them. Finally, some fun:D It seems the argument is about the chair the guy is sitting on. Apparently, the babe was there first, when out to briefly eat and the boy bounced her and her books.
The fracas is getting out of hand, the girl almost seems ready to engage him in ‘Mortal Kombat’. Some people are rushing out to get popcorn and drinks. I jejely shift my chair back before blood will nw goan splash on my designer white shirt.
As the events of the day are reaching their peak, I see the librarian hurriedly walking over. And then, BANG!!! My ears hurt all of a sudden, it’s like there’s a siren in them. I hold my head and turn back around to see who slapped me, but there’s no one behind me. Like 3 other people beside me are also holding their ears. Confusion.
In front of me, the argument seems to have ended. Peacefully? How? The guy is nowhere to be seen. I rise and look again. The boy is casually lying on the floor and the girl is standing triumphantly over him. The librarian has a look of wonder and shock on his face. Only then does it occur to me what has happened. And the laughter begins.
2015. The rise of the Feminists.
Great Opara is…well, he’s Great, he likes to see himself as a peculiar, “tribeless” Nigerian. His hobbies include but are not limited to writing, eating, staring at his image in the mirror and talking to pretty females. Blessed with the gift of satire, this antisocial, introverted, unsung hero plans to use fiction to change the world. You can follow him on Twitter: @monsieur_ace
Published by Teni Akeju