I had been in the University long enough to know stuff...I could be innocent but was no longer naïve. I had lived with Deola for a while to know what she was into.
I was in my 2nd year and she in her 3rd. And although I had never seen her do anything; I had eavesdropped, a couple of times, when she was on the phone and nothing else could account for the kind of expensive life she was living.
Did it ever cross my mind to leave and move back to the
hostel? Yes, but I just couldn’t…because I was a beneficiary of the largesse.
Even my folks at home benefited from it, because I hardly asked them for
anything…there was even a time I sent some money to my mum through my sister
and it was Deola that gave me the money.
During
our second semester break, I knew what Deola gave me when it was time to return
home. Clothes, shoes, even things for my folks…it was as if I returned from a
journey abroad.
Another
thing that I couldn’t ignore was the fact that she was the only true friend I
ever had. I didn’t even deserve to be her friend when she reached out to me. I
decided to keep it on a “don’t ask, don’t tell” arrangement.
One thing I did to repay her and also as a good friend,
was made sure she studied when it was time for tests and exams; and she really
appreciated that. I would insist there was no traveling that weekend and we
would stay indoors and study together. She once made a joke over the phone that
she could not travel because her “guardian” had placed a ban on it and she had
to comply.
When our first semester results were released, I
noticed that I had scored 39% in one of my courses. That was preposterous
because I was the first to submit my answer sheet when we took the exam. I knew
the course, I understood the concepts, I even taught Deola who had failed it
when she was in 200 level and she passed it this time.
I was devastated and couldn’t help but cry. I cried
because I knew what was happening. The lecturer, Mr. Sesan, had tried to play
some funny games with me a couple of times, he once made some dirty comment
(when I went to submit an assignment he had given us) about the top I was wearing
and how it accentuated my breasts, but I quickly shut it down. I wasn’t rude
but I was assertive…I knew my academic capacity and knew I would pass the
course in a way that he couldn’t do anything about it.
Deola felt my pain and said we should go talk to him…I
didn’t want to, I totally wanted to report this to the school authority and
have my answers reevaluated.
Then Deola told me the story of a girl that did
what I was planning and although she ended up getting a better grade in the
course, she was frustrated into leaving the school…it was as if most of her
lecturers ganged up against her and made her life miserable.
I asked why Deola didn’t do the same thing when she
failed the course in her 2nd year; she made me realize that our
cases were different. She did not pass the course; she also missed the 30-mark
test. However, she tried to talk to the former lecturer of the course but he was a born again Christian and was not interested in anything she had to say.
So we went to Mr. Sesan, and at first he pretended like
he had no clue what I was talking about…but when Deola told him we didn’t
come to fight but to discuss with him as our “elder brother” and that we were
at his mercy, he soft-pedalled and blamed me for what happened.
He said I was
rude to him and he was only trying to be funny. I apologized profusely (Deola
made me) and begged him to help me fix things. He then demanded that I either “played
along or paid to get along”.
I told him I was not that kind of girl and how I was
from a poor family…he quickly interjected that he had seen me on campus many
times and knew how I dressed and I should spare him the “poor girl from poor
background” story.
“Leave story jare...how many poor
girls carry Chanel bags?” He asked while pointing at the purse I was
carrying
To God who made me, I didn’t know how expensive the bag
was, it was a “borrow-pose”…it was Deola’s.
He said to fix it, he would collect ten thousand Naira because he
would have to go explain to the Dean why my score changed. I didn’t have the
money and I didn’t want Deola to have to pay it for me. I tried to negotiate
but Mr. Sesan insisted on that amount.
As we were about to leave, he warned me that the longer I
took, the more expensive it was going to get and if I took too long, he
wouldn’t be able to do anything about it again.
I was more angry than sad when we left his office…
“Why should I
have to pay to get what I earned?
See why I hate men?
They are all the same
Users,
opportunists, mean cold-blooded bastards”
I went on and on as I poured out my anger. Deola didn’t say anything until we got to our room…she later promised to help me raise some money so we could get it to Mr. Sesan as soon as possible.
I couldn’t let her do that; I told her I would try to
get the money.
In my mind, I had planned how much I was going to get
from each of my working siblings and since I had not really bothered them for
money in a while, they should be able to raise the money for me or at least
most of it. I was going to tell them it was for a school project.
So I called Sister Grace that same day to kind of
prepare her mind and get her to talk to my brothers for me. She wasn’t
responding well and I had to ask what was happening. She said all was well but I
could sense from her voice that something was wrong. She then told me she had
to go and would call me later. At this time I already had one of Deola’s old
phones...she gave it to me when she bought a flip phone.
Because of the way Sister Grace was responding, I didn’t
even get to tell her what I called about…I waited for her call that evening but
she didn’t call. I started to “flash” her from my phone to remind her but she
did not call back.
I did not have enough credit on my phone to make the
call…Deola gave me her phone and I called my sister but she still did not pick
up. I tried my brother’s line but it was switched off. My mum did not have a
phone at that time…she saw it as a money drainer.
I was mad at my sister for not returning my call as
promised and for ignoring, when I even attempted to call her. In my mind, they
had gotten used to me not regularly demanding anything from them and they were
taking me for granted. I decided to travel home and give them a piece of my mind…I told Deola I would visit my folks the following day.
As I was preparing to leave the next morning, my phone
rang and it was my sister. I quickly picked it and before I could say anything,
I heard
“It’s Mama o…”
followed by a lot of static
“Which Mama?
What happened to
her?
What’s happening?
Hellooooo”
I bombarded her with questions but she did not respond.
I looked at the phone and it had disconnected.
Even Deola was concerned at this point, she gave me her
phone and I called my sister back but her phone was switched off.
“How could her
phone be switched off? She just called me now” I screamed at the phone as
if it could hear me
“Well, it could
be the battery or maybe the phone wasn’t fully charged” said Deola, as she
tried to find a rationale behind what happened so I could calm down.
She later decided to travel with me because I still
couldn’t get through to either my sister or brother. We took Deola’s car…it was about an hour and
half to our house.
As we pulled into our street, I saw my sister running
toward the house…Deola honked and she looked back, tears all over her face. It
took a while before she knew it was us. I jumped out of the car and ran to her.
I didn’t want to piece things together to form a conclusion.
“What happened
to Mama?” I asked. I was scared to my very core and was hoping she wouldn’t
answer the question...
© 2017 Lanre Olagbaju All Rights Reserved
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