Tomorrow was yesterday and that yesterday was called matriculation day which was 5 days ago; a day the queen of another was stripped of her crown and pride.
It was bright but busy day as the sun smiled on the earth as the son of men carried on their various activities as assigned to them by nature or fate (either which one). This day was unusual as I had to clear some tasks (even if it meant shuffling between class and my office) set before me by virtue of my office. I therefore channeled all my resources and energy towards completing the tasks to avoid any form of procrastination.
Pheeew! I had been sapped of my energy and I needed to rest, listen to good music and thereafter eat. As I lay on my bed I remembered I have not written any article for the next publication and inspiration was not forthcoming. The resultant effect is that, I could be disclaimed because the Editor has no chill and writing articles was part of what I signed for.
I crawled out of my little coven called bedspace, meandered my way through some gigantic structures that I could not easily identify because there was no light and lo, I found myself rummaging faces and environments in search of what I myself don’t know up till this moment. What would be the topic of my article? I ruminated. Suddenly, a Facebok post popped up and I saw the picture of a friend in matric gown and then I decided to shift focus to female halls of residence maybe in my “nosing for news, I would smell one” and to be rest assured that my olfactory nerve of news has been activated.
As I got to a particular female hostel known for accommodating “tush” girls, I saw students in groups of twos and threes while some others were waiting for their “soul-mates” who might have kept them waiting in the name of looking nice and acceptable. Then my gaze shifted to some set of four guys probably because of the way and manner they laughing and shaking hands and giving a particular the “thumbs up” sign to the extent they never knew they were blocking the walkway. What could they be discussing that has taken all of their attention and that has made them never even took care to look at ladies who through their beauty, fragrance or backside should have disrupted their conversation? What could be their mission in a female hostel be aside ladies? Ladies that have failed to gain their attention?
I could win a medal if I could unravel their mysteries as a journalist and to let the University community be aware of their sinister motives. Hope they are not planning to rape again because a failed rape incidence was just reported some few days ago?
I furtively moved closer to them keeping so I can hear them clearly. I was inquisitive; I wanted to know what I don’t know that they know. They never cared to be observant. They were already carried away in their conversation as I pretended to be chatting on my phone all along. Then I heard a dark tall guy saying in pidgin
“Na #200 ice-cream I buy for the girl o and I gain direct entry”. They laughed again and another guy with curly hair I think he had made to celebrate the matriculation ceremony interjected saying:
“I no believe you jare. You too get sweet mouth abi no be that girl wey una dey take pix together for ICC?
The tall guy laughed again and said “I swear” putting his hands in his mouth. “If you think say na lie, make I call my guy wey get the room make him confirm am”. He continued by saying “me self no know say the girl na virgin because we just got know ourselves two days ago until this afternoon”.
“In fact, that time wey you dey call me for phone sey make we go GQ” pointing to one of the guys “na my side she dey dat time”. They burst out laughing again.
Then another guy who has refused to comment all the time I was observing chipped and said “ So na Ice-Cream wey you order for am make am give you her body?”
The tall guy quickly chipped in by saying “Photoshoot and call card too”
Then another guy said “shey no be say the girl dey prove hard to get like this because she don dey delay us now since.”
The tall guy replied that scornfully that “ Hard to get for who? Maybe for una sha because, I don enter that place and I don come out so, wetin she want dey use do shakara for me again.”
I wanted to listen further to the conversation but my phone rang and then they turned and discovered that I was very close to them and that I might have been listening to their conversations and immediately, they changed topic. At that point, I knew there was no need to wait any longer if I do not want to break my cover. As I walked back to my hostel, I was pained and I felt pity for the lady that has become the object of ridicule and topic of discussion among friends.
She had lost her inner beauty, her pride and her respect and the inner me pitied her not because she lost her virginity but because of the way and manner she lost it. The guy’s loss was not commensurate with what the girl had lost. He had added her to his body counts just like that and without any sweat. I thought to myself she might be one of those beautiful young, elegant and intelligent girls who out of ignorance had fallen prey to those usual guys just because, they gained admission and want to enjoy their life to the fullest- howbeit, in an unseemingly improper and uncultured manner that is against the home training associated with a typical African child; nay Nigeria.
Read not for fun; not to see the girl in question as being unwise or foolish because, your own test might not come in a similar manner but in a different way that could also strip you of your beauty, pride and ego. Once you become an object of ridicule as a lady, your goods will automatically lose its worth and become priceless and if you must lose your goods to a guy (if you think it is worth it) then, I guess it should not be one he would cheaply talk about. A word of advice sha.