​10th Feb, 2017


My diary, ‘preamble’ in absentia is just a tale from my experience last year when I was once fresh like you although I am now a fresh-stale student. One thing you’ve got to learn about M.I Spy is that he is an adventurer who navigates the sea with his elusive knowledge of geography in discovering new places. 

Check the oars, mast healthy? Let’s sail… 


Settling down in this citadel of learning is not an easy job, trust me! But give it to the school management, it has helped in its best way to crack the most crucial nut, the valid assurance (now fulfilled) of a roof to hid your head from the scorching sun and storming rain, bury your ass in the dreamland at a time when the keys of the kingdom resides with the moon and a “safe place” to drop your pre-marriage loads.


 Yea! I had to quote that “safe place” because it’s not safe until you are wholly out of the university. Let me share with you an experience I had in my first year as a UIte. Two days before the scheduled matriculation day, I decided to form ‘fancy’ and wash not-so-dirty, dope footwear in anticipation of a memorable matriculation day. I left them in the closet (where guys brush their teeth) next to my room to sun dry. I checked around 11pm to be sure it is dry enough to be taken inside but the weather was against me and so I went in to sleep peacefully hoping it would be dry by morning. Fast forward to 6am, I returned to meet the traces of my foot wears intact, the patterns the footwear made on the board of the closet were very clear but the footwear itself was missing. 

My footwear were raptured by a marauding nightwalker who chose that very night to inspect the floors and felt the need to give a careless owner an early welcome into the system. Mind you, the footwear, were new ones I had only worn on probably five occasions altogether. I later got to discover, in a self discovery 3D movie that some animals like the owl do not sleep at night as veeeeery important must-do job with benefits awaits them. You want to know if I filed a report? I did. Welcome to the hall was the conclusive answer from everyone who had my sorry tale.

Thinking my misery was isolated, my friend in Lord Tedder hall recounted his own KJV version of the UI bible. He had washed two jeans and 3 pieces of shirt, rinsed and spread on lines in the public to sun dry but you know what? Someone, a cute big boy, stale since the days of Aristotle who had a date with a new catch and needs to impress the beautiful but gullible fresh fishes found the clothes attractive. And like the 
kleptomaniac god worshipped in his ancestry had bequeathed on him, he singlehandedly hacked to death the twin of “caution and conscience” and perfectly selected the two jeans and the silky shirt of foreign purple fabrics dorn by kings in the days of Constantine of Rome, leaving just two shirts of the 5 total clothes my innocent friend had painstakingly washed, rinsed and sundried.

Don’t blame me if I make a superstitiously true guess that the theft gamer had been spying on my friend for a while. He probably admired the cotton from distance but lack the purchasing prowess to claim it legally unless a dollar equates a naira which of course would only happen if and only if Buhari becomes the next America president after Donald Trump. My friend’s wardrobe was only robbed of its best but not of its value as the stolen ones were replaced the next day.

And what was my fate following the theft assault on my personality? And did I matriculate bearing in mind official wears alone remained the acceptable outfit? Well, as God would pity my blockhead, the matriculation could not hold as scheduled as the orientation program NASU disrupted the ceremony. I mobilised few friends to do a room to room search for my lost sheep as the Lord Jesus had advised. Not too long amidst the search did reality dawn on me that it was a fruitless enterprise as the desert can germinate nothing but sand and that the Holy Klepto had only borrowed it till when it becomes useless and then discard it for me to find. Many stories were concocted to explain the incidence and a neighbour even claimed it was borrowed for a Sunday service and would eventually be returned. A year has passed and I still hold on to the hope that the dainty Klepto will repent and return the would-now-be battered footwear to me.

I mount the pulpit here to sermonize…

“RECTE SAPERE FONS”, the Premier University, first and the best where the future is determined and tomorrow is processed.  But it is in this same institution that THIEF419 in the department of Lucifer, Faculty of Hell is being practiced with such dexterity as one would a Ph.D theses. 

Not just in your halls of residence do they exist, but also, in faculties, departments, classrooms and even among your friends. Sea5rxh the archives of your mind and 24 hours would not be enough to download the several episodes of theft recorded in this faculty let alone the whole of this great citadel.

Here I pop the whistle and bring the match to an end as the AFAS pressboard in itself cannot contain my diary whose first episode started in its comfortable cheerful self, swing its Edward head religiously, descended morally and ascended with concern for the future unconsciously. 

Even now, I remain unconscious of where the last part of my diary hails, it is a mystery I seek not to unravel. In concluding my pregnant diary, 

Credit: maulinaday

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