A TRIP DOWN UNIBEN LANE ( PART 10)

This piece is dedicated to History 2013/2014 graduates.
The only set that girded their loins and defeated my set in one of the most enthralling student elections in Uniben.

You guys rock always and I pray that no door shall prove too strong for you guys to fall in Jesus name.

Keep reigning and keep being the brightest beacons of your generation that draws everyone to beauty and excellence.
Hopefully, I will document that historic victory for posterity to read, laugh and be inspired.

____________

In despondent steps, I walked away from the ISD class while they jeered at me.
Snickering behind my back while I secretly prayed that our department would win the election.

As the bragging rights would return to our class,
And we would walk past our enemies with our shoulders higher than an igbo woman's shoulder pads at an august meeting.

"Kosi. Any progress?" Oga Ibori inquired.
Faintly knowing that my answer would be negative.
Yet harboring a faint hope that it would be positive.
As that would greatly reduce the job entrusted upon him.

Oga Ibori was the Bola Tinubu of our class.

The 'jagaban' who aspirants came to seek permission from before declaring any political interest.

The Oshiomole who could make any opponent to lose within his stronghold.

The driving force behind the curtain who could mobilize all forces towards the actualization of a goal.
For he was an embodiment of the word 'struggle'.

Like Obasanjo, the Ebora of Owu, Ibori was ever scheming ways to install and depose any disloyal candidate.

For 'loyalty' is the key ingredient which godfathers of politics seek in aspirants.

Hence good intentioned eagles like NOSA could never become the SUG president because they were not ready to 'do well'.

Disloyal folks were those who were not ready to become soldiers to advance a cause.
Instead they wish that others would fight for them when their aspirations came up.

Disloyal folks were those who never seemed to go with the flow at most times.
Always choosing to become activists when the course representative increases the fee of a photocopied material by 5 naira.

Little wonder our class activist failed miserably in the class representative elections.
Lord knows that the 'powers that be' wanted no disloyal rep that would work against the interests of the class.
Those class reps that continued to cooperate with the lecturers at the dismerit of his coursmates.

_________

"No, oga Ibori" I replied.
Seriously wishing I could have replied in affirmative.

For he held the key to a certain city which I wanted to rule over.

For he held the key to a certain treasure chest which I wanted to unlock.

For he was a friend to a 'her', who, at the time, was 'burstin my brain' like LAX said in reference to CAROLINA who himself and Wizkid were searching for.

Her, whose presence could light up any room and drive away dampness from all hearts.

Her, whose smile could melt the hearts of a thousand chairmen and cause the drunkard to divorce his dearest bottle.

Her, who cars, as long as the train of cars of a igbo Malaysian boy returning to the village, lined up to pick after class.

Her, who could conveniently fight the whole market in the spirit of a true Bini girl, yet was so tender in her speech.

Aye.
Madame Peace Izevizua was all that and much more.

_______

"Nor worry yourself eh Kosi. Them go regret am later" Oga Ibori said as he walked away in his trademark bouncing steps.

Like a train of unpaid NLC workers, we continued marching.

Raising up our "UGO FOR PRESIDENT" placards and dancing to the songs being reeled out from the speakers brought by the hired Djs.

True.
The manifesto was a day of dancing too;

Where every candidate was to 'shake bodi'to the bass of the speakers;

Where the Christian political candidates seemed to forget all fellowship rules and gyrated to the gleeful urging of the crowds gathered around.
The same crowd which would rush home to tell the tales of 'how that christian brother failed to uphold his virtues' even though they urged him on;

Where the male students had the opportunity to rock female students.
Twisting and whining to the applause of their excited coursemates;

Within minutes, our train had reached the faculty quadrangle.

The yard where lifelong friendships have been forged.

The location where lifelong love sparks have been ignited and cemented.

That location where photocopy merchants keep shouting "hey brother, hey sister" like cat calls at the along a popular red light district.

That square shaped patch of land was the location where the manifesto was to be held

"Ahh Hann Ahh haaan.
Yes ooo.
Nothing dey happen,
Nothing dey shele.
Anytin wey kpai na winch.
I welcome una to the 2019/2010 manifesto for the Faculty of Arts student elections.
Abeg make one person come pray make we open the show" The short and stout Master of ceremonies said.

An upstart who, at all offices, had begged to be given the gig.
For this would greatly enhance his prestige among other MC's

Hopefully making him more popular than MC Casino and earning him a seat at the governing table of the SUG.

At his request, an eager aspirant rushed to collect the microphone.

Offering prayers with a tiny voice that was eclipsed by the excited voices of the students above.

"For the event we are about to start, we thank and invite thee o lord."
So she prayed.
Offering the same worded prayer being offered by Nigerians at all events.

To be continued in later posts
#BASHORUN

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