#THIS IS NIGERIA
For the fifth time in five days, she was seen leaving the library, as at the time it’s was closing, with couple of books clutched between her palm and her waist, her over size flare skirt following the flow of the night wind.
“Today wasn’t so bad”,: she said as she often say.
“All I have to do now is to cram Geoffrey Chaucer’s “Canterbury tales” and it’s analysis to score points in the exam.
Just Few minutes after, her phone rang and the Nokia phone, which is padded with rubber bound, showed a message notification from her room mates.
“I just concluded my meeting with the lecturer, he wants you to come and have nice times with him. He is ready to pass you, tell other lecturers to and take care of you babe. Think about it sweetie. God will understand, you don’t have to tell your pastor about this one. See you at home.
The lecture theatre was filled with heads and finger flinging their biros on question papers from left to right, some from page to page, some stuck on first page and obviously looking at the ceiling which is already use to their nieve eyes, looking at it for answer they know it won’t provide.
“make sure you write attendance before you exit the hall” the information cut across the hall.
“How many were you able to answer”: one of the ceiling lookers asked his friend.
“All I copied that girl that normally sit in the library. She has been my helper since” he replied
“I wrote the question back to the lecturer” the conversation initiator added with an ignominious facial expression.
“sweet corn, buy sweet corn”
“Daddy!!! Daddy!!! I want corn I want corn”, a little boy of five years demanded from his father as they exit their black ultramodern luxurious SUV. The addressed man, dressed in Giorgio Armani shirt, Gucci cap, denim jean, balenciaga shoe which he bought from his numerous trips to Europe, looked at the smoke flaring, as it lightly roast the skin of the yellow corn seeds gathered around their cob at the bearing of where the advertisement was coming from. He raised two fingers and the lady, with sacks of fresh corns waiting to get roasted sitting comfortably beside her, wrap two corns in old newspapers and move towards them Calmly.
‘Here you go sir”: she said and delivered the packaged corn to him.
“sorry madam did you attend BHS uni?:
“yes I did sir, but I dropped out after three years of carrying same course”
“how sad. Here is my card call me”
The journey home seemed longer than it usually is, the journey from Mali junction to his house took three hours more than the usual duration.
“Did I just see the Library girl I copied through out final year selling corn?: this and other statement escaped his mind through his mouth on the way home.