Dustrous roads of Asherifa with the old white paint that peeles the White House. From interstellar bodies to quantum particles. Large Hadrons collides with electromagnetic fields, and finally, to the chaotic assembly of gas particles.
This is my first public end as a semester diatriber.
I do not know if it even qualifies a diatriber, but here is nothing. Life itself is a vicious circle of recycled battles, and my school – a battlefield in a cage. Everything here is a fight. You fight for the notes you want, you fight for a seat in a overcrowded class, you fight for the woman you love, you fight for the life you want. You will not always win, but you will never stop fighting. And oh my boy, we fought a lot.
The first battle was against time. The days of pleasure have been completed since the 2nd year. As we did it, we were already to the knees in the 3rd year – far from the calendar, at least most of us were. The bass understood it long before we did.
So when we finally entered the fight, we did it sad. We were hungry. We made him tired. We made it a broken heart. Sometimes we did it happy. Most of the time, we did it reluctantly. But we did it anyway – because it had to be done.
Crash. Log. Repeat.
It was an endless cycle.
I have immense respect for exceptional students – but even more for those who do not have it, but who strive to be. Those who burn all night, sacrificing sleep in search of academic excellence, fighting against the chances of a country that no longer or no longer respect for that.
Special mention to Sir Hezzy, whose famous comment planted the seed of this diatribe in my head – as an idea in creation. And like a virus, like that, boom! He spread in an average long article. Sir Hezzy does not sleep. This is why, when the results of our mathematical physics test were published, and in one of the rarest moments of his collapse, he sadly said: “I make sleep for the Dey house, I put you nonsense.
We all felt the same thing – but we hid it behind the mask of “e dey happening, examine the forehead”. I could have written failure to a problem of competence as I would normally, but in truth, it was more bad luck than the lack of skills. Or, more specifically, the level leveler thong.
For my part, I fought hard. There were days when my head was resting more on the wooden offices of the library than on the sweetness of my pillow – days spent reading between the lines, trying to anticipate what the professor cannot be named, while the faces of my comrades reflected the same silent battle. Learn symbols, names and strange theorems – those they told us have laid the foundations for the world and anomalies within it.
There are days when, even with friends, I move away, lost in my own thoughts. So many people flood my mind, but we take them all: there are so many things I want to be. I have to do more, to be more – but I’m afraid than getting more, I have to become something that I am not yet. Something I don’t know how to be. Something I don’t even know if I will be.
And yet, there are days that I wonder – what end is this struggle?
There is tacit solidarity among those who come here to read – a link in a way. At Faj, HSLT, the library or anywhere else, you may not know the name of someone, so you identify them by what they wear, what they take (cry at to fearless), or more often, where they are seated.
This is why you hear things like: “I gave your calculator to Ac Guy”-that is to say the guy who is sitting by the corner next to the AC.
It reminds me of a brother I met at Faj Café one of these nights of the year 2. We resolved countless calculation problems together, but we never knew the names of the other – and we never care to ask. Outside, we would exchange head nods like Bruce and Alfred in this cafe.
This brother, my comrade – I respect.
The days preceded on March 5, augur a storm.
Regarding metaphors, “it is not quantum mechanics or rocket science” is common. But when writing this, we had just finished quantum mechanics – and it really stormed. Professor He-Qui-Must-Not-Be-Name made sure that we seized the metaphor in his most literal sense. It was the biggest accident I have ever seen among my colleagues.
By the way, I believe that it is an unwritten law of nature that each Nigerian student must complain about exams and results. In fact, everyone does – even those who have performed well. In my opinion, this is also part of the wired solidarity in each student.
Saturday March 14, 4:25 am I look at the vast ocean of black and blue ink in front of me, ridiculously sub-prepare for the last two exams of the semester. This is one of these days. If there is something that I have learned from my years in this school, it is that everything will be fine – even if it does not seem. Like today. There is so little time left, but there is never a time too late to believe in something. Two days later, I barely slept for four hours. That it was worth it – it would only be known at the end. But now the semester is over. The fight is made – for the moment.
There are still a lot of battles to come, win and lose. But for the moment, I’m going to let my vision bags double in size, see my favorite films again, come together and laugh and go wrong with my friends. While preparing for an even more fierce battle.
It does not become easier. We are not stronger. But we will do it – anyway.
My parents had to really feel the breath of God when they named me. God really loves me – He sends his greatest soldiers when I need it most: my friends. I cannot be grateful to them, and I hope that one day, I can reimburse them all.
Shoutout to my tutors, lateefah and lade, for their unshakable moral support – without them, I would have abandoned a long time ago. At Tops, my vice-president, for his clutch notes. For Feranmi, Blakky and Lekan – men I trust, men who have a sort of a solution for each problem. To Sir Hezzy, Samad and John, Paul and Samuel who presented themselves in combat every day. And of course, to Mr. Osimhe Jonathan and his boys, who made sure that the library was still open for this coalition.
And for all those who had as little as a finger in my academic return – however, really, it was more a seat than a return – I do not take any of you for granted.
By coincidence, the final examinations of my most difficult academic semester so far were exactly ten years and one day after my mother’s death. Rest in peace, mom. I love you. I may not be an exceptional student anymore but I am always fine. ❤️
PS: this is only my second average article, and it may seem a little disjointed, everywhere, or even forced sometimes. But it will be better over time – I promise it.
👑 #MR_HEKA 👑
