So, in about four months time, I’ll be graduating from university and I am ecstatic… I think? I am supposed to be, right? And being anything else will be weird. But I am. Not the anything else part oh. I can’t be anything other than a girl; but the ecstatic part.
I am not as ecstatic as everyone else seems to be. And I begin to doubt my sanity. My school is an existence separate from real life. We live a very abstract life; as all students do when you actually look at it. Spending money on stupid things to impress a bunch of people you will not still be with in a couple of years? That, give or take, describes a major part of CU. Anyways, I have a bunch of worries that the average Hebronite has forgotten:
1. Kudi/ owo: also known as money to the non-Nigerian community (that I pray exist as followers). When in school it is normal to call demand for money. As the only girl of the house I lacked any self-respect so I asked for everything: money for hair, money when food price increased, money for shoes, money for trade-fair, money to buy my mum a gift, money when shuttle T-fare increased… It’s not as easy as “daddy give me money for ___” and it will appear. My father is an ijebu man. Demands are always met with suspicion, followed with a mocking statement then a threat to the family name. I think now I will resort to checking his trousers and stealing change.
2. Getting fat: I know every girl worries about this but that is their own business. My worries are more analytically processed. You see, after taking a thorough look of my family tree and the genes that go where, I have realised much to my horror. That not only did my parents give me this flat nose and large feet, they had the audacity to give me the fat-factor. So far it has being controlled being that the cafeteria cannot handle, adequately, my decent quests for a bucket of chips and proper pizza. In fact all they can handle is rice and porridge beans, anything else is a product of God’s grace and self-deceit.But all that will be in the past.
We’re talking sitting at home, free access to all them chicken and ice-cream, Meat and that creamy cake the new cake shop sells, weekly straight-from-Abuja Kilishi, that great donut from Sheraton, suya from down the road, chocolate ecstasies, KFC chicken I steal from my brother. How will I hold back the ever encroaching fat?!
To the inexperienced eye (guys) this is a good thing. They call it body. They call it shape.
I call it ice-cream is history, better go jog.
3. Welcome to the 70%: what is the 70%? It’s the unemployed population in ‘The Giant of Africa’ and that is what I’m joining oh. The rat race of 8am – 6pm jobs. I will never forget my Industrial Training last year. I will leave home at 7 and get back by 6. For what? Fifteen thousand Naira. Aye le! I knew then that mehn, this is not the life for me. People like me (lazy-ass people) get married to rich dudes and bask in the jacuzzi of wealth forever. I will not disturb him oh. Nag? God forbid. Just keep the money pouring in and I will keep you happy.
Am I Gold –digger? Me? Digging gold? with my perfect manicure? I will employ people for that one!
4. Put a ring on it: In Nigeria, that’s the next step oh. There is nothing that qualifies you as an achiever more like that tiny round metal on your left hand.
Graduate with a first-class. Congratulations. Buys you a car.
Have a great job. Good for you. Gets you an apartment on rent.
Get married. You get a house, a car, furniture, cutlery, a maid. They throw a freaking party. Relatives you have never seen and every Mo gbo and mo ya are in attendance. Its like everyone is thinking I never thought anybody will marry her oh, Thank God she caught him. Like catching an animal. An educated highly social animal. In my teens my favourite threat was telling my mum I wasn’t not getting married. She will start praying oh. Casting and binding demons and all sorts.
5. Children /chíldrən/ :little people running up and down trying to eat sand and ants, not bathe and embarrass you. Synonyms: pikin.
You might call it thinking far ahead but it’s a lie. If you don’t have them when planned, there’ll be problem oh:
They’re chasing you from village. Please don’t imagine a group of african villagers. ‘They’ is any hater that has gone out of their way for babalawo consultation.
Prayers and fasting in every church available.
When this bundle of joy now comes. It will be like part 2 of I-hate-my-life. They will try very hard to make life a living hell. All the while smiling innocently at strangers who will touch their heads and say: “she’s so pretty.” Whilst pretty baby plots in her mind how to break, ruin and destroy everything you like.
6. Old age: ok. Wearing adult nappies. Not having anything to do all day. Seeing all my friends dropping off like flies. Old people smell. No heels. Everyone getting shocked if I mention climbing stairs. No teeth. Let’s not even talk about the wrinkles, the flabby and the sagging.*goosebumps*.
But when it comes am going to be gangster oh. I’ll be like the granny your mama told you to stay away from… the one you point at and whisper about. yeah.
That is it oh… dear people. this is what I think about when everyone is jumping up and down shouting June 29. Can I wait? I dunno. I’m not much of an experimenter but whether I like it or not the second-hand of time will continue to move.
It can only go well. God dey.