“Hello Tosin, I hear say our result don come out, abeg help me check my own my matric number na 699”
“Okay na, I go check am when I enter school this afternoon” I replied the caller.
I hissed as I ended the phone call. That afternoon, the session results had just been pasted. I had received over thirty calls and 25 matric numbers , most of the calls from my coursemates which I dont really know much. Students and their penchant for disseminating and seeking information , only God knew how they got to know that I didn’t go home for the break and how they got my phone number.
I rushed my bath and took a cup of cassava flakes, by the time i checked my phone again, I had 5 more missed calls. I ignored the missed calls and switched to the silent profile, I wasn’t interested in picking calls anymore that day
There was an hullabaloo of students as I got close to the Civil Engineering Department Notice Board.
” Hey, Tosin welcome oo, God don help me o” Martin said as he rushed towards me with his face full of smiles ” I no get carry over o, oya make we go check your own na”
Have I told you about Martins? Martins was my course mate whose matric number was next to mine. We always found each other in the same exam hall. Martins is what I call a very sharp photocopying machine. The guy was always poor in every subject, of course except for COPYING 101, he always had distinction in that. What astonishes me about Martins is that distance is never a barrier to him, he always finds a way of communicating with other students, he also had a sharp vision, he could see answers from your booklet even if your handwriting was as small as microorganisms. Maybe because he had a distinct set of eyeballs that could make Segun Arinze loose hope in an ‘eye contest’.
Getting close to the board wasn’t easy as a crowd of students were gathered there, some had checked their result but would not leave the board, they were ones who had narrow escapes from withdrawal and the group of the gossipers who talked about every other persons result.
” Tosin, I have checked your own, yours is 4.6″ one of the gossips, told me as she spotted me.
“Okay, thank you. I still have to see it myself” I replied without taking a second look at her.
As I got to the board, I couldn’t help but notice ‘Ak47’, his face showed remorse and regret, he had been advised to withdraw, Ak47 whose real name was Akeem who was one of the notorious guys in the class, I remember him boasting on the day we wrote the last paper, ‘Dem no born any lecturer papa well make him give me carry over for this school, I go show am Pepper”
Now, it seemed he was the one who had been showed pepper.
I scrolled through the list to confirm my GP, yes she was correct, I had 4.62. “Well, thats distinction, thank God” I said to myself. Then I brought out a pen with the paper I had written the matric number of the callers ,checked for their Gps and wrote them in a hurry because I couldn’t stand the push from the back anymore. Maybe I should have been patient because my impatience there almost cost me my head.
Before I got out of the school premises, I started sending reports to some of my friends via Whatsapp and BBM. Then I received a call from Wale whose parent’s house was only thirty minutes drive away from school.
“Oh boy, U don check am?”
“Yes, wetin be your matric no?”
“Okay” I checked through the sheet of paper and replied in a low tone “omo na 1.2 you get o”
” Ah! No be withdraw be that?” Wale asked in shock
” E be like so o”
“Ah, wo ni pe ko weedrawn, ti Baba e ba gbo, o ma le e jade kuro nile ni” I heard an underground voice speak in yoruba language. I was sure it was his mum who was listening to our conversation. She said ” They’ve asked you to withdraw? If Your father gets to know, he would send you packing”
I wondered how Wale failed the exam. I knew Wale studied hard, he told us how he wasn’t serious during his secondary school days, how he failed WAEC papers three times woefully having the ‘fatai’ grade in all subjects except yoruba. His father had vowed not to send him to the University, it took the intervention of their Pastor to change his father’s decision. After which the father warned that if he failed again, he would have him beheaded and send his head to the Ifa Priest in the village for sacrifice to cleanse the land.
By the time I got back to my room, I was soaked in sweat, I took a shower and laid on my bed wearing only shorts. I slept off and started having sweet dreams, A pretty damsel served me a plate of pounded yam and egusi soup. I was about to take the first lump when someone shook me violently.
I opened my eyes to find Wale holding a glittering machete above my head.
“Shhhhhh” he said to me ” shey na you wan destroy my life abi? I must carry your head go house today”
Only God knows how I got the strength and wisdom to dodge the machete strike and escape from the room. Thank God for adrenaline, I’ve heard it could make an heavily pregnant woman somersault when trouble comes.
It was later I discovered that I had told Wale the wrong GP, he didnt score 1.2, infact, he had 3.38. His father had heard he got 1.2 and in anger, immediately sent his son away from home, after which he took all the boys credentials and certificates to an unknown akara hawker
“Please tell me, would Wale ever forgive me?”