I woke up on the second ring of my phone. The caller on the screen was 'course rep'. I picked up
immediately, “Ada, Prof. Nwelue would be lecturing
us by 9 a.m today and you know his modus operandi.
Good morning.” The
line went dead even before I could respond to his
greetings. I checked the time, it was 8:35 a.m. I quickly jumped out of bed, unsure of what to do first.
What a way to start the day! I decided to just brush
my teeth, having taken my bath around 1 a.m earlier
that day. Professor Nwelue was a tall, handsome,
bespectacled, young man with dreadlocks and
unshaved beards who studied Sociology and
Anthropology in India. At the age of twenty-eight, he
already had appointment offers all over the world. He
was doing a two-year voluntary lecturing job at the university. He lectured us on SOC 305. “My course is
very easy. Just attend classes and read constantly
and you'll pass,” he always told us. He often ended
his classes with quizzes whenever he organized
impromptu lectures. He was always very punctual to
his classes. I wore a knee-length flowery gown with brown
shoes. Smoothing my hair with the back of my hand, I
picked up my brown leather bag, took one last look
at myself in the standing mirror and dashed out of my
apartment, not forgetting to lock the door behind me.
I ran out of the compound as I shouted greetings to the other occupants of the building. I kept running till I
reached the tarred road and flagged down a bike.
Ordinarily, it took thirty minutes to walk from my
house to the school gate. I climbed the bike, “school
gate,” I told the bike man as he zoomed off. I rushed
into the lecture hall at exactly 8:57 a.m. Students clustered in groups; everyone was anxious because
we knew that a quiz would hold. I spotted my friends
at the second row of seats in the class and quickly
went to join them. A hush fell over the class as the lecturer walked in.
“Good morning students.”
“Good morning Sir,” we replied.
“We'll be looking at behavioural sociology today.”
He lectured for over two hours while we took notes.
After lecturing, he asked a general question and when nobody could give him a satisfactory answer,
he took to calling us out one after the other. Being a
small class of forty-eight students unlike other
departments that boasted of hundreds of students, he
knew us all by our names. He started asking different
questions and we answered to the best of our abilities. In between trying to construct the next
question he would ask and looking for who to point at
to answer his question, he seemed to be also taking
his own notes down. After the question-answer
session, the next five minutes saw him telling jokes
to crack us up. He was very good at that too. “And so my dear students, this is where we'll draw the
curtain for today. Do enjoy the rest of the day,” he
picked his lecture materials and walked out of the
class.
There were audible sighs of relief; some were
already jubilating as the quiz didn't hold again when the Professor walked back into the class.
“Attention! please, for those of you thinking of
when I'll conduct my quiz, you already had a quiz
some forty minutes ago. So, grade yourselves
according to the ways you answered my questions.
The quiz carries fifteen marks, thank you.” He left as quickly as he came in. The class was thrown into
disarray as some were rejoicing while some others
cussed the lecturer. “Today can't get any worse,” my friend and
course mate, Chioma lamented. “All my efforts to
get good marks in this quiz has just been nullified by
this man. Can you imagine that I didn't take my bath
this morning talk more of eating breakfast.”
Everyone burst into laughter as most people admitted to being in similar predicament. Inwardly, I reviewed
the way I answered my question and had the
conviction that I'll get at least eighty percent of the
marks. When the class was almost empty, my friends
and I chose a spot to have our one-hour discussion on
the lecture we just received. After that, we dispersed to our various destinations. As I trekked home, an audible growl in my
stomach reminded me that I had not eaten anything
since the previous night. I sighed as I remembered
the events of the previous day. Lectures had ended
by 5:30 p.m the previous day and on my way home, I
bought ingredients for preparing jollof rice since my cupboard was totally empty. It was exam period and
most students were dry on money, provisions and
foodstuffs. I was just lucky that my parents sent me
some money that morning to buy provisions and
foodstuffs to sustain me till the exams were over. A
shopping mall was opening down the road the following day and I intended going to buy things from
there because they offered discount on their goods. I
had gotten home and buried myself in my books to
cover lost grounds against the upcoming
examinations. I made a mental note to cook the rice
when I was done reading. However, I woke up around 12:45 a.m the following day to discover that I
slept off on my reading table. I couldn't cook then to
avoid disturbing the neighbours. I had no other choice
than to take my bath and go back to sleep hoping to
cook when it was daybreak, only to be woken by
that call from my course rep. Back to the present, I planned resting a bit when I
got home before going to the mall. I had long missed
eba and vegetable soup which was my favorite meal
and couldn't wait to prepare it. On getting home, I
met one of my neighbours, Mama Junior, leaving the
compound. “Good afternoon Ma,” I greeted her.
“Afternoon Ada. How are you?”
“I'm fine Ma. It appears you're going out.”
“Yes o my dear. Didn't you hear they are opening
that mall down the road today? Let me go before
others grab all the benefits,” she answered smiling. I told her that I'll be going to the mall later and bid her
goodbye. I kicked off my shoes, flung my handbag on top of
the reading table and threw myself on the bed as
soon as I unlocked the door to my room. “Home
sweet home,” I muttered. I had rested for barely
thirty minutes when a knock on my door brought me
back from my near-slumber. “Ada, are you in?” asked the caller who was also pushing my door at
the same time. I swore under my breath. Only one
person could knock this way on my door - Stella.
“You this girl, don't break down my door. I'm
coming biko.”
“Are you pregnant? How long will it take you to answer the door?”
“Silly girl, better go back to wherever you're coming
from. I've been enjoying peace in your absence,” I
laughed as I opened the door and let her in. Stella, a 300 level student of Pure and Industrial
Chemistry, was my next door neighbour. Although
relatively younger than I was, she acted more
maturely. She was on the six months mandatory
industrial training in Lagos State. She jumped on top of
my bed and sniffed the air, “ what's the name of your new perfume?”
“Intesa. But I still use Smart Collection's One million.
I thought I.T was six months, why are you back?”
“Don't mind me jare. I just needed to let off some
steam. The work is something else.”
I went to my wardrobe and picked out a dress. “Ebee kwa ka ona-aga? Where is she going to?”
she asked with a knowing smile. I shook my head
and swiped at her, “I want to go to the new
shopping mall. You know it's opening today.”
She sat up with widened eyes, “really? Little wonder
there was traffic congestion around that place when I was coming. Well, I'm coming with you. At
least”....“to snap nah,” we said in unison and
burst into laughter. My stomach growled louder this
time, cutting our laughter short. Before Stella could
speak, I gave her the don't-even-try look and she
started laughing again. “Just look at the way hunger has dealt with my
home girl. But seriously, Ada didn't you cook
anything?” I explained to her that I planned to cook
when I got back from the mall, not forgetting to add
that I had ingredients for jollof rice.
“Look at you starving! If I didn't know better, I would have called you stupid.”
“So what's your suggestion?” I asked innocently.
“Madam, cook rice and eat first to hold your
stomach before thinking of where to go,” she
replied scoffingly.
“You are still going to accompany me to the mall when I finish cooking,” I ordered, as I changed into
a crop top and a pair of shorts.
“No problem. I'll even help you cook the rice,” she
replied. As we cooked, we chattered about many things;
the firm she worked in, Lagos traffic and Lagos in
general, the occupants of our compound and school.
We were interrupted by a soft but firm knock on my
door, “Ada, it's me Fred.” I rushed to the door,
opened it and greeted him. Fred lived in our compound. He was also a student of my department,
but was in his final year. He came to give me an
assignment that I begged him to help me with. I
thanked him and he left.
“Fred still has a crush on you,” Stella quipped as
she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a napkin.
"What's my concern? If he doesn't want to voice out
his feelings, let him keep dying in silence. But I'm not
ready for any kind of relationship yet.” I concluded
in a matter-of-fact voice. Stella just shrugged and
covered the pot of boiling rice. The silence was suddenly interrupted by a loud
explosion that shook our building to its very
foundation. Some of my cooking utensils fell in the
process. Both of us ran out of my apartment into the
compound, to ascertain where the loud bang came
from. We met some of our neighbours who were already outside. One man pointed and we all looked
in the direction he was pointing. Thick, black smoke
rose to the sky, and all around us was commotion.
A woman's wail rented the air, “it's the shopping
mall, it has just been bombed!” Screams of pity and
shock followed. I stood transfixed. “Where did you say was bombed?” I asked as if I
never heard it the first time. “The new shopping
mall,” Fred answered absentmindedly, as he stood
on his toes to catch a glimpse of what was happening
outside the compound. Different thoughts raced through my head as I
tried to absorb the news. “Mama Junior!” I gasped
audibly, “she told me she was going to the mall.”
“Call her on the phone and find out if she is
alright,” someone said. “But I don't have her
number.” By this time, I had broken down in tears, “Dear Lord, please let her be safe.” I prayed
through my tears. A neighbour rushed into her
apartment and brought her phone. “I have her
number, let me call her,” she said.
Just then, Mama Junior ran into the compound with
her son, hugging him tightly to herself. There were audible sighs of relief as we took notice of her
presence. She stopped short on seeing us, “there
has been a bomb blast at the new mall.” “We
know. We were just about calling you to know
whether you were okay,” Stella said. She said that
she got a call from Junior's teacher that he was sick, on her way to the mall. She had to forfeit going to the
mall to bring Junior back from school. We were all
glad she was safe. “Ada, the food!” With that, Stella rushed into my
apartment and I ran after her. It was already burning
when she brought it down. Having lost appetite
momentarily, we went outside again to join the
others.
Grief and gloom hung over the air as the news of the blast was broadcast all over the radio and television
channels that evening. The perpetrators were still at
large. The dead body count was thirty-two, all burnt
beyond recognition. As I dished out the food that night, I couldn't stop
being grateful to God. But for the pot of jollof rice we
prepared that afternoon, I would have been among
the casualties of the blast. Indeed, jollof rice saved
my life. Lol
