As you lay down, stretching your legs, your mind drifts to one of the most ridiculous hostel sagas you've ever witnessed.
It was just last semester when one fresher, all bright-eyed and eager, unknowingly walked into the most overpriced transaction of the century.
Normally, hostel spots were sold between ₦60,000 and ₦80,000, depending on desperation levels, sessions and negotiation skills. But this JJC (Johnny Just Come) somehow got swindled into paying ₦100,000 for a bed space. One hundred whole thousand naira! For what? A mattress that had seen generations? A ceiling fan that barely rotated? A room with three other people who might snore or even steal your Milo or bread?
By the time people started talking about it, the story had spread like wildfire across the hostel. You remember how one of your roommates had burst into the room that evening, breathless and dramatic;
"E choke! Somebody don pay hundred kay for hostel space oh!"
The way the gist spread ehn, you know an outsider would think it was breaking news on national TV. Everywhere you went, people were whispering, laughing, or shaking their heads in disbelief. You remember seeing the deal breaker in the canteen the next day; an average looking guy, even walking around with extra confidence, like he had just closed a million-dollar deal.
But wahala be like bicycle, and as usual, it started moving. The matter somehow reached the Dean of Student Affairs, and before anybody could say "scam", the two students were summoned.
That day, the hostel was buzzing. Everybody wanted to know what would happen. Would they refund the money? Would they punish the seller? Would the school finally put an end to the black market of hostel spaces?
You didn't hear how the issue ended, though. These kinds of matters usually started with plenty of noise and ended with nothing. "Abi na me?" You asked yourself thinking you're actually the cause of your lack of information problem.
However , aside you, you know that School authorities had a habit of turning a deaf ear to hostel wahala—unless someone's father was an important somebody. More often than not, after a few threats and big English, life would continue as if nothing happened.
Thinking about it now, you shake your head and chuckle. That ₦100,000? Gone forever? or maybe not. "What am I even saying" you sigh shaking your head because you know that to some students, that money is actually chicken change. Hopefully, the fresh student at least got a good bed position—far from the toilet and close to the socket.
The door bursts open, and your roommate; Ella, walks in, her laughter filling the small space. Behind her, two girls trail in—one short, one tall. The tall one looks like she's trying to suppress a laugh, while the short one? Anger. Pure, undiluted anger.
You barely have time to react before the short girl throws her bag on Ella's bed and clutches her head dramatically.
"I don suffer for this life!" she exclaims.
Ella, still laughing, collapses onto her bed beside her. "Aswear, I no fit laugh alone!" .
You sit up, interested. "Wetın happen?"
The short girl spins around, her eyes wild with frustration. "My guy the do man"
You blink. "Ehn?"
"Yes oh! Man!" she repeats, emphasizing the word like it personally offended her existence. "And I just dey here since dey form 'good girl', thinking the idiot was keeping me for marriage!"
At this point, Ella and the tall girl explode into another round of laughter. You, on the other hand, are trying to process this revelation.
Ella is a pastor's daughter, the kind that grew up in church programs, whose father thunders from the pulpit about sin and salvation every Sunday. You've heard her speak in tongues in her sleep once, and she starts every morning with loud gospel music that nobody asks for. Seeing her laugh this much over such a thing is—interesting.
The short girl continues, completely ignoring their amusement. "You Sabi how many times I give testimony about this relationship? How I used to tell people, 'Ah, my boyfriend is different! He truly loves me, he's not after my body!"
The laughter in the room doubles.
"Eeeyahhh!" the tall girl adds, wiping tears from her eyes.
You shake your head, still trying to wrap your head around it. "Wait first. This kind thing dey happen for Nigeria?"
All three of them pause and turn to look at you like you just said the president is a good man.
"Ah-ah, you never hear before?" Ella asks, grinning.
You shrug. "I thought it was only in oyinbo movies."
"Na so I think too!" the short girl wails. "I dey here dey keep myself pure, meanwhile, the guy no even send my gender!" You can see how painted she felt from here facial expression.
The tall girl cackles. "My dear, you were never the main character in that relationship."
Ella claps her hands in agreement. "Exactly! You were just an extra!"
You can't help it anymore—you burst into laughter. This hostel? There's never a dull moment. Funny thing is that whenever these things happen, the sympathy the victim usually gets is insults and more salts to the wound.
The short girl falls onto the bed, sighing loudly. "This life no balance."
Just as the laughter begins to die down, the door swings open again, and your other two roommates step in.
The first is Faith, a law student whose entire personality revolves around cases, statutes, and quoting the Constitution at the slightest opportunity normal stereotype of a typical serious law student.
The second, Tega, is a political science guru who can turn any conversation into a full-blown debate about Nigeria's leadership problems. The moment they step in and see the way you, Ella and her friends are still catching their breath from laughter, curiosity sparks in their eyes.
"Wetın happen?" Faith asks, dropping her bag on her bed which is above you.
Before you can even summarize, the short girl—still fuming—sits up and declares," my guy dey do man", the laughter erupted once more because of how she keeps saying it. You could clearly sense the disbelief in her voice.
Tega stops mid-step. "You say?" She throws her head back and laughs, clapping her hands. "God abeggg! See premium breakfast"
Faith, always the serious one, sit beside you and asked; "How did you find out?"