In our quasi lecture halls with few benches, an extra effort was needed to see the lecturer and maybe hear him. At times one was considered lucky if he were inside as most times students listened from outside. Albeit, some choose the outside to avoid the heat, many were forced out due to lack of space. I wanted to make it inside and if possible get a seat because so much depended on attending Mr. Onwukwe’s lecture. He had no handouts or test books to sell; the student’s only recourse was the lecture and some text books left by Lord Lugard after the amalgamation; which adorned the universities library. My only choice was to make it in time.
I had just left my hostel and was hurriedly walking towards the school and at the same time looking out for a bike when I ran into Uche, my course mate.
“Hi, Uche what’s up?”
“Hello, I’m okay. Are you going to school?” she asked.
“Yes, I bet you are going to school too?”
“Sure, but I want to bike. Are you trekking?”
“Not on your life, you think you’re the only one that needs Onwukwe’s lecture?”
“No! Well, you are welcome to bike. Nobody is stopping you,” she replied.
We were still exchanging the banter when we flagged down a passing bike; and as usual the ladies took the first plunge. I had no qualms with the ‘ladies first’ thing, in so far as they‘ll do the same in hell. But, ladies in their peculiar way would find a way to play second fiddle when the time comes.
“Well, see ya in school; I’ll wait for another bike,” I said.
“Okay, thanks Chima, you’re always a darling,” she said perkily.
“Any time gal, I hope that doesn’t mean that I play the fool often?” I scowled.
“No! Hey, can’t you take a simple compliment?” she shouted as the bike drove towards school.
It wasn’t two minutes after that another bike showed up.
“How much is it to the school gate?” I asked.
“Just forty naira,” the bike man replied.
“No, I‘ll pay thirty. Are you new around here?” I inquired.
I guess I shouldn’t have asked the price since I knew the statuesque but time had taught me otherwise. It was always better to negotiate than assume things, only to quarrel later.
“Okay, enter; I hope you have thirty naira because I've got no change," the bike man said.
“Aah, when did that become the customer’s job?” I inquired. “I pay you and also provide the change?”
“No, I just came out that’s why I’m asking,” the bike man explained.
“Well, when we get to school we’ll see about my balance. But this is your business and you ought to have the tools of your trade,” I snapped.
“Yes sir!" he mockingly replied. "I don’t blame you. Thanks all the same for teaching me my so called job,” he sneered.
His rebuke had its effect; in an instant I was contrite. I shouldn’t have snapped at him the way I did. I wasn’t in the habit of being rude to bike men, although, some of them can be a nuisance. But this one seemed nice and cultured and still he got grinded by what I can’t yet identify was biting me. “I’m sorry, bro. I just need to get to lecture on time.”
“You don’t have to apologize, blame the government for reducing me to this state. I think a bike man should take what you said to me, I still find it hard to ignore the chip your educational system strapped on my shoulders.”
“Wao, what’s that supposed to mean? That’s quite a statement,” I said.
“Forget it, it’s nothing. I still find it hard being a bike man after spending years in the university in the hope that it would guarantee a better job.”
“What? You mean you are a graduate?” I shouted, not believing him.
I couldn’t mask my surprise, as I found it hard to swallow. I didn’t want to believe it but on a second thought I could just as well believe it. For one, his long speech a while ago said something, and his visible anger at the system excised any further doubts I had.
“Are you surprised?” he laughed, “Well, don’t be. I’m not the only one. We are many out there. You can even say that I’m lucky since I had the mind to save some money during my service year.”
“But you should have looked for jobs?” I half stated and half queried.
“Which job? And where do you start? My young man I don’t want to take your time discussing my problems but after my national youth service I spent two years at home looking for a job. I had good grades but I lacked the connections. Maybe you can add that I wasn’t among the lucky few that had nobody and still got jobs.”
I was visibly distressed as he looked at my face and burst into laughter. But I wasn’t angry for him alone. I was angry with the system and afraid for my self. It meant three years from now I or some of my friends could be like him.
“That’s really too bad; then why are we studying and wasting time here? We can as well learn a trade,” I protested.
“I don’t think you should do that, my friend. Our fates are not the same and it isn’t as if I’m finished. I still look for jobs but as they say, man must chop, you know?"
“I think you are right, but that doesn’t take away the betrayal of the youths by the government.”
“Presently, we’re helpless. Maybe God will remember our file one day. I have to go now."
I made to pay him but he stopped me.
“Please, keep your money, some other time,” he said.
“No, this is your business," I protested.
“Do keep it,” he insisted, “You‘ve already paid me through our discussion.”
“No, I should be thanking you for taking me on a session through humility.”
“I don’t think so, the lesson was mutual,” he said as he drove off.
“Thanks bro, see ya some other time and more luck!” I shouted after him.
“Bye, my young friend,” he shouted in return.
I looked at my watch and it was half past eleven. I still had thirty minutes, but I wasn’t keen on making the front row again. I’d had enough lessons for the day.
« return.