-My Life On Campus

Must Read: My Life On Campus… Part 66

If You Missed The Part 65, Read It Here

This girl must be mean to have taken my bag, I said to myself as I increased my steps, ninety miles per hour. I pursued her with everything I had, every fibre of my being and no time, I covered the gap she created. Questions rushed into my mind as I afterwards saw her walking as she changed her direction. I cared less about her feet transition, so I rapidly moved closer to her, then forcefully dragged the right strap of the bag from her shoulder.

She fearfully turned around, holding her right teat like a precious metal, with her rage turned up to its maximum. I held in my hand a strap but I was surprised to see the left strap of the bag firmly resting on her shoulder and the right, dangling by her arm. Like flash, I fell on my knees begging. Why? The strap I was holding was for her bra.

“Please, I’m so sorry.” I said with a cloud of pity revolving around me. “Please pardon my stupidity.”

She bowed her head in anger, with her hand still on her chest, she raised her head and gave a fake smiled. “What can I do for you?” She asked.

“Ehm ehm, before I entered the exam hall, Mrs Nwachkwu asked me to drop my bag, then I moved and dropped my bag, then she searched me, then…” I was narrating when she angrily interjected.

“What’s my business with all you’re saying?” She yelled. “You must be crazy for delaying me. Idiot, foolish boy. You think I’m one of those cheap girls you chase around? Fool!”

She snatched her bra strap from me and walked away. I stood up, gazing at my bag go away. Banji, don’t be a fool, go get your bag, my instinct urged me again. I adhered. I paced quickly and got behind her without her notice, then I placed my left hand beneath the bag, touching and tenderly squeezing it to feel its content.

Slaaaap! I held my cheek, caressing it to ease of the pain. “More of that you will receive if you don’t back off.” She warned, turned around and moved on.

That slap was actually needed to place me back on track. I took to my heels to the department to confirm if my bag was truly gone. Within a twinkle of an eye, I got to the department but from afar the heap of bags had disappeared with no single bag left.

“This girl must be a bastard!” I angrily said. “She stole my bag, my phone and my money and she had the effrontery to slap me. She must be a joker.”

I had no option than to report my case to the course supervisor, Mrs Nwanchukwu. I knocked on her door, then went in without her permission.

“Good morning ma.”

“Good morning.” She replied. “Yes, how may I help you?”

“Excuse me ma, when you asked us to drop our bags, I dropped mine by this side.” I said, pointing to the spot I dropped my bag from her office. “Then, after the exam I couldn’t find my bag again. But I saw one girl…”

“Is that the bag?” She interjected and pointed.

I looked quickly at the direction of her hand and I grinned when I saw it. “Yes ma. That’s my bag.” I said, smiling.

“Ok. Take it.” She said. “So, what happened to the girl after the exam?”

I picked up my bag and paused at the spot. “Ma? Which girl?” I asked, confused.

“The one you wanted to talk about.”

I scratched my head. “Ma, I and the girl were both searching for it. That’s it ma.”

“Ok, you may go.”

As soon as I left her office, I opened the bag, brought out the phone and the cheque, buried them in my pocket, then forged out of the campus. I was so elated. I threw a coin in my mind to determine where to go, the bank or the telecommunication office. Time favored the later, it was 11:58 P.M. I hurriedly board a motorcycle and it alighted me at the nearest telecommunication office. I walked in, bounced to the customer service, laid my complain and I was asked to wait for some minutes.

While waiting, I can’t help but notice how beautiful the service attendant was. Abisola, that’s her name, I found out from the nameplate placed on her desk. The color of her scarf, which she converted to a tie, blended with the color of the building, yellow.

“Hello, Mrs Abisola, I’m waiting.” I said because minutes were becoming an hour.

She looked at me and smiled. “It’s Miss Abisola.” She said. “Come over and have your SIM card.”

I stood, walked up to her, smiled and collected it. “Thanks so much.” I said.

“You’re welcome.” She replied. “Would that be all?”


“Thanks, we are always with you.” She said, smiled and winked at me. “Everywhere you go.”

I smiled and left the office. I was so happy to launch my SIM card with a new phone, so I brought out my phone as I flagged down a motorcycle.

It stopped. “Hikmoj Bank, for dammygoody.” I said, pointing ahead.

“Two hundred.” The motorcyclist said.

“Two what? Sey wetin? Hikmoj Bank for here.” I said, aggressively pointing to an unknown destination. “Dammygoody street wey no far from here, zoom zoom, you don reach and you sey two hundred. Abeg na one fifty jor.”

“Oya enter.” He said.

I cajoled him. As I relished every minute on the bike, I was busy trying to get my sim card into my phone. I detatched the SIM card from the plastic successfully, then I placed it between my lips. My hands were full and busy; the sim pack, the plastic and the phone, all laid in my hands. I muddled through to pull out the SIM card tray but my grip on the phone wasn’t firm enough.

Unknowingly, the motorcyclist ran into a ditch, I lost grip on the phone and it slipped away from my hand.

I quickly removed the SIM card from my lips. “Jesus! My phone.” I yelled.

“Wetin?!” The motorcyclist yelled in return.


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