I have no dignity left…

I have no dignity left…

As you cross the gate that serves as the demarcation between the University of Nigeria, Nsukka and the rest of the world, your eyes are sure to fall upon the inscription (that’s if you’re not short sighted) beneath one really tired lion holding up nothing but dry, reddish air.
The inscription? To restore the dignity of man.

Disclaimer: You will not agree with everything you’re about to read, and that is perfectly okay.

Maybe now you understand what I mean when I say, I have no dignity. Hell, whatever dignity I’ve accumulated all my life has probably disappeared into the dry Nsukka air that restricts airflow to your nostrils or reddish sands that always get stuck between your toes. Talk about annoying.

The other day, I had to trace a missing result from my previous year’s examination and I saw shege. Normal hard girl like me, I quickly started doing what need to be done, on some James Bond 007 sh*t, tracing this here and there. I mean, this wasn’t the first time I’d had a missing result so yeah, we meuveee.

But this time was different – Firstly, I’m currently in final year and for every finalist (I think), the most scary thought ever is any mishap or mistake that could make you stay back in school for an extra year.
Secondly, the period for course registration had elapsed; this meant that I couldn’t rewrite the course even if I wanted to. I had one option, find my missing result.

Seems pretty straightforward abi? I head over to the department of the course (it’s an outside course, not my department’s) and make enquires about the lecturer who handled the course for my department – she isn’t around so I’m told to check back the next day.

The next day, I head back and I still don’t find the lecturer, who never seems to be in her office by the way, but I meet the department’s secretary who directs me back to my department to check for the result as they’ve all been forwarded. But for some reasons, I still cannot find my result.

Two days later and I still have to go back to the other department, where I’m told yet again that the lecturer is still not on seat. I turn slowly towards the brown, grainy double doors and shut it behind me as my gaze falls upon students trooping about with the little dignity they have left. My legs feel heavy as I go down the short flight of stairs and out of the rain washed building into the waiting arms of the angry sun.

I walk slowly… it’s Friday and if I don’t sort this out soon, it might be too late for me. I imagine the graduation list coming out and my name not being on it, I imagine the disappointed looks on my folks’ faces as they encourage me because it wasn’t my fault, I imagine me back in school for an extra year after my mates have left and then I taste the salt on my lip before I realize that I’m tearing up right in the open! Who’s cutting onions because it’s definitely not my eyes water can be coming out from. 😥

And then I can’t stop; here’s me crying on the streets of UNN. Hard guy tings peeled off and damaged like Iron Man’s suit after the fight with Thanos in End Game. I can barely console myself until I get to my friend’s house and she offers me food.
N.B – No matter what you do, have a friend that cooks. Food always helps. ALWAYS. Especially spaghetti.

Fast forward to a week later and I finally resolve the issue, found my results with the kindest non academic staff ever. Omo, federal universities is definitely not for the weakhearted.

So yeah, my dignity? All gone. Right now, I will cry at the slightest provocation as long as it means I get out of this system as soon as possible. So much for restoration, UNN, so much.

I remain your favourite Wolf. 🐺✨
Stay happy, stay bad.

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My name is Favour, what’s yours?

I'm a writer, music enthusiast and I love spaghetti more than my life. Don't forget the chopsticks!