This morning was strange. I woke up by 5.25 a.m. Being able to achieve such a rare and unconventional accomplishment would most probably get me nominated for a National Award later this year. I was startled. But there were crucial and high-priority obligations to take into consideration. I was starving that it made me feeble and delicate to carry my lazy body up from the bed. It was a normal bed. After all, this was a hostel.
Yes- I was still lodging in Udi Street Hostel. I made an uncompromising effort not to proceed for the end-of-session holiday. I needed to avail myself this time and read ahead of the courses I was going to learn the next session. Besides, I'd be writing my First Professional Examination too. Guess my motive was well accounted for.
As tradition demands, the CBN auditorium was my holy sanctum of reading and cramming. But unfortunately this time around it lost its usual content of loquacious and tongue-wagging students who never see anything profitable in shutting their pungent buccal cavity.
I was happy. And unhappy too. Happy that their absence is making this sanctum more habitable. And unhappy that my eyes were missing the treat of some nice feminine spectacles with figures that could make a Pastor bleed in his pants. I have consciously become aware of an exceptional debate prevalent amongst UniUyo guys. Most often than none, they keep admitting that their UniUyo female counterparts are not so pretty and fetching for them.
I don't especially indulge in these arguments as the thought of the notion sounds particularly trivial and inessential to someone of my concerns. If I take this personal, I think looks on a girl doesn't particularly excite the average guy if she has no proportionate unmentionables to accompany them. A pretty face without some nice curves in the right places (guess everywhere is right) tastes more like eating without salt. When time comes for fondling, nuzzling and touching- which our UniUyo dudes are especially talented at, I wonder whether they'd be grinding bones or mere skin. You think I don't know what happens in those purported night classes when the school light goes off?? It takes a thief to catch a thief huh?
While I was brooding on the momentary loss of some tantalizing and the steamy sight of our heavenly-endowed UniUyo chics (not all o o o), I settled down for the business of the day. I was on my last chapter in Neuro-anatomy - Cranial Nerves. I had been on this very chapter for four days now- which is exceptionally abnormal. I conclusively made up my mind to wrap it up.
Hardly had I begun to flip through four pages of my Neuro-anatomy textbook than my wristwatch told me it was 11 a.m. Damn! I was freaking bored already. When I came into CBN hall by 7 a.m, I was the only human specie. Now, about three guys were in the same hall as I was , and this incredibly sounded so gay to me. What happened to the girls? I mean, having a conversation with a dude long enough to cure momentary boredom sounded so homo and poofy. For heaven sake, I've resided in the male hostel for over a year. And I can handle a conversation with any type of guy in those situations. Guess now is time to break the limits.
Not too long from when I was thinking about this, I sighted a girl whom I assumed to be coming from First Gate. By now, I had stood up from my seat and paced about the free area of the hall. My mind was praying loudly that CBN becomes her destination. She approached closely, and my heart thumped loudly in my chest. I don’t know what it was. Was it excitement or was it fear? What particularly was I excited about? And what precisely was I afraid of.?
Well, finding out was exactly what I had intentions of. She was still walking towards my direction. I watched her closely. Soon enough I felt this surge of pleasure creep inside me as she came. I’ve never known her. I haven’t met her before. The only thing we had in common was that she was in the same place as I was. From afar, she looked pretty. My eyes strayed down a little. She was wearing this red top dotted with black patterns. Down below, she had this tight navy blue jean that almost glued to her contours. I followed the contours carefully and damn! My visual reflexes were beginning to sound perfect.
She had it in the right places...but I was wrong to look. The African Society practically makes a man really dishonest to his needs. The African Society allows a woman to look appealing. It gives thumbs-up to the African woman to make her body the leading light of many eyes. From Anambra to Kogi, to Lafia to Ikot Ekpene - they all look very alluring.
But for the African man, the procedure is tweaked. He is meant to look but not touch. He is meant to touch but not touch too much. If he touches too much, he shouldn't go down there. All the future holds for the African man is rules, rules, rules. Unwritten though, but if he falls short of them, he is labeled as spoilt or worse still a pervert.
So here was I- the African man in an African situation. About to approach an African woman who understands the African situation too. Here am I too, still waiting for her to come towards CBN hall. But she wasn't .Obviously. She deviated her direction.
TO BE CONTINUED
by Ema Matata (300L Medicine) @emamatata
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