I MET HIM AGAIN

I met him four nights ago along FUTO road, Eziobodo just in front of Ozii plaza.

The time was around 8:10pm.

Despite the late hour, the road was still quite busy.

Students were seen loitering around like sheep without a shepherd.

He had finished buying a few items for dinner and was strolling down to his lodge when I met him.

"Okofor my man, how far na? E don tey wey I see you oo."

I shook his hand as it was a usual norm here while he smiled and replied.

"Anthony my nigga, how you dey na?"

"My man, I just dey oo. E no easy sha."

Meeting him that night was nostalgic as I reminisced about the good times especially when we shared a hostel room.

"That reminds me, I hope your result is out? And I hope you finally made it to first class?"

I observed his countenance.

He was ecstatic. He didn't reply me immediately.

He smiled and replied in a jocular tone, "Tony, you never change. You don come again with these your questions."

Ever since I left the hostel, I seldom met him in school.

I recalled my experiences with him in my freshman days.

We were in hall E, room 300 back then. He had been my bunkmate and though he was a 200 Level student and I was a 100 Level student, we were friends.

Okofo as I fondly called him was a student with a different zeal.

He had this special gift of reading for hours.

I mean it when I say that he can read for over ten hours without standing up to stretch his body. No exaggerations at all.

He was a brilliant student. His first year result had not been good, which was probably because of the stress involved as a freshman.

He learnt his lesson quickly and became determined to graduate with a first class result.

He had all the materials, textbooks, past questions necessary to pass a course. Even if the course was a one-unit course, which was seen as negligible by most, he would put in his very best to pass.

There was a day he surprised us and did what was very unusual.

It was a Sunday afternoon.

I returned from church and I saw him arranging his books, getting ready for the next reading session.

He went downstairs, called a bike man to convey him, his books, his reading table and chair to the convocation ground.

He returned later in the evening and looked exhausted after having buried his eyes in his books for long.

He did this not once. Not twice. Not thrice. It was beginning to look like a new reading pattern he had adopted.

We began making mockery of him before he stopped going as far as convocation ground to read. He changed his tactics thereafter.

He began reading on the staircase or sometimes under the staircase at midnight to avoid distractions.

I learnt a lot from him. He introduced me to the idea of reading at midnight.

After asking him again about his final results, he acquiesced and replied, "Sorry to disappoint you. I didn't graduate with a first class. I made a sharp 2:1. I know I did my best but then, I dropped along the line and my first-year result also affected my CGPA."

I sarcastically chipped in, "Chai, so after all those your long jacking, you no still comot with first class. Omo, FUTO tough ooo. Na im be say people wey no dey read like you no get hope again na."

In his characteristic manner, he smiled again as a response to my jovial jibe.

I continued, "But I think say you nack A for your I.T defense and final year project? Wetin happen na abi dem no boast your GP?" At that point I did not still believe that he missed that first-class result.

"You see eh, na from year one wey person suppose start dey read hard o. The higher you go, the tougher it becomes. I know you are good with these current year ones, just find a way to advise them to start on time to work hard if they truly want to graduate with a good result,” he emphatically said while I listened with keen interest. He continued, “To God be the glory, I am happy with my result. It was a product of hard work. Again, I graduated as the third best in my department. Even though I missed first class, I am still happy with my result and I encourage you to work hard in this your final year."

His words were really encouraging to so I made a request.

"My nigga, I hope you wouldn't mind if I write about this experience I had with you tonight?"

He chuckled as he gave me a friendly jab on my left arm then answered, “This guy, you never repent from all those your long essays on Facebook. No wahala sha. You can write but no put my full name oo"

We discussed other issues aside academics before he signalled me that he needed to take his leave.

I shook his hand firmly again, wished him well and promised to keep in touch with him.

As he walked away, I looked at him again and I was once more challenged to work hard because there are no limitations to what one can achieve in life.

Just then, I checked my time. It was around 8:55pm.

Goodness me!

I needed to go to my little apartment. Time had gone far already. I shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with a few friends I met along the road.

As I walked back home, I felt challenged and determined.

FUTO.