See me see wahala O!

I would typically not go to the market and get myself a pair of shorts but my aunty Chinwe got me a pair and I felt obligated to wear them. Moreover they were good-looking designer jeans shorts and wear them I sure did.

I don't wear shorts on weekdays before I earn an asinine comment from one of my lecturers so I just stick to wearing them on weekends.

Today is saturday. Weekend. I was wearing my shorts, T-shirt and ACG sandals. I taught some folks Java programming, hosted my radio show, taught some more Java and went to eat in the company of one of my students. On our way back, this guy attacked my dressing. Said I looked boyish. I didn't take offense but then he started adding other annoying things. See me see wahala o! I started defending myself o! (My mistake;I should have just shut up). He obviously had a problem with short-wearing but why will someone try to enforce his standards and principles on me considering we have different backgrounds. Meanwhile I don't try to make his leather pam slippers sound like a capital crime considering I'm sworn off them. And for goodness sake, what is wrong with wearing shorts on a saturday. Not like I was going anywhere special with them. Infact, before I went for fellowship later that afternoon, I characteristically changed into a button-down, long sleeved shirt and plain trousers. People ehn.

Tomorrow, I'll be teaching him and others Java again. I'm really considering wearing the same shorts and t-shirt with up-turned collar...I wish I could also grow an afro overnight. What do yu think?


Getting Slapped

Sometime on the 9th of November, 1986, I was born. Good thing my head wasn't too big at birth; would have compelled my mum to do her first and only CS. As the years progressed, my parents decided education was the right way to go; I showed very little aptitude for sports, music or crime. I attended primary school (5/6th primary school, actually), secondary school and as God and JAMB would have it, I gained admission into the university.

The first time I visited the school, I hadn't really gotten in. My sister was there already and informed my overjoyed parents that I gained admission but I had to bring some documents to solidify things. Anyways when I arrived with the kain documents, I had to perch with a cousin, Cigar who was living in a boys' quarter in the staff residential areas.

That night me and Cigar took a stroll but before we started out, he branched a neighbour's house and picked up some company; someone I'll continually refer to as mo. Mo eventually became my current roommate, closest friend and cousin to almost-girlfriend.

But I didn't move into mo's family BQ with him in my first year; Since my 3rd year, I would spend half the semester in my hostel room and half in mo's BQ. In most cases, I would start with sleepovers, then sleep- and bath-overs, then I'll bring in a shirt, then another and before long, I would basically be living there. Now, I'm no parasitic squatter; mo asked for all this so we could work together, I just never moved in permanently cos my parents didn't agree.

I forgot to mention that sometime in my 3rd year, mo's father became a deputy vice-chancellor of the university. The relevance of this? You'll see. In my final year, I informed (as opposed to asked) my parents that I was moving in permanently with mo and I didn't bother paying for hostel accommodation...at first; because before long mo's mum called me and told me to get my hostel room so one of their young in-laws that wanted to focus for his JAMB preparations could stay there. I obeyed. If na yu, yu go disobey your landlady? I paid for the accommodation with money she provided, did all the appropriate signing in procedures and the young lad started staying there.

Shortly after the boy came to complain to me that someone else had been assigned to the exact same space. Me, I carried my two legs and went to ask the hall supervisor why. The kain hall supervisor said I had been bounced. Of course, I didn't find that very funny and insisted on knowing why. The next thing I knew was a hot slap. Yes yu heard me - SLAP. Not slap (abi pat) on the back, not friendly slap on the knee, not tap, pap or crap but SLAP. I was shocked, shaken and saw stars.

Now yu my readers are probably thinking:
"Bighead deserved this, why did he tear the man's shirt".
I did not touch him, much less his shirt
"Bighead deserved this, why did he curse the man mother with the worst kind of Igbo yabs". I spoke plain english addressing my current problem and none other
"Bighead deserved this, why did he raise his voice". Before the slap, my voice was loud enough for just the two of us to hear.

My crime according to him, "...disturbing...". I got slapped for disturbing. As far as I was concerned, I was slapped cos he was taller and some folks think I have a baby-face (a cute baby-face actually *wink*).

After the slap, I raked...oh my...I didn't even know I had that much rake in me cos I had to be physically restrained to stop me from shouting the roof of the hall down. Afterwards, I reported the incident straight to my landlord and landlady (DVC and DVC's wife, remember).

Have yu ever heard the term drinking someone else's panadol. My landlady drank my panadol in this case. We started at the dean of student's affairs who gave me a new room and gave my landlady permission to do whatever she wanted to the hall supervisor that "...he has been giving too much trouble...". From there we went to the university's chief security officer and were about moving on to the Police to get some policemen to arrest and lock up the hall supervisor for unprovoked assault when the CSO asked that we let him handle the case. All the while, I was feeling like a don getting my wounded ego healed. The rest of the story, you can predict.

In my school, the non-academic staff like this fellow are a huge part of the school's problem. I hope they keep slapping people so they keep getting put in their place. My cheek still hurts though. Do yu know any cheek massage therapist?


Blogging Again?

Where do I start? Its been so long since I sat down to type a blog post. So much has happened since then; I became departmental president, attempted to build a chess-playing robot, made friends with lecturers, got an almost-girlfriend (familiar with the term?), got slapped by a hall supervisor, moved out of the hostel, killed one scorpion, hosted a radio show, graduated from the university and lost on the stock market. Where do I start?


I'll leave old gist behind and start with wats new (except if one of the "topics" above is too juicy for you to resist asking).

Wats new?

Thats for my next post. For now, I'm having a raging headache, neckache, elbowache and heartache (I know, I don come again). Don't mind me on the last ache.

For this post, I was just ensuring I could still type in English (C, Java and MATLAB have been linqua franca of recent).I think I did pretty well; even Engr Anyaka cannot give me a 'B' on this post. Did I ever mention how Engr Anyaka denied me and the rest of the class A's on a THREE UNIT LOAD? and gave me worries for most of my final yr? Gist for another day.

For now, have a lovely day; breathe sparingly (there is an ongoing oxygen scarcity), don't stare at the hot girl...or guy that passes by (or stares at you), live...ok, I accept I'm blabbing.

No more