Idahosa: Part 2 – Moving Day

There are certain moments in life that make you feel like an adult. Getting admitted into university is one, moving into your hostel is another. At least that’s what I thought.

The reality was that by 10 a.m. on moving day, I was standing beside my father’s car while my mother supervised the loading of enough luggage to suggest I was relocating permanently to another country.

“Mummy,” I said, watching another bag appear from nowhere. “I’m going to school, not exile.”

She ignored me and handed another bag to my father. My father accepted it with the expression of a man who had long accepted that some battles could not be won.

My younger sister, Adesuwa, sat comfortably in the back seat enjoying the entire spectacle.
“I hope they have storage rooms in the hostel,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because Mummy is carrying half the house.”

I should have known better than to laugh. My mother immediately turned towards us.
“Since both of you know so much, carry the remaining bags.”
That ended the comedy.

The drive from home to campus felt strangely emotional. For months, I had dreamed about university.
Freedom.
Independence.
Hostel life.
No curfews.
No parents asking where I was going every fifteen minutes.
No Adesuwa entering my room without knocking.
Life.
Real life.

Yet as we approached the campus gates, I found myself becoming nervous. Not scared, just aware that something was changing. The campus was buzzing. 
Parents.
Students.
Cars.
Boxes.
Buckets.
Mattresses.
Suitcases.
People shouting directions.
People looking lost.
People pretending not to look lost.
The entire place felt like organized confusion.

“Welcome to university,” my father said. The way he said it made it sound less like a greeting and more like a warning.

Finding my hostel was an adventure on its own, finding my room was another, and finding my bed nearly became a spiritual exercise. By the time we eventually located it, my father looked ready for retirement.

“This is it?” Adesuwa asked.
I glared at her.

My mother had already started arranging my things.
Bed sheet.
Pillow.
Food.
Drinks.
Toiletries.
More food.
Additional food.
Emergency food.
Food for the food.

Meanwhile my father began inspecting the room like a government agency. He checked the windows, the door, the ceiling, the electrical sockets, and everything in between. I suspected he was secretly looking for reasons to take me back home.

While we were talking, another familiar face suddenly appeared at the doorway.

“Efe!”
The fool grinned.

“Look who finally made it.”

We hugged. Not because we were emotional, but because that’s what guys do when they’re trying to hide that they’re slightly emotional.

Efe was staying in another room on the same floor, which was perfect. Or dangerous, or probably both. My father immediately recognized him.

“Good,” he said. “You two can watch each other.”

Efe and I exchanged a glance, neither of us correcting him. The truth was that we were probably the last people who should be trusted to supervise one another.

As the afternoon stretched on, the moment I had been avoiding finally arrived, my parents had to leave.

My mother gave instructions, many instructions, enough instructions to last an entire semester.

My father gave advice, life advice, academic advice, financial advice, and future advice. Then he placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m proud of you.”
That surprised me because my father wasn’t usually a man of many emotional speeches.
“You’ve worked hard to get here.”
I nodded, suddenly finding it difficult to speak.
“Make good choices.”

I nodded again.

Adesuwa stepped forward. For one beautiful moment, I thought she might say something emotional. Something heartfelt and something touching. Instead she smiled.
“If you like, let them catch you sleeping during lectures,” she said as she quickly gave me a hug and then entered the car.

Yea..yea…I love you too.

I watched the car disappear through the hostel gate. For the first time all day, everything became quiet.
No parents.
No family.
No familiar voices.
Just me.

I went back to my room and met a tall guy arranging clothes in a wardrobe. He looked up and smiled.
“Guy, you’re lucky. Your family actually helped you move in.”

I laughed.
“Trust me, I didn’t have a choice.”

He introduced himself as Musa, also a fresher studying Business Administration. He seems easy-going and friendly. The kind of person who immediately made you feel comfortable.

Within five minutes, he had already informed me about the best places to eat, where to buy cheap provisions, which hostel guards to avoid annoying, and where students went when they wanted to disappear from campus.

I was impressed, this guy had information. Useful information at that. 
Now, the chaos begins.