Unlimited Freedom II

It has being three years since you graduated from secondary school. You had written three UTME and two post UTME exams ever since. None of them hit their intended target as none yielded admission. It then became clear to you that admission into a Nigerian university can be catalyzed with money and that admission is heavily based on connections rather than brilliancy.

At last in the fourth year, you were able to wiggle yourself to study Philosophy rather than your desired Law in UNN (UNIVERSITY OF NIGERIA). You were very happy about the admission that you would later reckon in life that those three gloomy years you sat at home were the worst times of your life. Your parents didn’t tell you much, they were sure you could handle yourself after all you were old enough to live your life. The beards growing on your chin only buttresses that fact.

Your first year in the university went like a dove on as sunny day; so fast that you almost wouldn’t notice it. You had good dreams and you kept little friends. Your condescending attitude buoyed your study. You read and reread your books till the pages tore and turned brownish. Kolanuts were constantly found in your pockets, not because you love the bitter taste, but because the caffeine contained therein kept you awake. You preferred it to coffee or Lipton both which you hated with passion. Your exams went swiftly; at least you were happy with yourself. You could imagine how it would be for many students who refuse to come to lectures or study hard. There was one of them who always have a unique Mohawk hairstyle. He once came to you and offered his hands in friendship since both of you were carrying sizeable beards on your chins; you declined because he didn’t show a single sign of someone responsible. He henceforth didn’t greet you when he came to class which was usually once in about four weeks.

You were happy when you resumed for the 2nd year. As you arrived at the guys hostel, your hostel mates rush to ransack your luggage for bread and popcorns in which they hoped you brought for them. Finding disappointment they turned to the carton of indomie you especially asked your mother to buy for you when she went to Aba market a week before. You had hoped the indomie would last you for a month. You got red in your face, before you could protest, everyone was out and an empty carton of indomie was lying on your bare concrete room floor. Your anger soon boiled out knowing the fact that there was atonement in many students who were yet to resume for the session.

The following morning, you woke up well and got dressed looking smart in a blue stripped white long sleeve T-shirt atop a black pant before matching the combination with a black leather shoe. The only thing that differentiated you from the many university graduates seeing for job was the fact that you didn’t tuck in your T-shirt. You hated tucking with passion.

As you neared the huge campus gate, you see many students with surprised looks in their eyes. You can tell from their dressing that they were Jambites. Those newly admitted students who were novice in everything. A year ago, you were like that, staring at every structure as you entered the campus for the first time. Those days were truly gone. Now you have blended into the system and you gladly held the invisible tag of being a satellite.

Lecture soon commenced and as usual they were as they have always been; an overcrowded class, tiny writing board and lazy lecturers. Your advisor soon distributes the result of your previous semester and you had a total cumulative of 3.05 out of an obtainable point of 5. It was lower than your expectation, but you were thankful that you weren’t part of the 78 students who were advised to withdraw due to a very bad result mostly with a cumulative ranging from 0 — 0.98. You saw the Mohawk guy that day and you were sure he was part of the 78 students.

You almost fainted when he showed you his result. He had an impressive 4.25 out of 5. So much wasted on the grams of Kolanuts you had chewed and the endless nights spent in the library, not to talk of the dreadful panama-like mosquitoes that feasted on your blood in the lecture theatre on the nights the library didn’t open. So much for your aspirations to attain a first-class; it is not over yet you thought as you laid down your head to sleep that night.

When you woke up the following morning, you had cemented in your mind that you would seek the friendship of the guy with the Mohawk hairstyle, and you would beg him to teach you his studying methods. Even if he didn’t look responsible, he has a responsible result you thought. The Mohawk guy didn’t come to school the following day or the next. You had to wait endlessly for two weeks before he showed up in class. Asking his hands in friendship was the easy; at least easier than asking a fair lady out. He accepted you like a prodigal son and you were soon introduced to his clique, and within a short while, you began to move together like 5 and 6.

It has being a week now since you attended classes. You couldn’t take it anymore so you opted out in the second week during a snooker game with him at the popular bar in Nsukka called T-senz. He guessed your thoughts right and he sat you down. He told you about Bill Gates and Mark Zugerberg, both he told you opted out of school, but are now swimming in tons of money that they can decide to build mansions with plain money. Who cares about education or what you know, the end result is all that matters.

In no time your Mohawk friend taught you all you needed to know. You learnt that he had under his arm many lecturers whom he pays off with cash. Soon you realize to actualize your dreams you needed access to more money. Money to move with his clique, money to pay off lecturers, money to meet the need of the new girlfriend you met last week when the clique went to T- senz. You only told her that your father owned six petrol stations and she was reeling all over you.
Your civil servant father couldn’t make up with the new monthly increment you asked for. Its N10, 000 or nothing he said. You knew he was serious; after all you were not the one he had to take care of. You still had four younger ones in secondary school. You meet your Mohawk friend and told him about this money problem of yours. He introduced you to betting, giving you a starting capital of N20, 000. Life is all about chances he says.

Luck seems to ride with you and you began your little betting career. You opted for Nairabet where you predicted English premier league matches. Every match you placed your bet on was won and in no time, you became a thousanaira. You were able to financially run the double life you kept.

In no time you began to increase your wager, from a starting N1000, you had moved to N10, 000. The money was rolling in and you were spending it real big. You could no longer spend a night without drinking beer with the clique at T-senz. You bought every new customised that was out on sale in the campus, your fashion trend was on the high side. You failed in no term if you are referred to as big boy. So sweet is life you thought.

The exams were approaching. Champion league final was also on the line; Chelsea vs Bayern Munich. Your father had just sent you your tuition fees. Your spending list was on the high side now. You wanted to pay off lecturers, pay tuition fees and still maintain your high life. You gave no two thoughts, your tuition fees was the wager. Your calculation was that Bayern Munich would win, you were almost placing your bet on them when you heard news that a popular pastor has prophesied that Chelsea would win. You put your faith on that and placed all your money on the bet.

You were with your clique in T-senz when Chelsea won the champions league. You were very happy that you ordered a drink for everyone in the bar. You had just won a cumulative of N200, 000. Your ecstasy knew no bounds.

The following morning, you dressed up with your backpack and went to the ATM to confirm your account for the money. As you input your card, a figure appeared wielding a Walter pistol. He told you to withdraw all the money in your account and hand it over to him. It is said he who hold the gun, wields the power; you didn’t hesitate, and with a shaky hand you pressed your pin and withdrew all the money you had in your account. The guy soon moved to escape in a four door sedan car that had just parked near the ATM; you come to your senses and calculated the entire loss chasm you were about to be thrown into. You move to have a late fight with him, but it proved suicidal as he fired two shots at you. They both hit your chest and your thigh respectively and you fell into the ground. The vehicle revved to life and before its door closed, you saw your friend with the Mohawk hairstyle sitted at the back of the car. As the vehicle moved forward, one more shot was heard just in time as you raised your head to see the incoming bullet. Heavens knows you are DEAD.

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