It was cold and tranquil that night. The semester had begun only two weeks ago so it was normal for every student to be curled up in their beds in the middle of a rainy night.
The room was typical of the average Nigerian university dorm. It was lined with nine double bunk beds on each side, leaving in between a narrow cemented path that had eroded.
The dorm accommodated a combination of male students in their teens and early twenties.
Just suddenly, the stillness of the night was ambushed by a noisy choking cough as though the person was going to spew his intestines.
Etoka, a 300-level student of Theatre Arts, lying on a lower bunk gradually grew awake.
He hadn’t only heard the sound piercing through his sleep but also felt a vibration. His eyelids flickered gently, one of his feet in reality and the other in dreamland.
He was just about to yield to the enticing caresses of the cold night when the cough erupted continuously this time.
Startled, he figured if he was able to feel the impact so much, then it had to be his bunkmate, Jerry.
Jerry and Etoka now in their third year had been bunkmates since their first year. They had now become close buddies.
“Guy, what’s the matter? Be like cold entered your body?” Etoka asked, glancing at Jerry who was still coughing dedicatedly. “Let me get water bro,” he added and hurried off.
While Jerry continued with his incessant and worsening cough, the boys were alerted one after another, with some of them moving toward Jerry.
“Ah! Who be that self? This cough serious oh,” the voice came dragging in the air. It was Kola, the oldest student, hence nicknamed Don.
Everyone in the room met him there because he had been in school for many years due to several outstanding courses. Nonetheless, he walked with high shoulders and talked lousily.
Jerry sat groggily trying to catch some breath while Etoka tried to feed him some water.
“Aha! I think he has run into some recess and I only hope it’s not ephemeral. My paranoia for nocturnal disasters can only get worse now, goodness!,” said the student they called “The-law.”
Only a few students knew his real name. He was a presumptuous and overbearing Law student who came into the room in his second year inundated with the ambition of becoming a SAN (Senior Advocate Nigeria) someday.
“How useful is this statement right now huh,” Toju, who hated the mere sight of The-law enquired disgustedly.
Toju was an English student whose intonation of words landed as smoothly and nicely as his chocolate face.
He felt The-law was too arrogant to even exist. He constantly reminded him that several students never made it through Law School and so he wasn’t sure of his fate yet.
What drove Toju mad the most was how some of the boys would be having an argument about politics or governance, and then one of them would say “Oya1 wait, let’s settle this argument now, where’s The-law?” and they would beckon on him.
As The-law would walk haughtily to “pass his judgment” while adjusting his spectacles egoistically every second, Toju would chew hard, suppressing the craving to rip him apart.
“A recess means a period of rest my young man friend,” replied The-law.
“Really? Who’s asking about what–”
“Hey! You can look up the other words and thank me later alright?” The-law intercepted brashly.
“Your brain needs a hard reset man! You should be the one choking to death!” Toju replied and Jerry erupted into another section of resounding coughs.
“Una2 two no just work. Please shift from here with your madness, this is not the time for stupid arguments!” fired Etoka.
“Give Jerry palm oil, the cough go clear,” suggested Bosco, who was Don’s right-hand man and partner in crime.
No one paid him any attention. They knew him and Don to be clowns most of the time, making crude jokes and taunting everyone with their sarcastic remarks.
“That’s true though. Palm oil has proven over years of empirical analysis to be a viable poison neutralizer,” Amos, a final-year Microbiology student said assuredly.
“Poison? Be like bomb dey3 your head oh!” Etoka intercepted.
“Who ever said Jerry was poisoned now?” asked another student and there was an eruption of argument.
“Easy people! Easy! When we scientists say poison, we do not necessarily mean a concussion from your village. Poison is anything that can harm your body. An expired drug or unwashed fruits can be poison alright?” Osas, a Biochemistry student added and the fuss began to quell.
“Thank you, bro,” Amos felt rescued. He and Osas often teamed up to enhance the importance of the Faculty of Science.
Sometimes Amos would frantically scream out a long big name when any of the students forgot to rinse a spoon before scooping garri4 or milk with it.
When asked what the word meant, he would say it was the name of a deadly microorganism, expounding on the year it was discovered and how experiments had shown that it was abundant in unwashed cutleries.
Then Osas would commence a boring session about the pathology of diseases the microorganism could cause.
“Oya now, let’s give him the palmi,” Don said.
Etoka rushed to his cupboard to get a bottle of palm oil. He tried pouring some into Jerry’s mouth but Jerry only had a little sip and resumed coughing.
At this time all eighteen boys in the dorm labeled “Room 13” with black paint surrounded Jerry.
No, seventeen of them actually; the one named Chuka remained on his bed, lying on his back with eyes wide open and gazing into nothing.
Chuka was the quintessence of mystery. Since he came into the room in his third year and at that time in his fifth, he hadn’t had one tangible conversation with any of the boys.
A total loaner.
He spent his day studying, practicing his Engineering drawings, or lying quietly. Chuka had a huge semblance to an albino, only that his complexion was more red than yellow and he had stable pupils.
He also had a firm body build and serious demeanor when he walked that commanded both awe and avoidance.
“Onions! Onions! It works like mad, my mama used to use it steady,” said the youngest boy in the room, a fifteen years old fresher.
“Which onions? It’s garlic I know. Once he chews it and drinks water everything will clear,” said another student.
“Hmm… the one I know of is bitter kola and tom-tom, or even bitter leaf water with plenty salt inside,” added another.
As they stood suggesting what each person thought or heard to be an antidote for cough, a deafening thunder struck and the downpours intensified.
Jerry intoned some words while Etoka drew nearer to get a good listen; everyone, watching them closely.
“What did he say?” enquired Toju.
“His chest… he said his chest is hitting hard,” Etoka said frantically.
Jerry began to grunt, holding his chest as he drew shortened breaths. All the boys grew very petrified.
To Be Continued…
- Oya- call to action
- Una- “you people”
- Dey- to be
- Garri- Cassava flakes
