Not everyone wishes to be a star, a celebrity or a popular person, most people have got their life planned out but in my own case, I’ve never been sure of what I ever wanted for myself.
I was basically forced to go to school by my parents, although having good grades has never been a problem for me, but deep inside I always knew that I could do better if I was half as serious as I should be.
“JESSY! JESSY!! JESSY!!! YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN ADMISSION TO STUDY LINGUISTICS IN OAU!!!” Those were the words my mum spoke when she saw my admission status. I didn’t bother to check because I didn’t care much for the admission, she was obviously happy as she ran out of my room swiftly as she ran in to go and place a call to my dad who had been out of the country for business.
Daddy always travel often as his job required him to import medical cylinder equipments from Europe, he was mostly away more than he stayed at home with us, sometimes the thought of him having an affair with a white rich woman who has red hair comes to mind. I didn’t know if I should keep on looking forward to him ever returning but as long as he constantly sends money home then I’m fine, mum on the other hand would be heart broken and might even run mad if that ever happens.
My light complexion and smooth skin was just like that of my mum’s making it awkward when I always catch people staring and making eye contact with me anytime I walk on the street, in school, and every other place. It gets frustrating when you are beautiful and every guy fights to get your attention. I’ve learnt that it is one thing to be beautiful and it is another thing to be light skinned and beautiful. Being of average height now makes matters worst as both tall and short guys approach me to tell me “NONSENSE” as I always termed it.
*This is the property of Olubunmi Sanyaolu*
No doubt I was proud and my uncaring attitude about things made it much more obvious, I had been told by a lot of people that there might be a better person in me if I let her out. My pride and beauty gave me my identity as those were the two major descriptions people use to describe me.
Months passed like seconds and the dreaded day of resumption was just a night away, even though mum had bought all things I needed and had helped in packing my bags, I noticed the look in her eyes that brought out a spark of feeling in me. She opened her mouth and the words were struggling to come out.
“Jessy, you know you have to start caring about things as there is a whole new world ahead of you”, mum said, she was almost in tears as she kept on talking, “just have fun and be good”. I didn’t know if those where the kind of advises a parent should give to their child a night before going to school but it actually got through to me. We hugged for a while and then she left my room, those words left me thinking of the possibilities of being a completely different person but as soon as she left, the words and advises followed her.
The journey from Lagos to Ife seemed rather short and as we approached the university gate, there was a nostalgic feeling building up inside me, I kept on telling myself not to feel anything but I still couldn’t help it. It was a rather cold day but I could feel the sweats building up on my forehead and armpit as the anxiety grew. Moving from the school gate to Mozambique hall took forever, as the anxiety grew, I held on to my mum’s hand, I didn’t know why I did but I knew I needed it. Getting to my hall of residence, I said my goodbyes to my mum and the driver as I watched them leave, I felt something drop on my foot and as I looked down, I saw a drop of tear. I quickly wiped my face dry and moved on to whatever it is that I should be doing. I proceeded to my room after registrations which almost took forever, the room didn’t look like what I was expecting but I acted like I didn’t give a damn.
Weeks passed and things were starting to become normal, lectures have started and the constant flow of guys telling me how beautiful I was made me find my beauty as a curse rather than a blessing. I didn’t ask for the figure 8, the big boobs and buttocks but here I am stuck with it.
On this fateful day, mum called and told me something about dad, I had always thought of the possibilities of he ever leaving us but I had never thought it would be this way. He didn’t die or marry a white woman but this is just as bad.
Stay tuned for episode two of “OAU AWARDS: THE STORY”
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