FUNNY TALES OF AN ABU JAMBITE

By Abdullahi Haruna Haruspice

Funny experience of an ABU jambite! Life indeed is a puzzle and a box of intrigues. I remember with nostalgia when I was offered admission into Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria to study Mass Communication.

I jumped, sang, and danced to my luck, that at last, I was an undergraduate of the largest university in Africa, south of the Limpopo and north of the Caribbean, a cosmopolitan of sort and the foundation of what modern Nigeria should be.

The eve of my departure was so solemn and emotional at home, I was prayed for and reminded of the age long cliché ‘remember the son of whom you are’.

You needed to see my luggage as I arrived the magnificent main gate. What greeted me first were faces of mischief and scorn from the most dreaded security guards.

One asked, ‘my friend, are you coming to school with your whole household?’ He wasn’t to be blamed though because I was fully loaded and armed with assorted bags of garri, rice, beans and kuli kuli.

At the hostel of the popular Bakassi Hall, it took the intervention of the hall administrator to avert what would had became my first fight as my roommates bitterly objected to my bag occupying every corner of the room. Least I forget, we were 11 occupants plus to five squatters!

My Abu jambite experience the following day as I began my registration process was even more amusing. Happy that I escaped the certificate verification exercise, from no where came a student who introduced himself as an official of MACOSA, demanding I pay N600.00 as MACOSA due. In my innocence, I asked if Awilo Longomba was coming, as that was the hype era of MAKOSA music.

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He exploded into a thunderous laughter that attracted other students who joined in the free laughter. It was then I was informed that the said due was a departmental commitment for the Mass Communication Student Association (MACOSA) and not the Awilo kind of MAKOSA. You blame me?

The ABU jambite experience that almost got me leaving the school happened at the famous senate building, as I couldn’t afford the unending embarrassments that followed my every action.

I was to submit my file on the eight floor of the building when a student advised I used the elevator instead of the traditional staircase I was used to. Being my first time in an elevator, apprehension took over me; I shut my eyes, clenching my teeth to a convulsive level.

On the third floor, I became dizzy. On the fifth floor, I dared not look down. I leaned on the wall, as everyone seemed to be walking on their heads, gradually, I was drifting into oblivion. I gave out a shout and those around came to my aid and poured water on me.

When I came back to life, I told them my ordeal and strangely laughed at my naivety. Since then, I dare not go near the senate building for any reason! After all, prevention they say is better than a cure.

If you think I was through with my amusing experience of an ABU jambite then you are in for a refresh laugh. My first day in class was very traumatic. Once the lecturer entered the class, I rose to greet him ‘good morning sir’! It hit me hard when I turned to look around and discovered I was the only doing the greeting.

The rest of the students were all seated as they laugh at my naivety. My action was predicated on my secondary school days where you have to greet any teacher that entered your class. Since then, I vowed never to greet my lecturers, even outside the class, after all, once bitten twice shy!

My last experience of an ABU jambite occurred at the popular Kashim Ibrahim Library (KIL). Being my first time in the library, I had read for nearly five hours and felt the urge to ease myself.

Just as I was going out to find where to urinate, the heavens opened up and the rain came in torrents. When I couldn’t bear it anymore, I rushed into the rain and emptied my bladder.

I returned to the library wet and soaked to my undies. A lady asked, ‘you are this wet? I told her my ordeal and exploded in laughter that I should have used the convenience inside the library, that was when it occurred to me that I have been hit again by my village orientation. She laughed with tears coming her silly cheeks as I walked away in shame and self-pity.

Men, to have come from the village are really not easy oh! I’m sure you are laughing your heart out. Mind you, if you did laughed, it means you are equally a village champion because its people like you I had in mind when I drafted this piece. Abi you think say it did happened to me? Then you are dead wrong! Abeg, this was from one of the crazy moments of writing.

This piece was drafted in October 2004 in ABU Zaria. By Abdullahi O.Haruna haruspice