PART ONE
~1.
FRED
The sun was already awake before the students, spilling gold over the cracked pavements of the university.
Keke horns and Danfo calls stitched a chorus outside the gate, but inside, the air hummed with possibility, and pressure.
Morning lectures began not with markers on the white board, but with footsteps pounding across the quadrangle, backpacks swaying like restless drums.
The smell of Akara from the roadside vendor mingled with the scent of new books, and the rustle of dreams not yet fully formed.
Here, ambition wore many faces. The girl who recited line of law beneath the mango tree, the boy whose guitar sang louder than his physics notes, the preacher on the walkway, the hustler selling handouts printed in black and smudge.
In the lecture hall, the fans creaked like tired elders, and professors spoke in riddles of theory and time.
Some students scribbled fiercely, as though their pens could outrun poverty.
Others stared past the windows, toward Lagos traffic, towards the glitter of skyscrapers that promised escape.
At night, the hostel walls kept no secrets. Generators growled like impatient beasts, while laughter and arguments floated across corridors.
Dreams and worries braided themselves together, filling the air with a music that only Lagos students could understand.
It was not just school. It was survival, it was hustle, it was prayer whispered into pillows, it was love written on crumpled lecture notes. And always, the city outside beat its drum, reminding them that this was only the beginning.
Later that night, I laid on my bed trying to get some sleep after burning some candles to make my life better in the future while some students were already asleep grunting like pigs.
Yes, my roommate is a very good example of whom I just described. Can you imagine this young man would neither read nor attend his lectures?
Well, I have done everything possible to help him but he chose a path of destruction.
I rumbled on the bed trying to cover my ears with my pillow but to no avail. It seemed like the noise got worse and worse each time I tried to cover my ears. I quickly stepped out of my bed to take some fresh air through my window. I drew the curtains hanging in front of me to the edge of my left hand side, as I gazed at the light appearing and disappearing from a seven inches candle, up at the other hostel not far from mine. I could see a shadow.
"Wow, so there are people like me who love reading in the night..." I Muttered.
I glanced at the wall clock and it was 3:34am. I watched the flames penetrate through the window, until I saw the flames and the shadow no more. Then i realized that whoever that was, was done for the night. I waited a little longer to know if I could see who it was, or hear a voice at least, but nothing.
Sluggishly, I walked up to Tolu my roommate and tapped him on his shoulder until he sheepishly woke up, looking like someone who had lost his memory.
"Dude, you have been snoring so loudly, and I can't sleep. Do you mind changing your sleeping position?" I asked, feigning anger.
He mopped at me unconsciously for a while before he regained his consciousness, and then laid back on his bed. This time, he didn't snore and I smiled, walking away from him to take my own rest.
Few hours after I slept, I felt a tap on my shoulder again and again. Leaving me with no choice, I forcefully dragged my eyes open. There he stood, with a cup of water in his hand.
"Happy birthday Fred." He said and then poured the water on me, laughing out loud like a madman.
I fumed in anger, but at the same time, I was happy that I made it to my 27th birthday. I had a mixed feeling about what just happened. I wanted to push him down and hit him so bad but for a reason, I couldn't.
I sighed. Dragging myself out from the bed, I walked into the bathroom and urinated the fuse out of my system.
Walking into the room, I shouted at him.
"That's all you know how to do, foolish boy! If I plead with you to stay awake and read all night, you will give me excuses."
Kissing his teeth, "Fred you should know better by now. I hate books and I hate schools. I just want to become a business man and it doesn't require reading". He said.
"It doesn't require reading?" I snapped.
"Yes, it doesn't." He responded foolishly, having no regrets.
I stared at him in disgust, and then realized he needed some help.
"Why are u staring at me like that, like if you want to beat me. Do you want to beat me?" He asked feigning anger.
"Honestly I would If I could, because your head needs to be reset. Dude, you were sent to school to study and become whatever you want and you need to be educated trust me. You cannot become a successful business man without acquiring all the knowledge you need on how to manage, strategize, set goals, earn profits and so on! You need to study hard so you can avoid becoming a business failure." I preached on deaf ears.
"Eh... I know, but I'm blessed naturally by God. I don't need artificial intelligence Fred."
I shook my head, feeling pity for him.
"Then why are you lavishing your parent's money here, pretending you are studying while you're not? Why don't you let them know that you're not interested in learning?" I demanded, trying not to give up on him.
He scoffed, walking around the room, picking and packing some items into his black mini bag.
"And who told you I haven't talked to them about it? I have, countless times. But it seems to me they like wasting their money, so let me help them waste it."
He drew closer to where I stood, patted my shoulder and said,
"See dude, today is Saturday, and I have a lot to tidy. I just woke you up so i could be the first to wish you a happy birthday. I love you man, and I thank you for trying to talk me into attending my lectures and taking my studies seriously. I appreciate you. Do have a nice day, and don't spend your day reading and writing. Make sure you go out, and have some good fun with your friends."
He advised, feeling like an elder brother. What a lost sheep he is. Laugh out loud in my mind.
"Yea, thanks man and be safe too." I replied.
He nodded as he made his way out of the room.
The door slammed gently, not in anger, but in that careless way of someone who had already chosen his path. His laughter still echoed in the corridor-half-hearted, masking the weight of what I had just said.
I had begged him, again, to take his books more seriously. To see beyond the rhythm of parties, the haze of late nights, the endless chase of fleeting thrills.
He had listened, yes. Eyes half open, nodding at intervals, as though my words were songs he already knew but never planned to dance to.
Now the room was empty for me, my books spread like scattered witnesses on the desk.
The silence was loud, filled with hum of the generator outside and the faint smell of suya drifting from the hostel gate.
I sat there, torn between frustration and affection. Because truth is, I loved the boy like a brother. He had been the one to share his sardines with me when my allowance finished too soon.
He was the one who cracked jokes when exams threatened to drown us in our weight. And yet, the same brotherhood made my heart heavy to watch him drift like smoke, carefree, while the fire of tomorrow burned close.
I whispered into the quiet, "God keep him, even if he doesn't see himself yet."
And with that, I picked up my pen. Not because I had stopped caring, but because sometimes love means letting someone walk their road, while you walk yours, praying both will meet again in the light.