Rostrum
I was conspicuously a vibrant and outspoken but gentle chap as an undergraduate of one of the revered varsities situated in the southeastern part of Nigeria, between 2003 and 2008. Being a Lagos brought-up, I found it more convenient to spend my school holidays in the ancient city where I had countless reliable friends as well as relatives.
During one of my semester breaks, I had travelled to the said territory, as usual, to have fun with my childhood contemporaries who could not apparently wait to have my presence.
On my arrival to my destination by land, at about 6:30pm on a Thursday, I was sure penniless that I needed to visit the nearest available bank first thing the following day towards making a withdrawal from the account I maintained, via an Automated Teller Machine (ATM). I needn’t bother making the proposed transaction that same day since it was already late, and perhaps my chief host wouldn’t want me to further undergo stress after all the hurdles encountered on my way. It’s noteworthy that at the time, the Point of Sale (POS) machine, which is now very popular and ubiquitous, wasn’t in vogue.
First thing the following day being Friday, as planned, I got dressed and headed for one of the commercial banks in my vicinity. On reaching the area in question having stepped out from the cab popularly known as ‘Keke’, I caught sight of a very frightening queue whose members were expected to make use of the ATM; it was not unlike the Nigeria’s Independence anniversary parade that took place at Eagle’s Square in Abuja, the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) penultimate year. Funnily enough, there were about five ATMs mounted at the arena but only one was seemingly functional.
Beloved, I was therein bewildered while contemplating on the next action to take. I took a deep breath and hastily exhaled the gas while standing aloof from afar watching each member of the pathetically-looking queue moved like a millipede that was deeply drenched, as I was yet to make up my mind whether or not to follow suit, or consider going to another bank located about fifteen kilometres (15km) away. Each of the thoughts emanating from my smart mind amounted to fear of the unknown. First, I wasn’t sure and could not imagine how long one had to wait if he joined the sluggishly-moving train. Secondly, I was still unsure if the ATM of the next bank was functional at the moment since it was no longer news that most ATMs mounted at various banks across Nigeria were just for decoration’s sake. Thirdly, assumed that the other bank’s ATM was functional, I was not in good position to foresee the length of the queue I would encounter over there. Hence, I was placed in dilemma.
At last, having taken a well-thought conclusion, I joined the intimidating queue. Mind you; while I stood aloof watching the queue in awe, about twenty persons had already walked in and queued up. In other words, I was now standing behind those who came after my arrival; acknowledgement of such fact alone widened the volume of my perturbed mood and annoyance. Notwithstanding, I told myself to wait patiently till the end since ostensibly there was no other choice, coupled with the fact that I was desperately in need of cash because my humble pocket was damn wretched.
Before I realized it, one hour had come and graciously passed, yet there were about fifteen individuals to make use of the machine before it gets to my turn. I quickly looked around and smiled inwards; rather than being more anxious, I was consoled that over forty persons were standing behind me. Minutes later, I was eventually the fifth person to transact with the machine; but at this point, the network became so slow that it took an individual over fifteen minutes to scale through their transaction. Thus, I became aggravated unannounced.
“What kind of country is this?” I murmured.
“I am sorry,” said the young lady who stood directly behind me.
I turned and looked at her. “You need not be, my dear,” I replied, got my eyes fixed on hers. “Because you are equally in the same shoes with me,” I added in a jiffy.
“But I can see, you are more disturbed than me,” she observed.
I smiled. “Really?” I said and turned completely to her as if I wasn’t in need of the ATM anymore.
She was obviously pretty – tall, slim and dark – clad in a purplish gown designed specifically for a red-carpet occasion.
“Of course,” she responded. “It’s obvious.”
“How?” I enquired. “Why do you think so?”
“It is written all over you.”
“Hmm..” I murmured.
“You don’t need to be surprised,” she urged. “Anyone around would notice that you can’t wait any longer.”
Her outspokenness further attracted me to her person. By this moment, I was the third person in the queue to use the seeming ‘god-forsaken’ machine that had kept me waiting impatiently for almost two hours.
“You must be a student?” I thought aloud, still facing her but not wholly anymore. “I mean, an undergraduate?” I hurriedly supplemented.
“Why did you say so,” inquired she.
“While looking at your level of composure,” I said, twisted myself. “One would know you are not from the gutter.”
“Really..?”
“Yea.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint you.” quoth she. “I graduated from the university about four years ago.”
I was immediately shocked over the information, though was still of the view she was merely pulling my leg.
“I am currently on my P.H.D,” she added frankly.
The last notice brought another shocker. I stared at her again and again as if I was yet to notice her presence. Going by her countenance and stature, she could not be more than 22-year-old. I was then 23 but in my fourth year in the university, studying a five-year course.
“Are you sure about this?” I managed to utter, remained jittery.
“Of course,” she frantically replied. “How could I lie with such thing?”
I strongly looked at her in silent awe.
“I studied Mass Communication in Convent University,” she rode on. “I did my Masters in California University.”
I shook my head uncontrollably. “Please,” I uttered. “How old are you?”
“I am 21.” She answered.
“Oh my God..!” I exclaimed as I marveled over the challenging revelation.
All eyes were shifted to my side. At this time, I was the next person to use the ATM, so the crowd thought I was grateful it eventually got to my turn. I hastily backed her, shifting my attention to the awaited machine as I pondered over the uncommon information.
I felt like strangulating myself since at 23, I was still struggling to acquire a first degree; whilst at her 21, she was already undergoing her doctoral degree programme. However, I had to console myself with the fact that we all were created with different destinies.
Beloved, worse still, few seconds later as I was damn ready to make use of the ATM, the ‘fucking’ machine stopped working abruptly. The unimaginable circumstance took my person to a slight state of coma.
To be continued, please!
Fred Nwaozor
frednwaozor@gmail.com
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