WHAT DID MY NEIGHBOUR COOK? (Faction)

There is no gainsaying that all sorts of things are found on campus—from girls who wear extremely short dresses to boys who can eat anything, just anything, to last a day longer. On the latter, for instance, I was amazed, if not bemused, this evening at what my neighbour, an Engineering student, "cooked" as food. If it's a dish that actually exists, you will help me find out.

This evening, my neighbour came back from classes looking hungry and tired (which I must say has been his usual countenance because of what I may call his unusually 'big size'). He quickly made for his kitchen, which is detached from the room, even before he entered his room! He grabbed a pot, poured some rice in it, added some water and dropped it atop his gas burner. After it had simmered for some time, he brought the pot down and poured the rice into a bowl.

Before you begin to ask how I got to follow his moves this far, let me provide the answer. I love food. So immediately my neighbour made for his kitchen I became interested in whatever he was doing, consciously or unconsciously. I was actually (coughs) reading outside before my neighbour came back. Guess the text? It was Prof. Okoh's Preface to Oral Literature, a text my colleagues UNANIMOUSLY agreed, needs a 101% concentration level if you are to grasp its content. I stress UNANIMOUSLY. My class has not been always unanimous in its decision-making.  The Course Rep. saga in our freshman's year that caused a feud that has prolonged to our final year, is a perfect instance of the discord that has characterised my class. So when I say we unanimously agreed on Prof. Okoh's text, it calls for a celebration; because it's about the second case we have had a unanimous opinion--the first being that Michael Science (my class boy) is indisputably the most talented.

My neighbour poured the rice back into the pot, added the quantity of water am sure goes well above the rice and puts it atop the gas burner again. At this point he recognises my presence. 'Boss goodevening,' he said making a mock salute.

 'I see you sir,' I replied.

'I been no see you.'

'The hunger no go allow you na.'

We, or maybe he, talked, for the next ten minutes or so, using pidgin. He said so much in that short while. He talked about the high level of corruption in the university. From how he was 9th best Basic student in his pre-degree year and was nearly short changed by the system. He had opted for EE and was given Physics. He claimed he took the fight to the DVCs' office before it was resolved. He moved on to how 'sorting' was rife in his department and his growing loss of confidence in the academia. On this, I quite agreed with him. We have gone so far in the wrong way that we want, or rather wish, it changes to become the right way; never wanting to make that necessary, sacrosanct U-turn. Whatever that has thrived in the education system in the last decade or so, has been hugely in spite of the education system than because of it. So, on corruption, I did agree with him.

After ten minutes, my neighbour went back to the kitchen to serve me, in a gold platter the most shocking food of my over two-decade-old life. As I looked, my neighbour added some salt to the rice. He turned to me to further the discussion, but I pretended the reading muse was falling in their numbers. He went back to his "cooking". He added four cubes of Royco Maggi, then four tea spoonful of ground pepper and stirred. Four! In less than ten minutes, whatever he was preparing was finally done. He turned off the burner.

Incredible!  I had to quickly run into my room before he could say 'Boss come chop!'

'I rather soak my garri in peace than eat that and divide my stomach into pieces!' I thought to myself. My attention went back to the text which I still held, with my middle finger placed between two pages to mark where I had stopped. I looked at where I was reading before that distraction and it was where Prof. Okoh was talking about one "Historico-geographical approach", and for sure, it was all Greek to me. I closed the book for the sixth time that day, picked up my phone and dialled my girlfriend's number to know what she cooked. These days, the proverb "a man's heart is in his stomach" has gained more credence, and become more credulous.