There are many faces. Bird-like ones. Tiger face. Cat face. Mother used to
say that those girls with cat faces are witches driven by cat spirits. And
they bring misfortunes unto their lover’s abode.
I love University of Ibadan girls, and they love themselves though not all
The first girl I chatted with on U.I soil was a slim dark balloon -cheek
chic I met in the University clinic.
Jaja clinic stood on plots of land, refusing to pose at the frontal
position of Queen’s hall.
The young Nurse had examined my blood pressure, then she would surrender a
test tube to my hands and direct her plump left of a hand towards my left
‘We need your thing.’
I peered down at my trousers and back again at the Nurse.
‘I do not have low sperm count_!’ I pronounced with all sincerity and
The three other Nurses and their students would laugh aloud. Some would
raise their left of a hand, another the right hands in excitement. Legs
went up. A student’s cheek blew up like a mechanically blown balloon.
‘I mean your Urine,’ the young Nurse clarified.
I did not laugh nor frown. Blank. The Nurses and those they were examining
would be looking at my back, like a family watching a popular comic soap
opera. Like Papa Ajasco.
‘Sorry,’ I uttered in haste.
I had unknowingly entered a female toilet’s room. A girl was inside. I
stood out in front of the toilet, peering at the test tube.
I would wait for the offended.
She came out, young, bright with a very long black hair like Yemoja. And
she wielded one of those faces mother detested – Bird-like face.
‘Sorry, em, for the other time.’
‘Don’t mention. Just look out for notices and instruction boards. It helps.
‘Sorry, one more time.’
She turned back sharply, as if I pinched her at the back of her dark neck,
and took a strange look at me. As if she is lampooning me.
‘Are you a one of those Christian brothers?’
‘You are too polite. Who are you?’
‘Dapo. Hundred levels. Philosophy department.’
‘Nice! The name is Bolanle. Direct entry student in Philosophy department.’
‘Yes, it is. I also came for the mandatory medical screening.’
Bolanle and I became like Suya and slices of Onion, we would spice each
other. We would solve our problems like one and embrace our successes like
close friends would do.
Our relationship aggravated.
And I would know her, who she is in real terms. I never knew a woman’s
chest can take one to a journey that will demand thousands of hefty yam
tubers in appeasement to return from.
We were four in a room in Zik hall, University of Ibadan. Shady baby had
never summoned the courage to visit me. She detested Zikites. Only Bolanle
‘They are like shit! I don’t know why a _ fine boy! Fine boy like you would
be posted to Zik hall,’ Shady baby would complain as if University of
Ibadan knew who I was before they posted me to Zik hall.
Bolanle would prepare rice and stew, stocked with frozen fish and well
packaged in her customized Jesus-loves-You cooler. She would then knock on
my door, like a bird hungrily beating its beak on a wet bamboo, and I would
open the door.
Bolanle would not say greetings during this time. She would wait till the
last grain of her well cooked rice mixes with my saliva.
‘How was it?’
‘Delicious. I like it.’
Her dark bird-like face would squeeze like roughened sheet. I understood. A
peck from her forehead down to the sole of her legs would appease the dark
It was on one of these pecking exercises, fourth, that Bolanle grabbed my
body closer to hers. I then sucked her tongue. It was so sudden. The energy
Bolanle was sitting on me, her buttocks directly on the thing inside my
I loosened her long black hair and fumbled with her breasts. My hands were
trembling as if I just carried a bag of beans. Saliva gulped down my
throat. I licked her left dark erect nipple with the same energy an
overflowing ice cream would demand. Then, she moaned and jerked her
buttocks on the thing inside my sokoto.