I really like what I’ve done with this table. It’s not spectacular, but there’s an arrangement; one that I am intentional about keeping – even though I wouldn’t say I’m doing it intentionally. I just…clean up after myself every other hour or so that I’m around. I just did that right now. Took the used styrofoam plate, the nylon, and the pieces of tissue I used to clean all the ketchup and whatever else the chicken left on my fingers off to the bin outside our room. So, here I am at the table with enough space to put my hands on. I think my laptop would fit on here if I’d brought it from Lagos. No. I’m sure it would fit. I’m definitely bringing it back with me after Easter.
I’m at this table right now because I’ve realised I’m more ‘productive’ seated upright and at a table. There’s just this willingness to work. Any kind of work. Heck, I was inspired to fetch three buckets of water the other day after about 30 minutes of sitting at this table with nothing to do. Now that you know I’m here for the ‘productivity’, your question, I believe, is ‘Why do you need to feel productive?’
Well, I’m going to attempt to put how I’ve been feeling most of the time lately into words. Let’s see how it goes, shall we?
I think it’s appropriate to mention I haven’t had the words for this ‘feeling’ for about a week now. Yup! I’ve been back in this city for exactly a week now. Before that, I spent a year and a few days in Lagos. During that year, I missed Ibadan quite a lot. At some point, I missed it so much, I ached. My best friend was here. Most of the people that made up the ‘community’ I found for myself were all in Ibadan. And there I was in another city, missing the bearable life I had built for myself here while simultaneously trying to understand if I’m simply dealing with teenage angst or I really do hate my mother.
After feeling like that, after missing this place so much for so long, you’d think I’d be over the moon about coming back. Yet, I wasn’t. In fact, I kept pushing the date forward. It was Friday, then it was next Monday, then it was Wednesday, and eventually, I dragged myself to the bus park at noon on Thursday. The trip took longer than usual because of all the ‘work’ they’re doing on the road. I was on the bus for four hours, and it felt like an eternity; yet, it didn’t. I won’t say I dreaded being back here, but I wasn’t as excited as someone who’s been kept away from her good life for a year should be. I wasn’t in a hurry to be back here, so I didn’t mind the extra waiting time. The only problem was how much I hated being cramped in that bus and the car sickness. So, when the bus finally came to a stop at Iwo road, I heaved a sigh of relief, not because it was great being back here, but because it was great to finally be able to stretch my legs and not feel so nauseous anymore.
I got a private cab straight to UI because I had a big bag full of all my stuff and I didn’t like the idea that I’d have to heave that down from regular cabs and keep everyone waiting at the different stops. Also, after four hours stuck between people, I liked the extra space a private cab would give me, and I didn’t mind paying the extra for that extra. Lately, I’m very willing to pay for my comfort. You’d think my bank account didn’t tell me I had only 50 naira left every weekend.
The cabman was chatty. I did and didn’t like that. I liked it because he kept me from drowning in the confusion I felt about my other feelings. I didn’t like it because I actually did want to drown in that confusion, at least so I could figure out how I felt about being back here. How I felt about the chattiness was basically pointless because he kept talking anyway – even when I was on the phone with my aunt to let her know I’d be coming for my stuff that had been with her for a year now. At the end of the last semester, I left certain stuff I knew – or thought – would be useless back home at her place. I figured my stuff wouldn’t be there for that long because we should have resumed about a month later. I was wrong. And it’s easy to blame the pandemic for turning a month into a year, but when you think about it, it wasn’t entirely the pandemic. It was this country and their disregard for our education.
I’m here to talk about the feelings I can’t seem to figure out, and I know how I feel about this. Disappointed, sad; basically, negative emotions. So, back to the cab that’s driving down the road that leads to my hostel. Why does it have to be so long? I know how I felt about that as well. My lazy self was thoroughly irritated. I still am irritated because I have to walk that road every time I want to go out now. And the slope makes it such a nightmare. My irritation isn’t going to do anything, I know. So, I don’t really dwell on it. In fact, I only think about it when I’m going out or coming back in.
The driver finally reached the small gate of my hostel, and was kind enough to help me carry my luggage out of the trunk and all the way to the door. I saw the hostel’s matron at her usual seat and the look on her face tells me she’d been expecting me for a while. For 2 weeks, to be exact, since that’s when school officially resumed. Even though they said it was all supposed to be online, everyone who could find themselves a place to stay came to school, including my two roommates. So much for online classes. Perhaps I’ll tell you all about the different ways that irritates me next time.
The matron told me where my room is. It’s the first one on the ground floor and that gave me a certain kind of joy because the long road I have to climb every now and then was still irritating me at that moment. The door wasn’t locked, so I figured my roommates were around. The matron confirmed that by telling me ‘She’s probably just in one of her friends’ room.’ Friends? In a new hostel? It’s only been two weeks, Jesus. Then I realised, the matron said ‘she’, not ‘they’. So, where’s the other one?
I dreaded meeting them, together or individually. I always dread meeting new people anyway. Maybe that explains the relief I felt when I opened the door and didn’t see them. I dragged myself and the luggage behind me into the room. I suddenly wished I resumed earlier because they left me with the worst spot in the room. I couldn’t complain, though because it’s way nicer than the nicest spot in an Awo room. That was a win for me.
And that’s where my settling in began. Since Thursday, I’ve been stuck trying to figure out how I feel about being back here. I thought I didn’t know. Now, I realise I simply thought I needed to have one overall feeling rather than the small moments of irritation and hope and joy. Joy, not just because my room is the first one on the ground floor of the hostel, but also because I saw my friends. The friends I had missed for a year. I saw my best friend. And, I realise, I missed them so much that I didn’t care if the hug was a bit too long for people who were in public. I missed my other friends so much, that rather than actually sit and have some me time, I was making plans to meet as many people as I could in as little time as possible. It’s only been a week, and I’ve seen a good number of them. I’m speaking as if I have that many friends in the first place.
When I started writing, I came to write about the fact that I thought my feelings were simply echoes of the moment. Now, I’ve reminded myself, that’s what feelings are in the first place. Fickle. You can go from distraught to elated because of one sentence. I guess that’s what I didn’t like. How fleeting the good feelings are. Because after my friends are gone, I’m alone again and it makes sense to feel lonely when you’re alone. I mean, of course, you shouldn’t always feel lonely when you’re alone. That’s not how I typically am anyway. Back when I didn’t have friends, I used to love my alone time. Back in Lagos when I knew my friends were in another city, I used to love my alone time.
I guess the reason I felt stoic about coming back was that I couldn’t get straight into the reasons I missed it here. I find it funny that I’ve mentioned nothing about my education – which is, as far as my mother is concerned, the only reason I’m in this city in the first place. But, at this length, perhaps we should talk about that as well in the next piece?
