-BY: Faith Adedolapo Olayiwola
We argued on why our class could not hold in the faculty, yet we walked noisily like daffodils that had no end and fighters that had no head. Peter, the assumed self-appointed course representative who acquired that post only because he was the only bridge that led to the strange and unreachable world that our obvious authoritative lecturer lived in all unfairness. Unfairness, I would say, because he had change the time and duration scheduled for the class which had also made the Communication and Language Art students to choose between going for their departmental class or chasing the frivolities that would somewhat enrich their souls, lift their hearts and brighten their eyes and minds on the famous beauty termed as the botanical garden, university of Ibadan.
But that was an antonym for me who had a reversed experience when I visited the garden few months to when I became a freshman. That was in the harmattan season and it appeared as wintered forest. I had the opportunity of entering the garden without paying the tip as the entrance fee sounded in my ears-#100 for outsiders and #50 for students with ID cards. But of course, my elder sister had no ID card to that effect. So, I entered the garden freely because we came to see a friend who worked there during his IT days and decided to make it worthwhile; as least as we thought. The three of us walked down slowly towards the bridge after turning down the invitation to play chess by one of his friends and saw death. Dead plants. Dead lives. We had hoped with all enthusiasm which we had as we bade dad and mum a goodbye that our journey into the world of plants would be forever green and active in our minds. But agility fell and our hopes, wants and thoughts became fragile before our very eyes. No famous red roses nor the pink and blue ones we always struggled to pluck and stuck into our hairs and behind our ears still we reached the Senior Secondary School. Then we would admire one another to the disgust of our male counterparts still they were forced to pick theirs and suck the white milky substance which I later grew up to find out that they were nectar not milk. So Botanical garden was cold, dull and hopeless as I thought.
My sister asked, what is the department of Botany doing to help the situation here?
Is it a situation? He replied.
My sister and I looked at each other wondering.
Only the means through which the university generates funds are situations not lifeless ones where no one visits except they seek for somewhere cheap enough to host events!
When we got to bridge and saw water drive slowly in harmattan! My spirit went down when I got the sight of no daffodils that I had earlier being anxious to see or a substitute at least. William Wordsworth’s poem, Daffodils, came to my ears……
I wandered lonely as cloud
The floats on high o’er vales and hills
When all at once I saw a cloud
A host of golden daffodils
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze…..
But this journey was different and blissful. Our tour guard, Israel was uncontrollable and we had to walk at first according to his pace. My legs ached as I had to watch him walk aimlessly as a gazelle while we walked as hares that hunted for pleasures. As we got closer to the garden, Shalewa reminded me of the new crush we had to choose before the month ran out.
Preferably English, she added.
No way! English keh?, I replied, there are really no nice and handsome guys in English compared to Techites. And trust me the Techites are quite generous.
But there are no Techites for now? Let us make use of what we have now. We can always change them.
So, after sharing various thoughts and desires, we finally picked the guy who wore his tie beneath his sweater.
Strangely, we knew we had gotten to botanical garden when we smelled green and nature drift towards the rivers of happiness and air that bought hope. It was strange. I felt strange and had to ponder on why I felt strange towards an environment that should not have in the first place, strange to me; cold, dull and hopeless
To be continued….
