By Joseph Abiagom

Life in the hostel sometimes occasionally distracts one from the harsh realities that befalls man. Well at least in my hostel, somewhere on the outskirts of Lagos, Ibeju-Lekki precisely. Amethyst Hall, where meal tickets are bought at the beginning of the semester, power supply is never in shortage, and water runs most of the time (sorry I’m not in UNILAG), Life is much easier.

Anyways, after returning home, I have sadly come to experience the realities on what I read online. Change.  In all honesty, it has not been a sweet sensation but rather a buffet of rotten meals from the kitchen of an unstable government.

Prior to my return home, I decided to spend my summer interning at a Tech company.

On the day I resumed, I met a young friend I had not seen him for over two years, he was around six years old now, when he noticed me,  he rushed to embrace me as I guarded myself to protect my thoroughly ironed white shirt. I carried him and was really happy to see him-thinking he was too, but it broke my heart when he uttered:”Uncle, give me money!”

My heart did not break because he asked for money instead because of the manner and timing of his plea- I felt merely as a means to an end. You know? At this point his mother rushed out to hit him. Her violence threw me back.

Just before I met the boy, I saw his mother point me out from a distance and whisper something like “collect money from him” into his ear, I could swear on it. But there she was beating the little kid-faking her ignorance-as he cried out of confusion, and I stared in bewilderment.

Still stunned by the incident, I left in a bid to get to the office quickly even though I was already late. I noticed that the face me I face you houses in my house area had been converted to hostels for the university close by. I was saddened because I knew I had lost some friends and I was in too much of a hurry to ask.

I headed to the bus stop to board a bus going to Oyinbo with the intention of stopping at Alagomeji. But to my greatest surprise the bus fare that used to be 70 naira turned into 100 naira. Luckily I had enough money to pay the fare so- I jumped in. Nonetheless, felt unease about the inflated price.

During the lunch-time break. I walked over to a fast food restaurant a few blocks away. The pleasant aroma of western and traditional meals coming from the counter deepened my appetite, but the price tags boldly written above the counter discourage me.

I immediately knew this was not my place (unless I wanted my whole budget for the month in one week) so I showed myself to the exit door.

The serving lady asked for my order at the a local mama put- “White rice 150 “I said, as she dished the food my blood boiled (evident from my streaming my head), She served three spoons sparingly like I was a dog or like I was begging her for food.

“What is this “I yelled instantly, She fired back by saying “we are in change” reciting what has become the new anthem for treating customer horribly. I was disgusted but too hungry to walk out so I ate 450 naira worth of rice that ideally should cost 150 naira. This is really good; I like it, Buhari well done! (Sigh)

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