my life in the university

Chapter 1 - The Day I Entered With Vibes

They said university life is sweet. I don’t know who “they” are, but they deserve a very strong talking to.

Because me, Rejoice, I entered this school with vibes. I packed my bag with excitement, small provision (yes I was feeling like a big girl), and unnecessary heels I thought I’d wear for class. My mother hugged me at the park like I was going to war. My younger brother was already eyeing my room at home.

“University is where you’ll find yourself,” they said.

Well, I found myself... lost. In fact, it started from the very first day.

I entered the school gate with Google Maps open like I was going abroad. My backpack was heavy, my load was heavier, and my expectations were the heaviest. I thought I’d walk into class like a main character. Instead, I walked into a muddy puddle. White sneakers? Gone. First impression? Finished.

I met my first roommate that day — a girl who prays in tongues at 2am and says mosquito bites are spiritual warfare. She had already spread her wrapper across the entire bed before I even dropped my bag. I knew I was not in my father's house anymore.

---

The Orientation That Nearly Oriented Me to Death

On the second day, we had orientation.

They called it "a warm welcome into the academic environment."
I call it “sitting for five hours on a plastic chair, sweating and questioning my life decisions.”

They gave us free biro and a pamphlet. Inside the pamphlet, they said the university believes in “moulding disciplined individuals.” But I was already melting — what were they still moulding?

One man came to speak. I think he was the Dean. He looked like someone that hasn’t smiled since 2007.

"If you think university is for playing," he said, “you will pack your load and go back to your father’s house.”

Me that had just arrived.

---

First Lecture Wahala

The first class was 7am.
I woke up by 6:58.

I didn’t even brush. I threw a hoodie on my pajamas and ran like rapture had started. When I reached the class, the lecturer was already writing on the board. I stood at the back, panting like a generator.
He turned around and said, “Are you just coming?”

Me: “Yes sir.”
Him: “Go back.”

That’s how I carried my shege and went back to the hostel. That day, I learned a lesson:
In university, time is not your friend. Neither is the lecturer.

---

The Day My Sandal Broke

There’s something about Nigerian campuses and suffering that builds character.

I was walking to class, catwalking like I had sense. I had just posted a cute selfie on WhatsApp with the caption: “Academic weapon loading…”

Before I could finish the post, gbam!
My sandal snapped like an offering envelope.

I stood there, one foot shoeless, one eye crying. A guy passed and asked if I needed help. I smiled and said no, but deep down, I wanted to disappear into the gutter beside me.

I limped to class like a wounded soldier. That day, I entered class and the lecturer asked, “What is your name?”
I said, “Rejoice.”
He said, “There’s nothing to rejoice about in this course.”

---

And he was right.

---

I’m still trying to adjust. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I cry.
Most times, I just open my Google Keep and write this story so I won’t explode.

Welcome to my diary.
Welcome to the wahala.

---

If you’ve ever missed attendance, lost your way to class, or cried over spaghetti — this story is for you.