That Sunday evening, Funke got dressed, took her luggage to the sitting room while she waited for her mother who has been saying how she will miss her when she has gone to the university, little did she know that the feeling wasn’t mutual for Funke, she couldn’t wait to leave the house.
That Sunday evening, Funke got dressed, took her luggage to the sitting room while she waited for her mother who has been saying how she will miss her when she has gone to the university, little did she know that the feeling wasn’t mutual for Funke, she couldn’t wait to leave the house.
As they approached the main gate of the University of Lagos where Funke will be studying mass communication, her mother started to advise her on school life, just like every mother would.
She started by telling her to be mindful of the friends she keeps, face her studies squarely and also avoid the ultimate boy-girl relationships. She was eighteen years old and her mother stressed the fact that she wasn’t matured enough for any relationship with a man.
For Funke this was all a sermon, she was there to have the firsthand experience and whatever happens, will be part of passing through school.
At about 4:00 PM, they were in front of Moremi hostel where Funke would be staying. Everyone around knew Funke’s parents must be wealthy, judging by the luggage that was brought out from the two cars that followed her to school.
Funke’s mum waited to meet with the hostel mistress who she gave instructions to keep her eyes on Funke and be her guardian, that was one request she certainly could not turn down as it was coming from the wife of the Honorable representing the constituency.
Funke was given the right to choose the room she wanted and before she could even begin, the hostel mistress herself had already selected Room 12, one of the few rooms with its own kitchen, bathroom.
Mrs Ireti assured Funke’s mum that Funke was in safe hands, this assurance was greeted with a nicely shaped envelope.
It was not until after 6.30 PM that Funke’s mother left the hostel in tears, telling Funke how much she would miss her, her baby, her only child.
The hostel porters on night shift helped with her bags to Room 12. When she got to the room, she was warmly greeted by Momore, a fair-skinned and chubby girl, who was most likely to be her age mate.
Momore told her how they have been expecting her, having been told by the hostel mistress that the daughter of a politician was coming to their room All through the conversation, Momore did all the talking and laughing, Funke just managed to smile. She was new and was ready to study her roommates, so the familiarity would wait.
The next day, she woke up early, took her bath and was ready for class. Where the venue of the class was, she had no idea.
Funke observed that while she was getting dressed, Momore was getting ready too, so she decided to ask her.
“Please can you help me with the directions to the faculty of Arts, have a class by 7.30 AM” said Funke.
“Really! Same with me, what department is that?” Replied Momore. “Department of Mass Communication,” said Funke. Suddenly Momore’s face lit up, “you don’t mean it! That’s my department, can’t believe I have a course mate as a roommate, I am so happy”.
She said as she hurriedly arranged her bed, so they could set out for their morning lectures. For Funke, this was not a welcome development at all, having a coursemate as your roommate means no privacy.
She just hoped Momore’s was not basket-mouthed to take room discussions to class, because if she did, she will endeavour to put her in her place. This was the university, the first time she will be leaving home to live independently, and so nobody should come between her and her freedom, not her hostel mistress and definitely not her roommate.
So she managed to fake a smile as they both headed for the faculty of Arts building. Funke quietly sat at the front to avoid distractions so as to be able to face her studies squarely as her mother had advised.
She could hear all the chit-chats from the rear of the class, her course mates were pointing fingers at her direction, “that’s the daughter of Hon. Jibola, hmmm! She is very pretty”, she could hear.
Momore was thus the privileged friend of Funke, "the class celebrity". As they were about to leave the class, the President of Mass Communication Students Association, Comrade Thompson Ade, entered. After a brief introduction, he informed the first-year students of the forthcoming welcome party which would mark the Miss Mass Communication pageant, the biggest in the faculty.
The pageant will produce the queen that will lead the student delegates to Abuja for the forthcoming press week. All through his speech, he couldn’t take his eyes off Funke, this beauty was too much for the beholder.
Funke couldn’t wait to leave the class. It was one boring speech to her, maybe it was poor timing because at that time all she could think about was the faculty cafeteria.
As soon as he finished talking, Funke tapped Momore beckoning on her for them to leave. As they got outside the classroom, she heard her name “Hello Funke” it was a male’s voice.
She was deeply surprised, nobody except Momore knew her name, but she was about to find out as she turned to see his face.