The room grew quieter after Odelola left, though the scent of perfume, cigarette smoke, and hair pomade still lingered in the air. Asa sat gently on the edge of her bed unsure whether to feel comfortable or alert. Their world was loud, bold, fast. Her own world was quiet, patterned, predictable.
The three girls who had earlier spoken without restraint now shifted their attention toward her.
The tallest stood up first. She had full lips, sharp cheekbones, and an afro shaped perfectly like a round mould. Her wrapper was tied loosely around her chest, showing the curve of her collarbone. She grinned and extended her hand.
“My name is Yemisi,” she said, voice rich like smoked palm wine. “Three hundred level. Department of Arts. I’m sure you will love to come to some of our departmental show.”
Asa nodded respectfully. “Good afternoon, ma.”
“Ma ke?” Yemisi laughed. “Don’t call me ma unless you want to add ten years to my age!”
Another girl, shorter with mischievous eyes and a beauty mark above her lips adjusted her blouse. Her afro was tucked into a scarf patterned with yellow stars.
“I’m Amope,” she announced proudly. “Three hundred level too. Home Economics. If you love money, follow me, I will teach you how to make money and enjoy life.”
The last girl, who had been painting her toenails with a bright red lacquer, raised her head slightly. Her beauty was quiet, almost spiritual, with eyes that always seemed half-closed in contemplation.
“I’m Ewatomi,” she said softly. “Mathematics department.”
She flicked her hair and returned to her toenails.
Asa swallowed slightly. These were not girls, no, they were women, fully formed in experience, confidence, and boldness. Every word they spoke felt like something she wasn’t ready for.
“So, Asa,” Yemisi said, leaning closer, “where did you come from? You look like fresh flower… just plucked.”
“I came from Osogbo,” Asa said shyly. “My father brought me this morning.”
“Ah! So you’re a proper home girl,” Amope teased, laughter dancing in her voice. “Don’t worry, we’ll teach you city life.”
Ewatomi chimed in without looking up. “Don’t let these two stress you with question and answer. My own is, University is not just about reading, it is about enjoying and doing ‘shakara’. Mingle with big boys in the city.” She blinked lazily. “Do the do and stay happy always.”
Asa noticed something in the way they moved and spoke, the confidence, the teasing, the recklessness. Quietly, she realized that these three girls were wayward, free in ways she had never imagined.
After a few more minutes of small talk, the girls returned to their own activities, Yemisi trying on wigs, Amope adjusting her shoes, and Ewatomi humming old highlife tunes under her breath. Asa sat quietly, listening, learning, observing. She felt invisible, yet not entirely unwelcome.
Before seeking Odelola, Asa arranged her things in her wadrope. She set her small bag neatly by the bed, folded her skirts and blouses carefully, and placed her wrapper and sandals in the corner. Everything was in order, just the way her mother would have liked it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Asa took a deep breath, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and anxiety.
Clutching her bag, Asa stepped out of her room . The corridor of Moremi Girls’ Hostel stretched before her like a river of sound, movement, and color. Shoes scattered near doors, wrappers hanging on lines outside windows, radios playing Bobby Benson’s Taxi Driver, and girls laughing loudly as they braided hair or washed clothes in metal basins.
She asked a few girls along the corridor. “Room twenty-eight? Odelola’s room?”
“Oh, she’s under the almond tree courtyard,” one girl replied. “You’ll find her reading or talking with someone.”
Grateful, Asa walked toward the courtyard.
The courtyard was wide, with an old almond tree standing proudly at its center. Its leaves swayed gently with the afternoon breeze, falling occasionally onto the wooden benches scattered around.
There, under the tree sat Odelola, her afro catching sunlight like a halo. She wore a fitted blouse tucked into high-waisted flared trousers, the fashion of the era that made her look both modern and daring. A book lay open on her lap, but she wasn’t reading it; her mind seemed to be elsewhere.
Asa approached timidly. “Good afternoon… Odelola.”
Odelola glanced up, a smile touching her lips. “Ah, Asa! You’ve settled in yout room?”
“Yes… thank you. I just wanted to greet you properly.”
Odelola patted the space beside her on the wooden bench. “Sit.”
Asa obeyed.
“You will be fine here,” Odelola said, studying her with a mixture of amusement and warmth. “University life is different from village or town life. People are freer. Some are even wayward.” She raised her eyes toward Room 17. “Yemisi, Amope, and Ewatomi—you’ll know them properly soon. They’re the biggest girls in our campus, so… be careful with them. They go out at night sometimes, into places you shouldn’t go.”
Asa’s eyes widened slightly. “I understand… I will be careful.”
Odelola nodded approvingly. “Good. You must learn to walk your own path, Asa. Don’t let anyone, no matter how fun or exciting drag you into trouble.”
“What department are you in?” Asa asked, trying to shift the conversation to something lighter.
“Philosophy,” Odelola replied proudly. “Three hundred level. Almost done with school.”
“That’s good,” Asa said softly. “You must be very brillant.”
Odelola laughed lightly. “Brillant? Maybe. But I’m focus. I worked hard to reach here. My parents didn’t want me to leave home. They said Lagos would spoil me.” She winked playfully. “They were scared but I prove them wrong.”
Asa chuckled, feeling her nerves ease.
The courtyard buzzed with life—girls plaiting hair, some discussing lecturers, others gossiping about boys from the nearby male hostel. A radio somewhere played Victor Olaiya’s highlife tune.
“So tell me,” Odelola said, leaning closer, “why did you choose our university? You strike me as someone who prefers staying close to home.”
Asa hesitated, thinking of her father’s words, her mother’s hopes, and her own quiet dreams that she rarely voiced.
“I want to become a mass communcator ,” she finally said. “I don’t know how easy that will be. But I know I will achieve it with my determination.”
Odelola nodded slowly, approval softening her eyes. “Good, campus will show you ‘more’ of what you don’t need every day but you need to stay determine.”
They sat quietly for a moment as a group of boys strolled past the hostel gate, whistling and laughing. One waved at Odelola; she waved back with casual confidence.
“So,” Odelola said finally, rising to her feet, “this evening I will come to your room. We will talk properly. There are things you should know, rules, lecturers to avoid, shortcuts to classes, places not to walk at night.” She gave Asa a small smile. “You will survive here. You will even enjoy.”
Asa nodded, relief warming her chest. “Thank you… truly.”
Odelola placed a hand briefly on her shoulder. “You’re welcome. Now go and rest. It is still your first day.”
Asa walked back toward Room 17, feeling lighter than she had since arriving. The corridor now seemed less intimidating, the laughter less threatening, the smell of soap and perfume comforting rather than overwhelming.
Room 17 greeted her with silence when she entered. She sat on her bed again, watching the shadows lengthen across the wall as the afternoon crept into evening.
Her new world was wide, unpredictable, and loud… but she was ready to face it.
Campus life had only just begun.
Read Episode Three, Four & Five Here.
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