MOSES

     Once upon a time, in a hall where the ‘dead’ were forbidden and only the ‘living’ lived, a darkness, as of death, overshadowed the whole hall. The neighbouring halls and the distant hostels of omo-get-inside land knew not the sufferings of the living and existed in happy oblivion. The living wailed to the president, not Buhari but who won the election Buhari-style, yet 3 weeks on darkness still eclipsed the hall of the living. And just like the Israelites, the living learned to live with their pain, the burden of carrying about extension boxes, phone chargers, laptop chargers, power banks in silent hopes of an unused socket in other lands where light came not only from the scorching sun. Who to save these people from darkness? The president’s efforts came to nought and his people wailed still. The excos, knights of the JCR? The unconcerned porters? Neither. A Moses had to be found. Yes, a Moses.

     In the brown pages of history, whenever a hero was needed a man yet ordinary was either shooed into armor, or he embraced the waiting armor that the people held out. Moses, came already armoured, battle ready, sword lifted to show willingness to fight a battle you will agree is just and nothing but.
Moses was from the hall of the living but was sojourning in faraway lands, being trained. But news needs not legs, only a voice when it seeks the ether. And were voices hard to find in a hall that wailed in pain? NO.

Moses’ arrival heralded the beginning of the end of darkness. And it started with a speech to lift the downed spirits of the living.

“Our voices must be heard and our pain, felt.”

Or something longer. And along those lines. We no been dey there.

The spirit of Aluta was doled out but only in measure for a wise prophet knows the dangers of whipping his following into a frenzy and past it.

And so began a peaceful protest.

“We have lectures”, cried the lecturers.

“We have no light”, the protestants cried back.

Of course the non-teaching staff were not affected as most were already trekking.

And so the school gates were closed. The light, repaired in 3 hours. A 3-weeks old problem solved in 3 hours, a mere fraction of it. A peaceful protest turned into a loud celebration. And so we thought, here ends this story - without casualties.

     

     Surely, Moses was president-elect now. Surely this sea of darkness he parted was a carpeted path to his election. Or was it? SDC has other plans and the first of a series of meetings was held. Moses was disqualified from running in the forthcoming election. Unlike the biblical story in which Red Sea was parted and came down to drown the Egyptian army, when this sea was coming down only Moses was left behind. And darkness does sometimes overshadow light. Or does it? Let’s agree to disagree.

30^th of March, an ordinary Wednesday,

 was a day meant to be filled with a university’s usual mind-numbing activities. Another day for the living to ogle and make jest. See, this English is too much. Just another day for the living to do ầro. But life, with every opportunity it gets, tends to redefine words and takes them a step further. It was indeed a day with mind-numbing happenings as nine from the land of the living were served extra semesters. Na bowl of rice? SDC held a second meeting and Moses was given an extra semester. What was the offence of the remaining 8?

First, let me rename the eight - they shall be known as Bahd guys.

We know this is really not something like a joking stuvvs but SDC, Bahd Guys? Add M.I and this is Karashika Remix.

Bahd guys are excos and floor reps who were given box rooms but didn’t pay for it. Back to the original tori, on hearing the news indigenes of the living hall felt what religious leader might term ‘Holy anger’. ‘Victimisation’, it was called. After the sacrifice made by Moses for the good of all, he was given an extra semester.

What happens when a dad stops being a dad? Simple! Children stop being children. This is Karashika remix, The Chairman of the hall who was said had the power to withdraw the case let the case go on. This fire could have been quenched by The Chairman of the hall but wasn’t. So, the children decided to dis-father him;

 “Mr Chairman come and be going” (can I get cheers?).

          

     A second protest to fight a second injustice! (funny that a protest started this all?). By 10:30pm an awareness protest was led to get support of their brothers from the nearest Republic. Afterwards they went to get the support of their wives, the peace-makers - if you get our pun.

Our very own SU President (who got beat up earlier that day – gist for later or for never) came to kill the spirit saying “…this is more than a living hall problem…a meeting will be held with all faculty presidents, all departmental presidents and all Hall Chairs”. Hmm. Faculty? Department? This is some hall stuvvs, remember? Whereas Moses’ voice heralded the beginning of a restoration, this voice heralded the death of the awareness and of lifted morales brought low again. Talk about a speaker muting the voice instead of amplifying it.

Many thought this was going to be the end of the story once again until a message was kept on the Student Union Official Group Page on facebook on the 3^rd of April. This message says our sibling University, Obafemi Awolowo University has found yet another way to strike by “taking the case to the national scene, as it has been rumoured that students all over the South Western states are planning a massive protest to challenge the perceived unjust decision of the school management.” Ghen ghen, at this rate medicine students will spend a dozen years, perhaps a baker’s dozen even, in OAU. But this "solidarity" is welcomed with open hands. Injustice shouldn’t be allowed in this era. We have learnt a lot from ASUU and NASUU, how to fight for our rights. And if our elders, neither as youthful nor as full of life as we are, can fight for a cause that they believe in, what can be our excuse for doing nothing?

     In the pages of history whenever a man yet ordinary has been a hero of a war fought and won, his victory has come with a price. A price that the people for whom he fought are unwilling and sometimes unable to pay. Neither a part of it nor its entirety. And so a man turned hero, battle-scarred and bloody-armoured, is left with a burden his and solely his to carry. Is history repeating itself before our very eyes? We must not cross our hands and be by-standers awaiting how the story unfurls. This here is a story that touches us all.