Our Class Clique Part 1

There was a particular clique in my class while I was in college. The four girls in this clique went around with shoulders raised high feeling more superior to the rest of us in class. 

They speak like the Americans, ( well I do not know if that is the way Americans speak or perhaps they were trying to come up with their own style but I’ve heard them say words like gonna”, “wanna” and “aint” and assumed it must have come from constantly watching American movies.) They were neat students and hardly associate with others except for a few.

They bragged practically about everything and bore us with tales of trips abroad, big planes (since just a few of us have ever seen one except in the movies); so they dished out both true and untrue tales of everything and we gulped them like a child would to the tales of his father.

I recall a story the girls told us of their fathers who had several exotic cars and had to give some out because “they were too many, they were eating up space.” Na so we go just dey look these chicks, dey wish say our own papa also get cars for us to brag. Of course I know there were lies among the stories, but it amused me.

I also recall praying to God to provide my mum with a car so she can drive me to school with it. One of the girls was absent from school for three weeks and our class teacher needed volunteers since it would be proper the class pay her a visit to know the reason for her absence. I swiftly raised my hand not because I really wanted to see the girl who was absent but because I wanted to see the house and the bathroom made of gold, she once told us about. I had been so curious ever since she mentioned it.

I know my mum would expect me to be home before 4pm but I was anxious to feed my hungry eyes with the sight of a golden laden bathroom.

Luckily for me, I was chosen and at the end of school’s closing time, I took my bag and left for the girl’s house with her friends (other members of the clique).  

We conversed on our way and after walking for a while we finally located the streets where she lived. We spotted a big house beautifully painted with a green gate and immediately dashed towards the building. We knocked and a Yoruba man in his late thirties opened the gate for us. We never bothered asking for direction because to us it was a waste of time. Lol, the building perfectly fits the impression created.  

We told him whom we came to see and he nodded to say “No be this place.” The other girls disagreed and argued with the gateman. (You go think say na we buy the house for them.) They insisted that the girl lived in the place, “You don’t know your oga’s daughter name.” one of them said.

I was also convinced that we were at the right place since no houses on that street fits into the imaginary story created. The gateman probably was confused, then I went ahead to relay the reason for our visit to him in pidgin.

He asked for the house number and that was when I remembered that our teacher scribbled the address on a paper which we didn’t bother to check. I brought out the paper from my bag and read it to the gateman. He pointed to a bungalow, two houses away from the one opposite the place and we all chorused, No!  

We walked to the house the gatemen pointed to us not as if we believed him but because we felt those who lived there would know better to give proper direction.

We got the house and approached one of the neighbours to ask for direction and lo and behold, we saw the girl whose house and bathroom was made of gold. She was shocked when she saw us and lowered her face, she looked so lean and I had to pity her. The other girls kept asking her “is this really your house? Or you just came to see someone here?” stupid girls!

The girl’s mother offered us something to eat and chairs to sit but the girls kept raising their nose in disgust.

Right there, I just learnt never to be so carried away with people’s words, most of what you envy might be exaggerated. Be contented!   

Be yourself, stay true to yourself, you don’t need to present a fake version of yourself to make friends.  

Eseun! lol

@whurmie