We Prayed and ASUU Heard Our Prayers

By Sanni Juliet Oluwadarapupo

In a faraway town called the University of Ibadan, students from various lands walk daily to their lecture theatres clothed in garments of confusion, agony and what the white man will call mental exhaustion. Each day, each week, they walk on the same familiar street all wearing the same look, a look filled with baggy eyes and a bland face, hoping and praying to the gods to one day hear their plea. 

Every Monday morning begins with a sigh, “oh, it is another Monday,” then in all patience, they wait for Friday to come faster. And when Friday does arrives, they thank God it’s the weekend but the happiness is short lived as time waits for no man for they know that another week is gone and the day of reckoning, examination, is close by. 

At night, they pray to their gods complaining about how they have been experiencing hell here on earth. They lament how sleep has deserted them as they are being visited in their dreams with the spirits of their supervisors chasing them with a cane while flying on a broomstick and yelling, “where is my chapter 3! Oh, you think you are going to graduate, give me my chapter 3 or else I will follow you, you will raise your children in my home.” They also complained to their gods how most of them are on the verge of mental breakdown as their so-called lecturers keep stuffing them with lectures upon lectures, the unending tests and how the semester is on a marathon race leaving no space to breathe, they describe it as going crazy.

With their unrelenting faith, facing their windows, they kneel to the ground with their heads tilted to the sky, “oh fathers of the lands, hear our cry.” They kept on repeating the cycle, unsure if they have been abandoned by their gods or if their land has been cursed but one thing they never stop doing is, they never stop praying. Minutes turned into hours, hours into days, days into weeks and finally weeks into months.

And just when it seemed there was no hope again, on a sunny afternoon, the town crier came bearing news. With his gong, he made the sound and shouted;

“Hear ye, hear ye, students of the university of Ibadan, it has come to the notice of The Great Council of ASUU that your complaints and cries have been heard. In response to this, The Great Council of ASUU has issued a two weeks’ Festival of Rest to all.”

The crowd froze, they murmured, could this be it? He continued, “It is mandatory that every student must return to their various homes while following the following instructions;

You must sleep a total of 18 hours per day during this Festival of Rest so as to recuperate the self that was lost to the semester.

You are expected to close all books and with immediate effect, stop all preparation for any upcoming tests in order to avoid going crazy and being picked on the streets of UI by government officials.

All lecture theatres and related buildings must be shut down and if there is any one open, report it to the council.

Lastly, you are expected to eat and regain the flesh in those clavicles and abolish the name, pankere.

He concluded by saying, “During this festival of rest, you are to embark on a marathon series of your favourite k pop show, when done, you are to summarize it and submit it to the head office. All things written and said must be followed with immediate effect and any man, woman, student, boy or girl caught defaulting will be summoned to face The Great Council of ASUU.”

Within the twinkle of an eye, a great tumultuous sound erupted from the land of UI, there was jolly in the air, places once painted with down casted, soggy faces of students were now repainted with the ever glowing joyous ones. The eyes of the people sparkled; it felts like a freedom they have been waiting on for years. The atmosphere became brighter with the smiling chins of people faces. They shouted and screamed, “oh gods of our lands, we knew you never abandoned us, you heard our plea and listened to us. You saw how we were being maltreated and in your mercy, you decided to send help, to relieve us from the shackles of back to back classes, lists of unending tests and the roars of grumpy supervisors screaming on the tops of their lungs over pieces of papers.” They screamed and hailed their gods, bless the gods of lands for they met us in our perilous times. 

The streets were lit up, lecture theatres were shut down, classes were abruptly put to a pause and students returned home cheerfully presenting the divine message to their parents. Books were replaced with television sets, snuggled pillows and beds replaced classrooms and assignments with sleep. 

They carried on with their lives but one thing the town crier failed to do was to tell them when the Festival of Rest will truly end. While they carried on with their lives, we pray, that they remember how life was before it is completely wiped off.