Dear diary: Nancy, The Life of The Party

Dear diary,

This week as it turned out, left me wondering “Why does life suddenly give one a sudden twist to every plan we make or anticipate, only to leave us sad, sometimes happy?”

Last week, I dropped my pen hurriedly when Nancy walked into the room looking like spoilt food meant for the bin, oh, I didn’t mention earlier, Nancy is my bunkmate, usually, I call her“the life of the party”and quite often I mean it. Ibadan parties knows Nancy like the back of her palm, when Nancy isn’t in a party, she is either sick or out of town. What baffles me is how she is able to keep a boyfriend, fiancé and a sugar daddy at the same time so expertly that none of them knows that the other exists.

Her engagement band which she carefully keeps in a small box under the clothes in her box of clothes is an occasional adornment which she only wears whenever Chuks, her fiancé comes around. Well, Nancy had to get engaged to Chuks as an exchange for the payment of her school fees and dear Lord, he is rich!!! Later she fell in love with Richard, maybe because he is a banker and much later she secured herself an ATM machine, Chief Owolabi whom she met at the club and trust me, the way he spends, one would think he had the whole Nigerian currency in his bank account. With these men, Nancy, my bunkmate has everything she wants.

She was supposed to be with Richard for the weekend, she had said her ‘Byes’ on Friday and we weren’t expecting her till Monday morning, so it was surprising when she rushed into the hostel that night, cursing with every foul word she could think of. Amaka and I couldn’t calm her in the first 30 minutes. Later in the evening we asked her“Nancy, what was wrong? and God knows that if she wasn’t so serious as she narrated, I would have burst into laughter when she told us what happened.

She and Richard had gone to a friend’s party and got stranded when it began to rain; Richard had left the car at his apartment. There was this girl that was all over him in the party and according to Nancy “that yeye girl was just rubbing her Bonga fish yanch all over him when they were dancing and Richard just stood there laughing like mumu”.

When they were ready to leave, the girl offered them a ride and was “looking at him like she wanted to put her tongue all over him. She was particularly drooling over him and you know what Richard did?  He said yes. I just stood there smiling thinking he was joking at first but he wasn’t. When we got home, I tried to tell him that I wasn’t happy that he collected ‘aunty Bonga fish yanch’ number. You know what he told me?” She asked Amaka who was listening awkwardly rapt;
He said I was nagging and that he wanted peace this night so I should stop ranting.
In fury, Nancy clap her hands, then she continued; “Me? Ranting? That was it for me. I packed my things and told him I was leaving. He didn’t even beg me to stay. He offered to drive me but I refused. And to add insult to my garri, one foolish driver at UI gate with that his pangolo he calls a car splashed mud on me.

Nancy wasn’t that kinda friend you know, but she was my bunky, I couldn’t laugh so instead I kept quiet and let her cool off. It didn’t help matters that there was no clean water to bathe. In fact the water in the bucket was almost the colour of the mud on her face, thanks to NASU and their strike that has refused to end. Over the week, there was a rumour that it had ended but we were surprised when the union’s Chairman addressed the public saying, “Don’t be deceived, the strike still continues”.

So here we are, continuing the struggle for water; twice this week, I went to class without taking my bath and it was far from funny. I couldn’t tell this to anyone. The first time I was unable to get water after twenty minutes on a queue. The second time, I fell on my way to the bathroom and my bucket of water slipped over. I was too late to join a queue again. A sachet of water saved the morning, and I let my roll on and body sprays do their work and I was off.

Hmmmm, Dear diary, it’s been quite a stressful week. First were the extra classes that Prof. Ajibade made us attend and the stress of writing a five paged assignment with candlelight only to realize the next day that Mr. Gabriel didn’t need it. To him, it was his way of ensuring that we read. It’s another Saturday and there is no light. I am waiting for Ikem to come pick me. Even if no one agrees, I need a night of pampering, good food and a good night rest away from the stress. Till next week.

Your friend


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