SATIRE: Night classes

 

Quadri Yahya 

Only the serious students come to read at night classes. They leave the comfort of their hostels, crouch under the reading lights to study the whole semester materials in one night, especially when exam is just a few hours away.

These night-readers are pervasive during the exam period: from ETF to Convocation ground to classrooms in the faculties. The guys amongst them, spare the law students, tread the road from Adelabu market to girls’ hostels, escorting pretty faces who are now stressed from too much reading. 

The law students, on the other hand, would always be in groups; a group of two here and three there. They read, from Plato to Aristotle to penal code to Premier league laws to sportybet. Though they make the most noise, it is necessary to dissect Latin and Greek words they are learning. 

But observing going-ons at night classes all depends on the podium one is looking from. At the Faculty of Art main hall, with its spaciousness, one will see studious students swatting off merciless mosquitoes; one will also see a boy and a girl grinning, their hands under the chair. There are those who are out for new catch: painted faces and lips, demure-less dress; borrowed Jeans, IPhones.

I feel pathetic and unserious for not going for night classes,  and once in a while, I deprive my eyes of sleep and force myself to show up at night classes, but instead of reading phonetics or syntax, I end up eavesdropping on the speech sounds and constructions of lovers of sports, skirts and books. Afterwards, I write something like this.