It’s a warm Thursday afternoon. The date is the 4th of August, 2022. It has been 5 months and 21 days since ASUU went on strike. Time flies, really.
Today’s entry is from Halimah’s Point of View, a writer at Brand Patron. Once in a while, she would be coming on here to share struggles faced by a Nigerian creative student.
Let’s take a few steps backwards to the beginning of this.
The effects of this strike have been felt differently by individuals. For some, it has been a blessing in disguise, providing time to pursue another skill. For others, it has been a wasted year, their dreams are, in the end, tied to the degree the strike has kept them from attaining.
For me, it has been some of both.
The strike began when we were two weeks into a new session. For a pharmacy student, this meant a lot had been covered and school was beginning to “choke”. We even had tests scheduled. When rumours of a strike began, my friends and I looked forward to the two weeks if it meant a break from the pharmaceutics test approaching.
You know how that ended already. Oops! But do you, seeing as it hasn’t even ended?
Two weeks have turned into almost six months and brethren, resumption is not looking to be anywhere near the horizon. Sometimes, I wonder if my clothes remember me because I clearly do not remember them. I packed for a two-week stay at home, with clothes consisting majorly of pyjamas and their variants.
Luckily for me, at the beginning of the year, I found The Creative Advisory. The week preceding the commencement of the strike, I was successfully onboarded. Unaware of what the next months would look like, I already planned a way to merge the advisory with schooling. I steeled my mind for it to be a highly demanding semester as the advisory’s time requirement is 20 hours per week.
February 14, when the decision was made, I thought, “Phew! I can conveniently devote the next three months to the advisory. Surely, the strike can’t extend beyond three months”. With this in mind, I had a purpose, and the strike didn’t seem so daunting at the time. However, three months passed, and some months more, and nothing changed. I graduated from TCA, was retained as an intern at Brand Patron, and went on with life, and ASUU is still on strike.
The hardest part for me has been waking up every day with no idea of when it will end. There was also the part of seeing my friends and colleagues who schooled in private schools graduate. I was happy for them, extremely happy for them in fact but at the same time, I was angry. Angry at the government, at ASUU, at the educational system, at how our lives are taken with such levity. It is worse every time I look at my identity card. For context, my ID card is graduating this year, about two years before the owner. Congratulations dear ID card.
I am sure I am not the only one in this situation. I promise you’re not being evil and that it’s a perfectly human reaction. The thought that crosses your mind when you see yet another “mate” graduate. Note that I didn’t say anything about wishing them evil, I don’t. You wish them well, but at the same time, you’re angry at what the system is doing to you. How you have to spend an extra two years for any course, how it seems as though the end is nowhere near, and it feels like the world is leaving you behind. Sometimes, when you stare at the ceiling as you lay on your bed, you silently wonder if you would ever graduate or how you would survive when school resumes.
Personally, I am more efficient in the school environment. There’s something about being out of the comfort zone that ignites the creativity in me. Probably the reality of having a limited time or the adrenaline pump of juggling school and work. Whatever it is, I get more done when in school.
School is optimized for focus, and the sweetness of having control of your own time is unparalleled. The freedom to choose what and what not to accommodate in your schedule, whether to cook or eat out, whether to sleep in or wake with the dawn. The same can’t be said for being at home where your parents do not understand what it means to work from your phone. To them, there’s no way you’re up to any good with all the hours you spend “pressing phone”. The reason you find yourself taking excuses every 10 minutes from a meeting with your client is that your African mother thinks you’re “gisting”. Let’s not forget the neighbourhood noise and how your siblings are always running around the house, or the neighbour’s dog that barks only at odd hours, leaving you with hardly enough time to sit with your thoughts and let your imagination run wild.
At least, in school, you can be almost sure of when there would be a power supply. No matter how bad the situation is, you know the school would power certain areas and you can always carry your devices to charge and tailor your working hours. Months in this house with erratic power supply and fuel hike means you’re limited to just the three hours at night when the generator is powered. Sometimes if you’re lucky, a few hours of power supply during the day. Sigh.
Should we talk about the house rents wasting away in school? For a student living off campus, it is none of the landlord’s business whether or not you actually stay in your apartment. He is only concerned about getting his payment when due. I paid rent for my apartment in March, and from then till now, I have spent just one night in it. Almost half of the year is gone, with an apartment, no one is staying in thanks to ASUU. In whose account should that go? That rent was supposed to be the last full year to be paid, I graduate in 2023 after all. Who is supposed to bear the extra year cost that has to be paid due to the prolonged strike?
I spent a night in July at my apartment and I was welcomed by the stench of rat urine. The house was left in a state of people fully intending to come back to it after two weeks. Did I mention the strike started two weeks after resumption? There was no surprise when I checked and found the foodstuff had expired already. So when school resumes, despite the hike in price, I have to replace all I had previously.
As if that’s not enough, being at home means putting a hold on the monthly allowance. Now, you have to struggle to buy data. What a life!
Dear Nigerian creative student, you’re not alone. I can relate to your struggles, the fear, the uncertainties, and the challenges. It’s commendable enough that you have the will to wake up each morning and show up despite all.
Here’s to you, to us, as we continue to forge ahead, hoping and trusting that one day, we would graduate, thriving as we wait.
Till we meet again,
Halimah.
