Quite a long time ago, in the days of Omole, the labelled tyrant. The days of the big headed Ibikunle, self-acclaimed grand commander of Great-Ife aluta forces. Long before Awo hall fell and SUB was the second most interesting spot on campus. The union was still strong and had executives in all the halls of residence.
In the hearts of Angola, the forth room of a block labelled “H” resided nine fresh students and I was one of them.

Every morning, before the cork made its first cry, knocks would vibrate on doors and voices will beckon on freshers to come out for morning devotion. Many would go out, especially the obedient ones, the ones that have no choice, the ones that are naturally spiritual and the ones that follows the crowd. Many equally would remain in their rooms and protest angrily because their precious sleep had been disrupted. I was in this category.
I was neither an atheist nor a traditionalist. I was born a catholic but I am one with several liberal ideologies. This characteristic gave the “brothers” the reflection of a sinner whenever they come to me.

I was the major target of a particular fellowship brother and he would not leave my bunk until he is sure that my stubbornness was more than his perseverance.
He would stand at times for thirty minutes vibrating “brother wake up, it’s time for devotion” and would go back disappointed after failed trial attempts feeling like he had wasted his time again.

There came a lovely Sunday, prior to Ibikunle’s school-shutting aluta. Brother Lekan (as we all called him) came just early in the morning. It was obvious I was the reason why he entered the room. He greeted other roommates and came straight to my bed where I lay in humble anticipation. He asked if I was going to church and I lied that I wasn’t going. Upon further questioning, I told him tiredness was the reason why I wouldn’t go to church and I was not strong enough to make necessary preparations. I was obviously whining hoping to start another time wasting argument. To my greatest surprise, he fetched my bathing water despite the long queue in Angola hall, ironed my rough clothes, polished my shoes and warmed my cold pasta so that I could eat something.

I dressed up and followed him to the giant and popular deeper life bus which conveyed faithfulls to his church for service.
The bus drove safely to Deeper Life Christian Fellowship (DLCF) worship center and we highlighted one after the other.
Fortunately for my calculative mind, my church was directly opposite DLCF and to fulfill Bro Lekan’s wish (since his wish was for me to go to church), I crossed the road and headed for my church.

Brother Lekan stared in bewilderment as well as other faithfulls in the bus which conveyed us together.
“Bro ‘tobiee, this is the way to church” he shouted pointing his finger towards DLCF. “That is your church, this is my church” I replied pointing at Our Lady of Perpetual Light too.
Bro Lekan was disappointed, the DLCF members who witnessed it were disappointed as well. If they knew how much effort Bro Lekan inputted to make me get into the bus, they probably would have slaughtered me in their minds.

Our elders would say, the child that has said his mother will not sleep… 

My lovely readers may want to punish me for my offence, I remain;

Omolere Maxi Oluwtobi
Nursing Science,
500 Level
08168845755
I.G @MAXIDEMARIA



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