I wrote
this piece way before the previous one “YOUR
AVERAGE LEGON GIRL” but for some reason I decided to bring this later so
here we go…
‘‘George,
it’s 4am oo. Wake up. I hope you don’t want to miss the 6am class like you did
last time’’ (You can also read that in Twi). That’s the text sent from a young
lady’s phone, a Nokia X2 to be precise, to a male course mate of hers preceding
a phone call to rouse the same guy from his sleep. She’s up early to prepare
for the accursed 6am lecture which EVERY student hates. An hour and a half
after that call was made our unknown lady steps out of her room in the
direction of her faculty where the demonic lecture is set to take place.
Let’s check
out her outfit for a bit shall we? She’s in a Lacoste top one which looks
suspiciously like her hall’s shirt (special mention to that same sex hall named
after a continent) and this is over a long skirt which virtually sweeps the
floor with each step she takes. In other cases, it may be a T-shirt over some
jeans which hang loosely around her legs. Her hair is tightly-knitted into a
rigid pun on top of her head (Professor McGonagall style)… In some cases, it’s
braided. There’s little or no makeup on her face except you count the blood-red
lipstick across her lips and you can imagine the clash of colours in cases
where she may happen to be pitch-black. So she makes it to the lecture hall
with about 30 minutes to spare and promptly makes herself comfortably in one of
the front seats and my guess is this one is probably facing the lecturer
directly. She’s ready to absorb knowledge or so we assume since that’s the
impression she puts across. The lecture starts and she’s seen busily jotting
down points and paying rapt attention, that’s what we all seem to see till we
notice her head nodding off once or twice and it strikes a chord that our
mystery woman is dozing off in between the class. Oh well…..
Time flies and all too soon, the class ends. She rushes up to the lecturer to seek explanation of who knows what and rushes up to meet the T.A. and whispers something into his ears. She then comes back and packs up her stuff and is seen meeting with her group members, she is most likely to be the leader as well. All signs point to the fact she will be having group studies at the parade group that evening (she usually has group studies about four times a week). Right after this George comes up (remember him?) and she tells him “I want gorb3” in so hushed a tone you would think she didn’t want to disturb the dead. Is it because she doesn’t want anyone to know she will be consuming what is the land’s trademark food? Your guess is good as mine.
So she
heads off with the guy in the direction of the Conti dining hall and there she
gets her hands on the beans aka Gorb3 complete with an
egg and plantain. She stashes it quickly in her strikingly large hand bag
as if she’s afraid she will be found out by unseen forces. A few hours later,
she’s found sitting in the library reading up on what she and her group members
will discuss later that evening and deadly farts float pointedly around her
circumference and no one will trace it to her as she swears she never eats
flatulence-inducing foods such as gorb3. But in her room hidden away
from the prying eyes of strangers is a timetable for lunch in which this same
food she’s denying like Peter denied Jesus appears six out of seven times in a
week! So much for the denial…
It’s a few
minutes past 4pm and she heads out of the library towards the parade ground for
studies. She’s still in her Lacoste top and the same skirt which is paying
homage to Asaase Yaa. Group studies are done, the guys in the group take their
leave but the young lady stays behind with some of her ‘paddies’ and the
conversation is basically about ‘Ei! Did you see…?’ ‘Aha! Have you heard…?’ and
it goes on and on till she remembers she has another meeting to attend. If it’s
a midweek Wednesday, then she’s headed for a church service and that happens a
lot every week which she never misses if she could.
So it’s
night time and she’s heading back to her room to go and cook
It’s a
quarter to eleven on her watch and she’s chatting heartily with a boy in her
room, her room mates are also doing same and at the same time she’s whatsapping
a number of guys at the same time. Too much meat never spoilt the soup. Isn’t
that what they say? A few minutes to midnight and all the guys are gone. She
tucks herself into bed and puts her phone away. She’s waiting for sleep to come
and drag her away. Can you take a shrewd guess of who our mystery lady is? No
little bird has whispered anything to me this time but a wise old woman just
told me I may have just opened a daily chapter of the life of AN
AVERAGE KNUST GIRL…
NB: Most
the conversations that took place above were in Twi embellished with a variety
of proverbs and all so mind your Rs and Ls…
Also, a
percentage of what transpired in here is probably shrouded in mystery… maybe.
The truth is for you to decipher. Good Day.
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