The name ‘Nigeria’ was coined by Flora Lugard, a journalist, and the wife of one of the great and reportedly selfless colonial masters who, against our will, helped exploit our natural resources for the benefit of their country and our… no, again, their country.
In what would later become a remarkably unremarkable moment in the history of our great nation, Sir William Fyfe, on the 28th of December, 1946, pushed his way through the bush on the outskirts of Ibadan until he reached a clearing. At this clearing, he planted his walking stick into the ground and said, “Here shall be the University of Nigeria!”
Well, it later turned out to be the University of Ibadan, and fast forward to several years of alleged development, the institution is now regarded as a great and formidable one that is a force to reckon with in the comity of schools in underdeveloped nations globally.
But when I pray and urge you to pray that ‘may UI never happen to you,’ it is in your interest that you accept my premier prayers because if UI happens to you, there would be so many things going through your mind that coming back to this piece of peacefully printed words would be the least of your concerns.
See, if UI should happen to you, you would pay 100 dollars for a piece of peaceful land to rest your head for 100 days but 90 dollars for that same piece of peaceful land in 50 days. Are you confused? Don’t be. It’s called premier mathematics, an emerging field in the course pioneered by foremost eggheads who frequently meet at Tekena Tamuno’s backyard.
Wait for it: if UI should happen to you, irrespective of how bothered you are about the formula used to arrive at that premier mathematical conclusion, you won’t find an answer because the first-class good boys elected (please add an ‘s’ before the last word) to ask this question are, just like their name implies, good boys. Nothing more, nothing less. And as a good boy, there are certain good rules you don’t break. One of them is asking any question – good or bad. Questions can tarnish your reputation – if you have any.
If you are still not confused about why you should pray for UI not to happen to you, then you need to know that if it should happen, a decade and a couple of months after graduation, you would become the jobless Editor-in-Crisis of Conscience Post, battling Facebook and dog to become a class-rep. That story is longer, but the bottom line is that like Sapa, UI is all-conquering once it decides to embark on a journey to open your book.
Again, it is important to pray that UI never happens to you, because irrespective of how great the independence you took when you left your parent’s colony for the Great Independence Hall is, an offence as serious as being beardless can send you back to a state of dependence. Of course, there are a lot of people you can depend on after losing it; is it not UI, where unionism equals good-boyism?
In confusion, my coursemate, Confucius, once asked what steps he can take to ensure UI never happens to him. I smiled dangerously and said: “Even though your name is Confucius, don’t be a philosopher.”