MR LECTURER PART 1

I have often noticed that a bribe...has that effect—it changes a relationship. The man who offers a bribe gives away a little of his own substance; the bribe once accepted, he becomes the inferior. This is the effect of an act seen as though it’s normal in the society we live now. Bribery could be defined as the offering of money or other incentives to persuade somebody to do something, especially something dishonest or illegal. Many definitions exist for bribery but all have in common an act of giving and a corresponding act of acceptance. Now who is to be blamed doesn’t come to play in all aspects of bribery but the course of this diary gives an account of Ijeoma and Mr. Osagie (Mr. Lecturer)

Lecturing no matter how rewarding it seems, play a major role in the crust of the demonic act eating up our nation’s personality. In the field of mistrust in the future of our country, our lecturers partake. The majority of the graduates being produced lately are termed as half baked. The question is who baked them? Mr. Osagie is an example of what our parents should know we encounter when we get into the four walls of a University.

My name is Ijeoma Bello, the second child in a family of five. I have an elder brother who spent seven years in studying a four year course at the prestigious Obafemi Awolowo University; I choose the opposite, until I encountered Mr. Osagie at the imperial University of Ibadan Nigeria. He is a bad example for the image of our educational system in this country.

Although not all University lecturers take advantage of their female student, many lecturers in fact are thorough , morally upright, some see themselves as parents as others see themselves as pals, with people they are old enough to father. Our Universities are plagued by a disturbing culture of extreme sexual harassment, especially the beautiful young ladies. There is no form of reproach the student can give. If you try it, your entirety would be covered with failure during your stay in that institution. I had my own fair share but …….

It was my first class after two weeks of resumption. Registration had been a whole lot of stress in a span of land as big as my village. From health center, to department, to hostel, to library, not to complain of the long queue at the bursary, all the points at which one needs to register had a population to behold. Registration seems everlasting.  I was through in two weeks and the department of Sociology and Anthropology welcomed a genius in the making I thought. It was a general class for the faculty of social science. A political science course, (POL 101), and the introduction was flowing. We were up to a thousand five hundred students in the lecture theater. Body odours, dialects, perfumes, sweats, and the most unbelievable were people that have started reading what we have not been thought at all. It was all different from secondary school. I sat close to Hassana, we had attended the same school in Jos, and she was in political science but the joy of knowing someone in this new place, kept me alive. We were close to the front row. We had like four rows between us and the stage, therefore we were obvious for whoever was going to lecture.  

The flow of students into the lecture hall made me know the lecturer was coming in. Carrying four textbooks like we were in Harvard, he greeted the class good afternoon. We all responded good afternoon sir. He told everyone to get seated and wrote on the board, introduction to political science. He turned to the class and asked who can define what politics is? Before he ended the question, many hands were up. I thought they were carry-over students, because I didn’t know it. The first three guys said complete opposites of what it was, and he demanded a girl should try and answer also. No hands were up and in all surprise he turned towards myself and Hassana and asked me to try. I stood up and introduced myself and that was the introduction to Mr. Lecturer. I didn’t want to fool myself like those guys did so I told him “no idea” he sounded like he was discontented by my reply, thus he told me to meet him in his office after class.

I was nervous because I’ve heard if lecturers pick on you too early at school, you might end up having problems. Secondly he might feel I’m just a dullard; I dint even make an attempt. All those thoughts blocked my ears during the lecture. It was two hours and his class was over. He called me and another girl, who I later knew to be Bukky, and told us to follow him. I packed his books for him, and like a sheep to be slaughtered we followed him.

The office was practically a big room with many old and dusty books. Scripts of old students littered the place, and his big table had many sheets with little writing. He told me to drop the books and wait outside; he was attending to Bukky first. I waited close to forty minutes before Bukky told me to go inside. She had missed one of her buttons. and I suspected what could have happened inside. I slowly stepped inside with appearance that would usher my failure in a higher institution. Mr. Osagie told me to close the door behind me and told me to sit. He stood up, and started walking towards me. I was waiting for him to touch me before I scream, but to my surprise the blame continued, why on earth would you answer in a class with no idea? What school did you attend? Immediately the esteem was restored, I never knew it was a trap I was going to fall later. My session was thirty minutes. and the events that transpired were life changing. Mr. Lecturer was so ……….