It’s terrible to be a squatter in your final year. I’ve been squatting in the room I stayed in last session because I haven’t gotten my accommodation. I wasn’t squatting with one person in particular, just the room, I’d sleep on the floor at night, on my blanket, then wake up and occupy someone’s bed when she went to class.
If you’ve followed this blog you would know that this is the second time I’ve had to squat in a room; first in my third year and now. My mum would say there is a lot to learn from this phase in my life, but it doesn’t look like it.
So as I type, I’m sitting on the corridor, after removing my clothes from the corridor where the thug ladies threw them. I can feel my heart beat oddly, I can feel a sore on my lip. My ankle hurts from an injury I didn’t realize I had gotten and my neck has scratches.
You have figured out that I fought abi?
The lady whose corner I kept most of my things asked me to remove them. I’d begged, asked for some time to close the deal on my hostel allocation, she still said I should move by weekend. So I began to remove my things today, apparently not fast enough for her, so her ‘people’ tell me to move.
An argument, lady one drags my box, two others drag my bag, then they throw my clothes to the floor. Books, floor. There is a push. I drag my things back. But where did one person ever overshadow three people, except in martial art movies?
I got mad. I fought. I gave this girl series of slaps, I pushed her against the wall. Something savage came over me, I wanted to be civil, but somehow she just kept coming at me. So I pushed back, lady two came at me too, and I began to lose it. All the while I asked landlady if she was happy.
The ladies left, and told me I was fat and miserable, and that was why I didn’t have a place to stay. And mum says I should mark their faces so that I can forgive them, because they will need my favor very soon, and only if I have forgiven them will I be able to look past this.
This time of my life has not exactly been a good one… somehow, I am not exactly excited to be growing older. 21 is the age that so many ladies fuss about, but somehow, I’ve been struggling. Maybe I’m not seeing the big picture, I know I should.
I’m not proud of myself for getting into a fight, I could have reacted better. At the point I just wanted to beat sense into them. I didn’t.
So I’m looking for where to stay. I know today is the last I’ll stay in that room though, I was humiliated today. It won’t happen again.