They were a bunch of female students, on the balcony of the last floor of our hostel, hooting and jeering at passersby.

I hadn’t seen them until I was stabbed with a remark about my clothes. They said my combination was off. It was embarrassing.

I took a look at what I wore. They were right. But was that the best approach?

“Neon green and mauve!!!…” they pointed, bursting into a fresh round of laughter. I took a look at my shirt and shorts while still hurrying away. I didn’t know that the shirt I wore was what they call mauve. I thought it was light red. And ‘neon green’. Never heard of that. Now I know. Lessons well learnt.

I took one last glance at them before continuing to lectures. It hurt, what they did. But perhaps I needed it. Sometimes God just plants people who say hurtful truths we never wish to hear in our paths. And it takes humility to swallow the bitter pill.

I thought about my looks that morning and those of other days. Perhaps I needed to pay attention to how I dressed, how I smell, the overall impression I gave before any chance to showcase what lies beyond the looks.

Upon entering the lecture hall, I sat at the back, head bowed.

Maybe I was ugly. Maybe all my friends have been pretending I was a great guy. Perhaps, I was just an ordinary person fooling myself that I was meant for greatness.

I took a look at my feet. They were dusty. I smelled of sweat.

It wasn’t my fault. Things were just bad. What can I do?

How annoying I find those advocates of personal hygiene. They preach about what they do not know. They forget that there are days one’s pommade and perfumes get finished and the last penny to be saved towards buying some evaporate into thin air.

I wasn’t following the lecture that morning. I was following my thoughts, as they sank into the past. I was seeing myself in a new harsh light that hurts. It was blindingly bright. I thought of how me too could become somebody one day and no more be a victim of taunts and subtle rejection.

That One Day seemed a microscopic needle in a giant haystack that I feared I myself might get lost in while searching for that needle.

Now I try to focus on the man by the white board and whatever nonsense he was trying to inject into our heads.

Spanish. Grammar. None of what was being taught would go into the coconut sitting on my neck.

I close my eyes.

Some giggling a few seats away awakens me from my mock sleep. What was funny?

Like an answer to my unasked question, Joojo hands me his phone.

“Oh! Another lecturer ! “ I exclaimed.

Another lecturer was suspended for sexually harassing a female student. Some people were advocating for dismissal as a warning to the rest.

I remember what one lady once told me. That inasmuch as the lecturers were being punished for their actions, the girls must be cautioned to dress appropriately on campus. I know a lecturer who vehemently opposes telling girls to dress decently.

“They can dress as they please. That doesn’t give the men audacity to rape.” She would retort.

And I tell myself, “a dog is being whipped for eating roasted meat  uncovered, exposed in public, and yet the owner would neither take the meat away nor let someone keep watch over it.”

Hmmm….

I remember what my father always thought about dismissing workers. He said it’s best to sometimes demote them and perhaps transfer them elsewhere, especially in the case of law enforcement agents who have been trained to use guns and other weapons. Imagine such persons sitting at home with a family to feed and no money. And yet we want to keep crime low.

Anyway, I was a wounded animal struck with arrows of careless words of a bevy of ladies on the last floor of a balcony and I would rather concentrate on my wound than think of what someone should do or shouldn’t. After all, one can talk one’s head off and nothing would change in this country. Why not sit in my corner and mind my business.

I needed to use the washroom. I watch the lecturer’s face for a while. He looked harmless, unless the other ones who acted like we were still in high school.

I stood up. All eyes on me as I left. In the washroom I stare at myself for long in the mirror. From the washroom, I overheard muffled tones of ongoing lectures in various lecture halls in the building.

I didn’t look that bad. With a little attention to little little details I could get better. Much better when  money comes.