It was one late night. We were sitting in the dormitory, chatting. This was after preps, a time all students revised their lessons or did assignments. I was no longer a student. But I stayed in the school’s hostel to help a staff with evening lessons for adults.

It was the time Blackberry phones had fallen as the most coveted item in the nation. IPhones had dethroned them, and so were Nokia Lumia and a couple of others determined to make a name for themselves.

So, one student and friend of mine called Jiru had an old blackberry phone on which we were all watching a couple of funny videos circulating on WhatsApp.

With us were other student friends. I took the phone to browse and realized that porn videos kept popping up uninvited each time I visited contents that had nothing to do with sex.

That evening, I was on a university’s website, checking my admission status. The admissions had not yet been released and it was annoying because I had admission to some college I wasn’t interested in attending and if the deadline for registering in that college ends and I don’t get admission to the university of my choice, that would be too bad. A double loss.

I placed the phone on a chair and went to stand by the window. Right below the dormitory was thick bushes and darkness, the wall separating the school’s premises from the bushes completely engulfed in the darkness.

Behind that wall swallowed up in darkness, we threw all kinds of garbage including neatly packaged shit we launched into those spaces when the taps were not flowing and mankind badly needed to do things nature beckons us to do.

Sometimes we stood by that window to brush our teeth and spit into whatever was below to welcome the waste.

As I stood there, I was indirectly looking to see if I would spot the body of a cat I killed. It was a roommate who kept it in our room. Imagine that! In a cubicle that was so tiny and packed with students, a space naturally meant for one person, he had the guts to keep a pet.

It used to wee wee and poo all over our room. One night I returned to the dormitory to find that everyone  had gone out. I golden idea struck me. Take the cat, strike it against the wall and hurl it into the bushes below!

I couldn’t catch the cat so I had to hurl thick shoes at it as it run about the room. It was a brief race, but in the end, I won.

Lifting the cat, I threw it into the darkness. It was so light, I couldn’t hear its sound when it landed below.

Of course, a few days later, its owner starting inquiring about the cat. I sat straight up and suddenly busied myself with some activity, pretending not to hear what he was saying. In my heart, he and his cat got just what they deserved.

All these replayed on my mind that night as I stood by the window. I didn’t know why I felt the need to recheck the university’s website. I did. And there it was! The admissions!

I was shivering as I keyed in my details. I told no one… Just in case I didn’t get it, no one would hear about it.

There! My name! And surname! It was indeed me!

I scrolled on that tiny blackberry phone which suddenly was too small and too slow in revealing the details as fast and as big as I wanted them.

But there was one detail there I didn’t like. The program I was offered : Bachelor of Arts in Arabic, Psychology and Information studies. How???

Those were not what I applied for. I was told the program one is offered depends on one’s performance in the final high school exams. Damn!

All the same I shared the news. To my friends around me that evening. Those on WhatsApp. I made phone calls. Even called home though it was late. I even wanted to print the details of the admission that night. My God, I couldn’t wait! Intoxicated with joy!

I stepped out, running into main town, on a quiet road, looking for an internet café.

Unfortunately no shop was serving internet nor any printing services that night.

But I was not the kind that gave up easily, not on this night with joy fueling my every move.

I kept going and lo and behold, my foolish determination paid!

“I want to print my admission letter…” I said to the café operator, gasping for breath.

“Which school?” he asked.

I told him and supplied him the details. He keyed them in. It took a while for the damn page to show its face.

I think everyone else was checking so the system was kind of jammed. I wasn’t the only madman in town.

Then like the cry of a newly born baby, I heard the printer. It clicked, started with a gentle cough, then another, and another, then a buzzing sound, like a little engine, the rolling of papers. And out came the long awaited hardcopy of my admissions to the premier university!!!

I saw my picture on the admission letter and felt like kissing the picture and whispering, “Boy, you made it!”

As I trudged back to the dormitory, I remembered how a few weeks ago, I had used this very road to the main part of town, to check my results in the final high school exams.

There is a card we buy, and all the shops around were out of stock. Someone directed me to a particular shop in Madina and as I went, I wondered what would become of me if I failed in some subjects. It would mean while my mates shared stories of how life in the university for a beginner was, I would be forced to recoil like a beaten snake, into a hole, listening to their stories and pretending to not hear, with nothing to share. And perhaps say that cliché that seems to have become the anthem of losers, “God’s time is the best.”

Indeed God has been good! I remember arriving at the shop where the results checking card was sold and the shop attendant asking me if the results were for junior high or senior high.

“Senior high.” I indicated.

He typed my index number and pin. I tried to turn away as the page loaded. Impatience nudged me to stretch my giraffe neck which became longer as I gathered more faith to keep stretching.

The results that popped up so far were all encouraging. I held my breath till the last. No failed grade. It wasn’t excellent. But it was good. Huh! Relief at last!

“Print three copies for me.” I instructed, the joy in my voice seeping through my tone.

“It’s part of the money you paid for the card so you don’t have to pay again for the printing.” the shop assistant told me.

Wow! That’s really cool. I get to save a few coins for water.

When he handed me the copies, I couldn’t walk. I kept running and running. Joy was my energy and the energy that morning was like the tidal waves, high and murderous.

I couldnt wait to share the news. In this country, it was no small matter to pass one’s high school exams without any complications.

That month of August was a month of important breakthroughs. First, I completed high school, feeling like some everlasting chains had been shattered off my feet and hands. My results were out and they were good. They came out whole without any deformities. And now to crown it all, I had admission to the premier university of the state.

Although the program I was offered was trying its best to censor my joy and happiness, I was happy to be in paradise limping.