I had my final year project defense on Wednesday. The thought hasn’t sunk in yet. I know I have done it. But I am yet to deal with the ramifications of the whole process. Instead, I have taken to recalling anecdotes of the past few years I’ve spent at school. After the last paper my departmental year group wrote as a whole, I wondered if any of them remembered the first one we wrote together. I can still remember. It was Physical Geology. I can remember walking in great haste, as part of a larger group, to the exam hall. I can remember passing by Richmond, who was walking so leisurely, he might have been going for a swim. I can remember one of our group, a girl, remarking that she aimed to aspire to be so relaxed about an examination like Richmond was. She did by the way, maybe even too relaxed. But that’s not my story to tell.
I can remember Laura – she graduated a year ago – giving myself and Eric advice about how to not get overwhelmed by the coursework, then jokingly telling a friend another time that I was a final year student. Lol that was fast, wasn’t it? I can remember my first day, meeting Sikaba at the departmental museum and asking him for his timetable. He refused of course because I had to get times suitable for me too. But at that moment, I thought he was a snob. I can remember the week before, waking up every day, wondering if we’d get the fees in time. I can remember counting the hours to the deadline for registration, then being handed the lifeline that it had been extended. I can remember thinking to myself a few years ago that going to the university was essential for my growth as a person. It has, though not in the way I expected.
In about a month or so, I should be graduating and then, there’s the world to face. Actually, facing the world begins now. Unless I find and internship or a job between now and September, I risk facing three months of utter boredom. An idle Senam is not a wise Senam. I don’t know if I’m looking forward to the “real world” with as much enthusiasm as some of my colleagues and friends – school offers a certain level of security most people don’t appreciate – but I am not going to waste any time sulking about what is clearly done. For now, I am just staring at faces and listening to voices. They take me back to the last days of SHS, seeing off friends as parents or family came for them, and then Gbolahan, one of my best friends at the time, casually mentioning that it was very possible that we wouldn’t see each other ever again. We haven’t since then. I may never see some of these people again.