Comr. Ogar, Emmanuel Oko, the Secretary of Young Progressive Party (YPP) Cross River State Chapter shared this sad story of his friend and school mate at the University of Calabar. ‘Prof’, as he was called was a brilliant student, talented rapper and singer with a bright future ahead of him.
Sadly, he went down a dark path of drug addiction. That is Prof. wearing a red shirt before his decline. Read below:
A MALABITE: SHRUNKEN BY CALIFORNIA CORN FLAKES Prof. as he’s fondly called was a brainy student who was full of life with the sparkling of youthful agility.
He swam across the boisterous and tempestuous Oron River without the fear of its deluge to acquire higher education in the famous University of Calabar— all in the quest of becoming an illustrious son of his family and the immediate society.
Sadly, his dreams and the expectations of his people now wallows in the miry clay of psychosomatic oddness. Prof. and most of us were in Unical.
We were residents of Malabo Republik (c). I was staying in room 201 in Hall5 that equally housed him. He was in the stock of the core Malabo boys whose aksions (actions) weren’t overlooked though not always reasonable as the slogan were and is, as it stance.
‘Real Malabites and Malabresses (those living in Malabo and female hostels) knew him. His adopted name, Prof. rang like church-bell.
In the domain of campus entertainment, he was there to rap like Tupac. When the likes of Agba Enjoyment; Last Prophet (Otuetue of Hit FM) and Professor Aboki of CRBC were learning the trade of comic, he wasn’t left out.
In sports, he was the star-boy in the game of football normally played in Malabo Square. As popular as he was then, his daily and dependable companion never deserted him for second. It was a solid marriage devoid of matrimonial mangles. He was in a nuptial ecstasy with Indian hemp.
And the fruit of the union is apparent today. First, he began absconding from lectures. Gradually, he didn’t know what he was studying anymore. Today, he may be seen receiving lecture with those studying Environmental Education. Another day, he could find his ways to Geography and Regional Planning class.
That was how he continued till the bridge couldn’t hold the water anymore. As times went on, he was ejected from his hostel space (bed corner) and new occupant allotted to the space. With no space to squat or hangout; he had to move to the hostel’s pew as he roamed without shelter.
From time to time, loved ones would come to show some affections and often take him home. Not too long, he’s back; but worse than the last time seen. At this stage, he was then qualified to join the other dudes at the pentagon in Hall6 and the annex at the overhead concrete roof of Hall5 to smoke marijuana and draw in Bolivian marching powder. And when he would’ve been back from the pentagon for those around then; him at that moment become “high” as commonly used in local parlance.
And afterward, he hit the street in a big way as other mad guys did. At the moment, his life is a fairytale and pathetically tragicomic.
