MOROCCO: The Holy Land Of Sinful Lovers in UDUS
By Ibrahim Olarotimi
I had waited for more than an hour and I was set to get upset by her delay. She told me to come by 8:00pm and it was already 9:25pm. I was trouble-minded. The next thing I saw was the beep of my phone. ” Sowi darlin, I’ll join u soon, I was busi dishing ur dina”, she texted with her rotten English”. Her text though infuriating, it gave me the hope to cope with her girlish delay propensities, I was a bit rest-hearted. There seemed a big concert in heaven. The thunderclaps almost deafened my ears. The Angels were beating drums. There was a bit baptism of water from the sky. “Even if I’ll be beaten up mercilessly today, I must see this babe”, I said to myself, soliloquizing like a barren ghost.
Soonest, she appeared garmented in a big blue-black pudah, which blindfolded all the blessings of her body. God so good, the bullying breeze bullied her and her hijab was violently breezed. Her hidden blessings were planely unfolded. Her hips in the hijab was a similitude of Lagos-Ibadan express way. A heap of cars could mobile on it without any traffic jam. The twosome mountain on her chest were larger than mount Everest, it would take two decades to mount them to the pinnacle.
She gave me a warmth embrace that was capable of assassinating one’s gentlemanliness. I was concussed when she gave me a gift of kiss on my forehead. Hardly had we started the tournament of romance that the heavy rain began. We quickly dashed under the canopy of God_ the ginormous baobab tree in front of the Kwankwasiya hostel behind the SU Secretariat. We started anew, she whispered me conspiratorial love stories. As my hands transgressed to her waist, where her dangling waist-beeds danced to the music of my fingers, a man in blue and black marched towards us with his clunky old shoes, then we forcefully departed. It was the “Baba-blue” who had come to use his own reggae to spoil our blues. He illuminated our eyes with his touch and said:” lokaci yayi”. “My Lord, why has thou forsaken me tonight”, I said and evacuated the place with the gift of well-fed cooler given to me by Rofiat. I was heart-rending.
As I stepped into my Jubril Aminu, Block A, room 29, a wane of grief drew lines on my forehead, a coon cartoon of wounded mood tattooed my worried face. I sat down in my squatting corner, looking heart-broken like a politician who had just lost election. “Brother, where are you from and from were are you?”, Semiu curiously and furiously queried. He was the only “Jambito” in that room. He would call me his school brother whenever he needed my aid in anything, but would decline me whenever I asked him to wash my dirty clothes. “Three guys waited for you. They said you gave them an appointment for tutorial in the room”, he said further. ” Don’t mind me brother, I went for a more important appointment in Morocco “. “Morocco?” “Yes Morocco”. “Brother, you mean you are coming from such a far place? Did you fly, you must be telling lie.” “Shut your mouth, you do not call an elderly person a liar, I don’t tell lies. I am not ‘Lie Mohammed, the Minister of disinformation, sorry, information’.” “Hmmm, so where is the Morocco?”
“Not the Morocco in the Northern part of Africa which shares border with Spain, Algeria and Mauritania. It is the Morocco in the most peaceful University in Nigeria.” “Hmmm?” “Yes!”. “But sir, what exactly do they do there, what appointment did you have in the place that was more important than the tutorial which your course mates waited for?”
“You are childish. A child does not know talisman, he calls it vegetable. Morocco is beyond what you think it is. It is what I call the holy land of sinful lovers, where student lovers are meant to meet for something seemingly love conversation or otherwise, be it daytime or at night. Basically true Morocco starts immediately after Ishai prayer till 10:00pm or thereabout.”
“Sir, where exactly is the Morocco in UDUS, hit the nail in the head, you talk too much.” ” Idiot, your brother talks too much, we don’t say that to an elderly person.” “Sorry sir, a child will not be so good at eating corn mean without having it rubbed in his palm.” “Well, I’ll tell you as a good brother.”
“Morocco may mean anywhere in the school, where lovers could meet. Basically, the headquarters of Morocco are any spacious places in front of the girl’s hostel such as DV, FBI, Kwankwasiya, IB, IA and others. You know, in UDUS, it’s a taboo for a male student to enter a female hostel and vice versa. So, those places are meeting ground. Females who have boy friends invite them. Those who also have sugar Daddies will invite them and they come with either their cars or bikes. However, there is always an extension of Morocco in the school. You know, classrooms”.
“Wow, this is interesting. But sir, you said earlier that you went for something more important than tutorial in Morocco, do you mean Morocco is more important than academics?” “Well, not really but you know, our elderly ones on campus say: ‘Boko without Morocco is like tea without sugar’. Reading is good but it will be better if you visit Morocco, you know, all work and no play makes Saka a dull boy.”
“Hmmm!” (He heaved a sigh of dismay and nodded his head in affirmation). “Sir, but if I may ask, can one kiss or romance on the Morocco? “Children of nowadays, what do you know about kiss and romance? “Please tell me now, I’m begging “. “Well, you can kiss, press keyboards, touch things but be very careful not to get caught else, you’ll end up inside room 20”. “Where is room 20?” ” Idiot, you try it first, I won’t tell you that for now”.
“You may want to know. Kwankwasiya seems to be the safest place for Morocco at night. Especially when you sit adjacent to the SU Secretariat. The ‘Baba-Blues’ will think you are there for an official meeting, so they won’t take note. There, you may pretend as if you want to whisper your counterpart, then you’ll just kiss, you know, in a coded manner. Don’t try that in DV, FBI or I blocks. You might be catapulted out of the campus, if caught. Well, to make things real, behind ETF3 is good, beside MH is better, White-House is a Paradise for keeping it real and EB classes are not bad as well.”
“Wow, I’m learning!” “Sinful boy, why won’t you learn. Is that your CHEM 102?” “Sir, another question, do lecturers patronize Morrocco?” “Well, I don’t know, I’m not a lecturer, I’m a student but a senior fellow once told me that those who know their ways amongst them patronize those girls who in turn know their ways. You know, ‘omo to ba mo way lo mowe’. “What’s the meaning of that sir?” “Meaning of what? The frog said when we talk, we should skip talking about the tail”. “Hmmm?” “Yes.” ” But…..” “Shut your mouth, but what? No further questions please. I’m ready for night reading, I want to do TDB”.