I was devastated and couldn’t help but cry. I cried because I knew what was happening. The lecturer, Mr. Sesan, had tried to play some funny games with me a couple of times, he once made some dirty comment (when I went to submit an assignment he had given us) about the top I was wearing and how it accentuated my bre@sts, but I quickly shut it down. I wasn’t rude but I was assertive…I knew my academic capacity and knew I would pass the course in a way that he couldn’t do anything about it.
Deola felt my pain and said we should go talk to him…I didn’t want to, I totally wanted to report this to the school authority and have my answers reevaluated.Then Deola told me the story of a girl that did what I was planning and although she ended up getting a better grade in the course, she was frustrated into leaving the school…it was as if most of her lecturers ganged up against her and made her life miserable.
I asked why Deola didn’t do the same thing when she failed the course in her 2nd year; she made me realize that our cases were different. She did not pass the course; she also missed the 30-mark test. However, she tried to talk to the former lecturer of the course but he was a born again Christian and was not interested in anything she had to say.
So we went to Mr. Sesan, and at first he pretended like he had no clue what I was talking about…but when Deola told him we didn’t come to fight but to discuss with him as our “elder brother” and that we were at his mercy, he soft-pedalled and blamed me for what happened.He said I was rude to him and he was only trying to be funny. I apologized profusely (Deola made me) and begged him to help me fix things. He then demanded that I either “played along or paid to get along”.
I told him I was not that kind of girl and how I was from a poor family…he quickly interjected that he had seen me on campus many times and knew how I dressed and I should spare him the “poor girl from poor background” story.
“Leave story jare…how many poor girls carry Chanel bags?” He asked while pointing at the purse I was carrying
To God who made me, I didn’t know how expensive the bag was, it was a “borrow-pose”…it was Deola’s.
He said to fix it, he would collect ten thousand Naira because he would have to go explain to the Dean why my score changed. I didn’t have the money and I didn’t want Deola to have to pay it for me. I tried to negotiate but Mr. Sesan insisted on that amount.As we were about to leave, he warned me that the longer I took, the more expensive it was going to get and if I took too long, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it again.
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