My Experience Studying in a Nigerian Public University
I didn’t always hate schooling in Nigeria. On the contrary, I looked forward to it during my high school years.
The main reason was that I enjoyed being around friends and I knew most of them had no plans to study abroad.
Despite all the scary details I heard about student life in my chosen university, I was optimistic that my experience would be divine. Delusional as I was, it was a happy bubble to live in.
Then came my first year.
These are just some of the things that brutally disillusioned me:
- I shared a room (designed to fit 4 people) with 15 other people.
- I got used to showering with water that looked oil-stained (apologies to my white towel).
- I attended general classes with hundreds of other students and no electricity.
- My room became infested with bedbugs sometime after I got used to sleeping on a broken bunk (this was when I became homeless!)
- The lecturers threatened to fail us more times than they encouraged us to succeed in exams.
Tough right? Yes, absolutely
My second year was a major upgrade for me. I had adapted to the jungle and made notes on how to make the best out of it.
The first thing I did was change my hostel of residence.
This time, there were no bedbugs, no broken bunks, and I shared a room with five other people. The experience was heaven compared to the last.
Still, things remained bleak for me as an average student. I was constantly fighting against the system just to graduate with a certificate that would make me proud.
My mornings were usually eventful. There were two bathrooms on each floor of my residence but we still queued to get water to shower.
I didn’t bother cooking breakfast because I knew the look of the kitchen (before the cleaners arrived) would kill my appetite.
I walked to class to find that I had to either stand outside to listen to the lecturer or seat at the back and struggle to grab the words and write them down.
The seats at the front were always filled with more students than they could handle; leg space was a luxury.
Leaving class, I headed to the cafeteria. This was another experience I did not relish.
Sure there were other places on campus to get food, but the cafeteria was the nearest to my residence and I went there when I was short on cash to splurge on the hot-spot restaurants.
It smelled of dirty water mixed with sweat. You could literally step in there to find water leaking from somewhere that no one bothered to clean every single day.
And the sweat? That’s hundreds of students crowded in a place with barely one functioning air conditioning.
Still, the food was great so I kept going back.
Tests were often treated with an air of mystery. A lecturer could come in and declare that a test would be taken that day and it would contribute to the final grade. It was mostly used as a tool of punishment.
Exam seasons were always intense. My course involves a lot of essay writing and critical thinking. One crucial point to take note of is the personality of the lecturer: would he want original ideas? Would he want his ideas written in different words? Would he prefer a long essay or a short one? All this had to be kept in mind.
There are many rumors surrounding the marking of scripts by lecturers. Some drink in the process, some don’t bother completing a script before giving a score (and kick you out of their office when you ask for a review), and some sleep with female students that ask for a higher score. Nothing is free, they say.
Now in my third year, my school hasn’t resumed academic activities since March. The pandemic sent us home but we remain here because our lecturers are on strike.
While I watch the world progress despite the pandemic, I can’t help feeling left out. I started my Medium page to keep me busy and earn some money while I’m at it, but it looks like I’ll keep this going for a long time.
My university has its shortcomings: poor management of facilities, embezzlement of funds, unhealthy lecturer-to-student relationship dynamics, but it’s trying somehow to stay afloat and I don’t take that for granted.
I’m not proud of the institution, I’m proud of myself for pulling through despite the challenges.
Thank you for reading.
