My father says he’s coming to Enugu today, that he’d like to drop by in school to see me. I told him, No sir, I have some epic level communicable disease. You come, you catch it.
You may think this is a dramatic step, but you don’t know my father. Going by antecedents from secondary school, if my father comes to this campus, this is what will happen:
He will come at the peak of lectures, while the lecturer is still on his mic. He will call the lecturer aside and say some funny shit and the lecturer will laugh and become his friend. Lecturer comes back to the podium to announce with the mic to the whole world, Daniel Victor, with registration number ##, your daddy is here and wants to see you.
My father will make sure the meeting holds at the entrance of the auditorium so that after the class ends, everyone leaving will see him talking to his boy. He will hold my hands for more dramatic effect.
He will lead me to my hostel, holding my hand, and he will meet my roommates and introduce himself again. He will make them laugh and make them like him, then he will say stuff like, Take care of him. Him no too like bath, so make sure he baths before he sleeps. Please, help me supervise him when he washes. Especially the base of his jeans.
He will ask for the oldest man in the hostel and personally hand me over to him and ask him to be my school father.
He will lead me to the DDG’s quarters. On the way I will meet one girl who is crushing on me and she will greet me by my name. My father will say some funny shit and make friends with her. Then he will tell her some shit like, I hope he brushes his teeth before he talks to you? And just like that, the crush flies out of the window.
He will introduce me to the DDG and tell him about how I lost my mother in 2004. DDG and his wife will automatically take me as their child and start to look after me and shit. DDG will personally supervise my class attendance.
Then he will take me to church and personally commit me to the pastor. I miss church once and his hotline blings.
Then when he’s finally leaving, at the gate, he will look at me like, “Yes, I can’t flog you with cane anymore, but I still know how to beat you.”
If you think this is an exaggeration, then you don’t know my father.
So no sir. Don’t come. I have Ebola.