"Bangigbe na goat-io, na goat-io. Bangigbe na goat-io! Omo eran!"
"Bangigbe? Ole! Bangigbe? Thief!"
"Aya e e e aya! Aya e e e aya! Aya we don come o, aya, pata pata we go win today o, aya!"
"We no go gri o we no go gri, eeee trouble we no go gri."
"ALL WE ARE SAAAAYING, GIVE US WATER!"
That last chant just didn't seem to coincide with our requests for General Bangigbe and his wife to quit government. Yet there seemed no more suitable a line to put but "give us water" at that section. The student union leader got on his megaphone and addressed the crowd.
"Greaaaat U-ites!"
"Hey!" we responded.
"Great U-ites!"
"Hey!"
He held his right hand up in the black power signal popularized in Nigeria by Fela Anikulakpo Kuti. The megaphone wasn't functioning as it should, and from my vantage point I couldn't really pick out what he was saying:
"Resident -an-gbe has defused to <buzz> <buzz> <crackle> criminal!"
The students roared their agreement in one loud shout. I roared too. Didn't care what he was saying, as long as this riot meant school would be closed and I wouldn't have to take my exams (of which they were just two weeks away). I can't say it was all my fault that I was not ready. I mean, with teachers like Mr. Abiku who said things like: "If I cash di student who is chooking my daughtah, I wi ki dem. And if you tink dat you are all going to pazz dis khos witout aving brain of genus, den you are a mistake."
Mr. Abiku was a wicked man, of that there was no doubt. But when his daughter became pregnant he flipped. He actually went crazy. The university should have done something about it as soon as it happened. He was stark, raving mad.
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