MY SAPIOSEXUAL LECTURER (Part 1)

TRIGGER WARNING: This content contains explicit contents and graphic descriptions of abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

“‘If Mohammed doesn’t go to the river, the river would come to Mohammed.’ That was the last thing she said before everything went pitch black.” I said to my roommate, Nnamdi.

He rose his eyebrows, “What does the river mean?”

Orgasm.

ONE WEEK BEFORE I KNEW WHAT THE WORD RIVER MEANT…

It all began when I walked into this prestigious school. I actually didn’t walk, I jumped. I jumped with my hands to the sky as I entered the pearl gates of one of the finest institutions in the whole of Africa.

IVORY UNIVERSITY.

You may wonder, who is this crazy person?

My name is Isah Mohammed. I’ve never been the most handsome boy in my class, but my intelligence made me sexy.

Have you ever seen that one ugly guy, so ugly, that passes by and you see many girls flooding after him and you wonder why?

Yes, that guy.

No. No, I’m not that guy.

Well, I could be that guy if I wasn’t so boring and lacked mannerism.

But that didn’t matter to me because I had pride. My pride was to raise my head to the sky and shout, “Alhamdulillah!” to the Almighty Allah for making me see this day.

The day I finally jumped into the school of my dreams. Ivory University.

Ivory University was a private university in the popular Kuje LGA of Abuja. It was the only university in Nigeria owned by a German billionaire and a university filled with lots of foreign students and high-profiled lecturers.

I was a transfer scholarship student in the department of Psychology. You see, I was about to be the ugliest 200 level boy you will ever see but as I said before, my grades will make me finer than Ramsey Nouah. The young Ramsey Nouah.

So, let me give you a summary of how my first day at Ivory University went. I went straight to my hostel and got slapped by a cloud of smoke when I entered my room. Apparently, one of my roommates was a smoker, he goes by the name of Nnamdi. When I told him to stop smoking cigarette in the room, here is what the idiot told me;

“Cigarette? Mallam, you dare defy the lordship of this weed? How dare you. How dare you bring down this glory lord into a commoner like… cigarette?” He stared at the tiny smoking stick in his hand with remorse, “I apologize, my lord. Your people are destroyed for lack of ignorance.”

It was then that I knew my guy was high.

He gave me these delicious chocolate brownies as a welcome gift, which I foolishly ate. Because later that evening, I saw myself dancing with Queen Elizabeth, Ronaldo and Barney. It wasn’t until the next morning that I found out the brownies were ‘edibles’ and not ordinary brownies. I recited Astaghfirullah 100 times that morning.

I met my other roommate, Emmanuel, the next morning. He was quite interesting. Here was why; Emmanuel was a fat timid boy who was the best student in Psychology but is now a carry-over student because apparently, he was raped by a woman two years ago and no one believed him because “men cannot be raped” and no investigation has been done because Emmanuel is an attention seeking spoilt brat who would cook up a story in order to cover up his failures and multiple carryovers and not take responsibility for them. Yes, that was the gist that went round the school.

To be honest, I believed them. Because men cannot be raped. Even imagining it felt impossible.

Well, that was what I thought before I met her.

You may wonder, who is her?

Get ready to meet her shortly.

The following morning, lectures began at Ivory University.

This was how my first day of lectures went;

Lecture 1 – boring. Lecture 2 – boring. Lecture 3 – more boring. And lecture 4…

I stood outside the lecture hall of my fourth and last lecture of the day; Psychology of Human Sexuality. It was a fascinating course. But not as fascinating as the lecturer that was about to teach us.

Dr Anita Ubong.

I stared at the portrait of this fascinating lecturer that was hung outside the lecture hall.

She was a rare lecturer. A woman old enough to be my mother, but more accomplished than both my mother and father combined.

She was a Psychology graduate at University of Oxford. A Ph.D holder. Has two doctorates. An advocate for Women’s Rights. The president of the Sexual Violence against University Girls association. And an award-winning best-selling psychology author of The Feminist Psychology.

That was her. The woman that changed everything for me.

I stared at the inscription under her portrait, ‘Lecturer of the Year.’ I scoffed, Those were the most dangerous ones.