Chapter 1
Chukwuemeka Okechukwu had been in a pensive mood for over three weeks running. This was as a result of not getting his Joint Matriculation Examination (JME) result, which would make him to gain admission into the university if he passed. He was unable to eat and sleep very well as a result. Many of his friends both at his country home and in Calabar, where he was residing presently had all got theirs. Some passed and some others could not meet the cut off mark. Emeka could not imagine why his was yet to come out, as Universities had started reopening for a new session after a long holidays. Two weeks had gone, Emeka was yet to set eyes on his JME result like others. Tears coursed down his eyes profusely.
“So, it means I’ll stay again at home for another full year,” Chukwuemeka lamented thoughtfully. He continued:
“Doing what? Preparing for another Joint Admission and Matriculation Examination, JME? Oh, I’m finished! How can a brilliant chap like me who’d shown a good scholarship since my inception at school from primary be writing JME every year? Is this caused by me? All these people who had made it, are they better than me? Why is my own different? What might have caused Joint Admission and Matriculation Board, JAMB to withhold my result? Unshakably, I believe that there was no examination malpractice in my centre. But if there was, though oblivious to me, one of my friends’ results wouldn’t have been released.
“Who among my friends at home will ever believe me that my JME result was not released? They’ll all think that I’m feigning. Indeed, I’ll no longer command respect where they are. They’ll all say after all if I’m intelligent why didn’t I make it in the first attempt. And now that all of them have entered university I’m still crawling. Oh, this is another hope betrayed.”
As he was lamenting and thinking himself out, his brother who was working in Nigeria Ports Authority, NPA, came in; he was greatly astonished to see his younger brother in that pensive mood with tears watering down his cheeks in great abundance. He immediately thought that perhaps an awful thing had happened at home, and they had sent a message to them from home. In a quick succession he began to ask,
“What’s amiss? What’s amiss? Is any of our parents dead?”
Emeka broke his silence.
“It’s because of the non-release of my JME result. How could it be possible that all other people who sat for the examination at the same time with me had got theirs and my own withheld?”
“Is that why you’re crying like a baby and thinking yourself to the grave?” said his elder brother Ndubuishi.
“O yes, brother. I’m tired of writing JME. I can’t withstand the stress again.”
“How many times have you written it? And don’t worry yourself any longer again! There should be no cause for alarm anymore. Behold your JME result!” He brought it out from one of his trousers’ pocket and handed it over to him.
Instantly, tears disappeared from Emeka’s eyes as joy, at last, enveloped him.
Nevertheless, the happiness that greeted the seeing of the result had not waned down as he had relapsed into shedding of tears in a higher dimension. This was against the backdrop of his result not being too impressive. He got English Language 60, Biology 62, Chemistry 64 and Physics 62 totaling 248. He had thought it deeply that there was no way he could meet up the cut-off mark for Medicine and Surgery, as admission is categorically based on quota system and catchments’ areas.
However, his brother reprimanded him for such silly behaviour. Without mincing words he told him that he must change his course of study to any of the courses in the Natural Science. But Chukwuemeka objected to it saying, Medicine and Surgery or nothing.
It was a week sequel to the released of his result and his shock of not-making it again fainting away he began to prepare for the forthcoming JME coming up two months later.
However, Ndubuishi was hosting his town unions’ meeting in Calabar in his residence; Emeka played an active role especially on preparing things for the august visitors. At the end of the meeting coupled with the eating and drinking, everyone was going; Ndubuishi met Mr. Onyebuchi Okoroafor, who was a non-academic staff of University of Calabar working in the admission office. He discussed with him about his brother’s fate in the JME. Nonetheless, after hearing about Emeka’s scores he gave unflinching promise to help him get a supplementary admission since his total score was very far higher than the cut-off mark for the any of the Natural Science courses available in the university. Prior to Mr. Okoroafor’s departure, he told Ndubuishi to come to his house at the State Housing Estate with his younger brother the next day.
Ndubuishi and his younger brother visited Mr. Okoroafor’s house as agreed. However, he was not in the house. Both of them were seated in the parlour after explaining whom they were to the wife. Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Okoroafor drove in from the campus. Greetings were exchanged. Soon, he took excuse to get inside to bath, as he had sweltered all through the day by heat. About seventeen minutes later he surfaced to the parlour. They discussed at length.
“I’ve gone to the College of Medicine,” said Mr. Okoroafor “and found out that your brother’s score fell below the cut-off mark required for medicine and Surgery for the non-indigenes of the State. Obviously, there’s no way he could be assisted to study medicine and surgery with this score as a non indigene. Should he have come from Cross River State, it would have been a different story. And in the same vein, after visiting Chemistry department, I also found out that his score is far above the cut-off mark. That’s the place I hope sincerely to put him in. Outside Medicine and Surgery, Chemistry is the next option. There’s no other course again in the field of science apart from Medcine and Surgery better than it in the job market. This is the course he could practise on his own after graduation if he wishes. But, nonetheless, there’s an obstacle to his getting admitted to study Chemistry.”
“What’s that, sir?” Ndubuishi quipped.
“You once told me that he didn’t put University of Calabar as any of his choice university.
“Of course, he didn’t.”
“This suffices to say that it’ll engulf some money to go to Lagos to change his second choice university to University of Calabar. And this will be forwarded by the Chemistry department.”
“Okay, how much will it entail?’ Ndubuishi asked.
“Just four thousand naira.”
“I’ll try to see if I can raise the money. But if I may ask, which day is the deadline for it to reach you?”
”Before the week runs out.”
However, as they were having the discussion, Emeka was in a pensive mood. Tears rolled down his eyes profusely again. What he thought of was not what was discussed eventually. His thought was that either by hook or by crook he could by that connection be helped to get admitted to study Medicine and Surgery. At the same time, he was not happy by that huge amount of money the man was demanding.
Meantime, Mr. Okoroafor had noticed Emeka’s frustrations clearly as seen in his downcast face, but he kept mum. As the discussion was virtually coming to an end Mr. Okoroafor chided him.
“Don’t be silly! Why are you sad? Aren’t you fortunate that I’m here to help you realise your ultimate dream and ambition in life? Do you think that it’s easy these days to get admission into the university in Nigeria? Look, this is what the well-to-do people are jostling for, for their children! If a minute is wasted now, they’ll buy the chance at all cost.”
“Don’t mind him, please!” Ndubuishi cut in. “That’s the way he behaves. I don’t think he’s appreciating all my efforts so far. If he doesn’t like it, that’s okay. I’ll sit down to let him continue to take JME and failing. Afterwards, he’ll by himself struggle to get admitted.”
“Brother, indeed, it’s not that I am not appreciating your efforts. It’s because I’ve got an excessive love for Medicine and Surgery. I feel this is where my fate lies.”
“All right,” said Mr. Okoroafor, “there no cause for alarm. You still have the opportunity to study your desired course. One, by doing well in the forth coming JME. Or by performing creditably well in this your first year, and you can then easily change to Medicine and Surgery.”
The instant this was said he grinned with delight, as his overwhelming sadness and tears disappeared in a moment.
“That’s a good talk!” he cheerfully replied.
Meanwhile, not up to three minutes Ndubuishi and his brother stepped out of the door that Mr. Okoroafor had started counting in his brain how much he would have in the money from Ndubuishi. Truly, he overcharged him. At that time, no professor in the University earned more than N40,000 per annum. Therefore, he would be getting on his side more than his monthly salary. And for Ndubuishi, a junior worker in NPA, he did not have such amount of money. That meant he would go borrowing, perhaps, from his office and be paying gradually from his meagre monthly salary.
