Of Siblings and Sacrifice (A series)

Belemas's Street Credibility (Episode Two)

Dr. Ibrioma was concluding her class, and amidst her sentences, she requested my presence once the class concluded. Such requests were not unusual for me, as I had become a favorite of some of the lecturers here at RSU. Perhaps it was due to luck or the fact that life had fashioned me into a conspicuous figure wherever I went. However, this time, I believed it was because of my grades. I had consistently maintained the top position in my class since my first year at the university. It was a demanding feat, but my unwavering motivation stemmed from my sister, Tamuno. I felt an obligation to make her proud of me, wherever she may be now.

Without hesitation, I packed my books into my backpack and turned to Ebimo, saying, "Wait for me at the canteen. Let's see what this woman wants this time." Ebimo replied casually, "It's probably the usual, she wants to pick your brain or offer some advice." I frowned in response. I couldn't help but wonder why this woman couldn't leave me alone. Why was she always so concerned about my well-being? I didn't need anyone checking up on me. If it wasn't my mother or my perpetually absent father, then it was Tamuno. Tears threatened to well up in my eyes, and my heart shattered into a thousand pieces, leaving me feeling utterly hollow yet emotionally congested. I felt anger, but I managed to conceal it with a forced smile as I told Ebimo, "Ah, you might be right. She always wants to save my soul." Ebimo chuckled and retorted, "Your soul? You? What about those of us who can't even score a 'C' in class?" I laughed along with Ebimo, appreciating his humor. Little did he know that I had sought him out in class due to his carefree approach to life.

In our first year at the university, I encountered Ebimo at the registration point. As is customary in Nigerian universities, nothing gets done without a long queue. The most arduous and stressful approach to anything seemed to be the university's standard. It was as if the institution was purpose-built to reveal life's harshest realities. This place was designed to toughen up anyone, regardless of their background.
Ebimo was facing some bullies at the registration center. He had been standing in line when three burly guys approached him. One of them had a substantial belly, as if he could devour Ebimo and still remain unsatisfied. He shoved Ebimo on the shoulder, loomed over him, and declared, "This is my spot... I was here before you, so..." He took an intimidating posture and raised his voice slightly, "step aside now!" Ebimo was taken aback, and I could see him trembling. Sweat formed on his forehead, but then he mustered the courage to respond, his voice shaky, "I was here first, you...you're just trying to bully me." "What did you say?" the second guy retorted. This one was less imposing, slender, tall, fair-skinned, and handsome. He spoke softly. Ebimo turned around, realizing he had been surrounded. The third guy wore a smirk and yelled, "Aboy, I'll cause a scene here!" Ebimo, sensing impending trouble, turned to the first guy who had pushed him and burst into hysterical laughter, "I'm just playing... it's a joke, please!" He attempted to step out of the line but was restrained by the third guy, who said, "Guys, he's just messing around... are we messing with you?" "Sorry, please," Ebimo responded and dashed away immediately. The three guys burst into laughter, and soon, everyone joined in.

Dr. Ibrioma's office provided a welcome respite from the scorching sun. The air conditioning had been running for a while, and my body gradually relaxed. She had also kindly offered me cold water, which I had eagerly gulped down. Dr. Ibrioma gazed at me with the same warm smile I had grown accustomed to but had never explicitly acknowledged. "Belema, your grades are outstanding," she said, interrupting my thoughts. I smiled and replied, "Thank you, ma." She nodded and continued, "I've taken a liking to you, as you probably already know. You remind me of my son." I detected a hint of sadness hidden behind her full eyelashes, and I couldn't help but wonder what it was about me that reminded her of her son. Did she truly know me? Did she see past the exterior of Belema from Borokiri, one of Port Harcourt's toughest neighborhoods? Did she see the poor, broken boy I was? Perhaps my academic achievements had intrigued her; I assumed that's what she meant.