The rest of my service year grinded on, and before I knew it, it was time for passing out. The one year I spent as a youth corper in Enugu taught me a lot of things and opened my eyes to a different culture. I was really going to miss everything. It was a great experience I had -- from the not too bright students I taught in the secondary school, to my fellow corpers, the isi-ewu (spicy goat-head) and alcoholic drinks at the local bars at night, and most importantly, my sexual encounters with Amaka. I would guess we had sex at least twice a week all through the rest of my time there. She just couldn't get enough of me and she worshipped her "pet" at every opportunity she could. It got to a point I couldn't handle her high sexual energy and I had to drink a lot of local herbs to keep up with her insatiable appetite.
Sadly, like Nelly Furtado sang, "All good things come to an end". She resumed her course at the University of Port Harcourt a few weeks before I finished my service year. As a farewell, we spent the whole of one community development day in bed. With deep sorrow in her voice and eyes, she told me how much of a great lover I had been to her, and that she would greatly miss me and greatly miss our "battles". I tried to keep my emotions in check, but I still felt a huge knot in my throat that day. Before she left, she grabbed me and gave me a very long and passionate kiss. I told her I would someday pay her a visit in her school once I settled down back at home.
After I got back to Ibadan, I spent the next week resting before I started looking for a job. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack -- almost impossible. I reached out to my previous employers whom I worked for shortly before I started my service year, but they told me they did not have any full-time positions but they would call me if anything came up. From time to time, they would give me something to do. Around that period, I got a job as a marketer in Zenith Bank. I would spend several hours in the hot sun looking for people to open accounts. I did all this for the next year or so until I decided I had enough. Rather than waste my energy looking to bring in millions for a bank who only paid a petty sum, I would rather further myself. I "dusted off my pali" and started applying to foreign schools to further my education. I got in touch with my former roommate who was by then in Canada, and he gave me several tips on how to apply to different schools there. With my good results, I was able to secure an admission to study for my masters.
I left the shores of Nigeria for Canada at the tail end of 2015. Coming from a polar extreme climate, one would think I should have done some research into the weather before leaving. I just wore a plain polo-shirt and jeans, feeling fly and on top of the world. I almost ran back into the plane upon landing in Canada. It was freezing cold!!! My hands had already started to go numb even before I cleared customs and immigration. Luckily, my hosts were already waiting outside and they ushered me to the warmth of their home about an hour's drive away.
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My first semester was tough. I got to learn that schooling in the western world was a totally different ballgame than what we did in Naija. It was not the "cram and pass" or "read the handout" that we were used to. One had to learn the material and apply it to everything. Things as simple as assignments counted towards your final grade. Courses were not based on final exams alone; you had to pass every single quiz, test, homework, and project you were given. You had to be on your toes as even a single bad score could be the difference between passing and failing. It didn't help that as graduate students, you were held to a higher standard than undergraduates. If you fell below a certain GPA, you automatically get on probation. It also did not help that as an international student, one had to maintain status with a full course load. The professors did not care if you had other classes you were taking; you had to do the work. Most of my time was spent in the library or labs working on one assignment, project, reading for a test, or going through material for a class.
I managed to have a respectable grade-point-average that first semester. It wasn't easy, but I managed it. I vowed to put in more effort the next semester; I strategized how I would spend my time to more effect. I reached out to other students in my department who had taken most the courses, and they advised me on which professors to avoid, and those who's courses were the easiest to pass.
It was during this period I met Aneni. She was from Zimbabwe and an international student like me. She was in two of my three classes. I had seen her around the department the semester before, but I didn't know she was a graduate student like me. We sat next to each other in one of our classes one day and when the professor told us all to pair up in groups, she naturally turned to me as we were the only Africans in the class.
She wasn't really that pretty. In fact, she was quite plain. Don't get me wrong, she was not ugly. Far from it. she just was not the type of girl that turned heads. Tall, just a head shorter than my 6 feet 2 inches, her redeeming qualities were that she had a pretty decent body and fantastic lips - full and pouty. She also had a hearty laugh and smile. Other than that, she was just plain Aneni.
After then we often got together to study. I gave her the materials for her third class as it was one of the classes I took during my first semester. She shared an apartment with one other Brazilian girl just off campus, and once in a while she brought food for me to share with her in the graduate lab.
It so happened one evening that one of our professors gave us all a project to do which was due by the next class meeting. Aneni naturally paired up with me. We agreed to meet on campus for a few hours that weekend. I got down from the bus and walked towards the department. I was surprised to find the entire building locked. Even the library was shut, which was quite unusual. It was then I realized it was a holiday weekend, as there was a public holiday the following Monday. Miffed at myself, I called Aneni to inform her of the circumstances. She told me it was okay, that I could come over to her place and we study there.
She met me at the door and invited me in. She informed me her roommate had travelled for the long weekend, so we had the entire apartment to ourselves. She led me inside and I took a quick look around. While the furnishings weren't expensive or fashionable, they were nice and clean and made the place feel very homely. She asked if I would like a drink and I accepted with thanks. As she went to the fridge I could barely take my eyes off her.
She was wearing a pair of tight cut-off jean shorts, and a white slightly low V-neck t-shirt which was just as close-fitting. I never realized how round and full her boobs were before, but I now definitely noticed how they bounced as she strode across the sitting room floor. They pushed against the fabric of her shirt, the outlines of her bra very evident. She opened the fridge and bent over to get the drink from the bottom shelf, and my eyes must have bulged out of their sockets when I saw the bottom of her ass cheeks sticking out ever so slightly from her shorts.
"Deejay, are you okay?" Her voice snapped me out of my trance. She had turned around with a can of soda in hand.
