As we part ways with the rocky hills of the Sunshine state, where my past four days have clinged on, the urge to add more days crept in, but duty beckons, so does the home I left floods my emotions of an homecoming, tagged in joy. Importantly, MOROUNMUBO.
Memoirs and its trepidation of wishing many days continuously remain the way they are is only by an illusion to the joys that comes with nature, if spent at a place where it is much more appreciated, that is Ondo, in fact that is in FUTA, one wing of the Sunshine State. So much more to eulogies that I could almost not remember to talk about the frivolous importance of why I was there with three of my insatiable delegates. We are to honor the call of the National Union of Campus Journalists, (NUCJ) Southwest convention, but so much more we left with.
The instructions from various instructors, students from various institutions in the southwest region, veteran journalists included, the likes of Ibrahim Alawode, Kabir Adejumo, Mr Akinbinu, and even students with more than three bylines on national dailies already send the wave of how journalistic the gathering is, but I tell you, its a convergence of different ideas, different principles, different acts and characters meeting at FUTA, and how would I ever forget the felt presence of LASUs‘ own, Oluwakemi Adelagun, I do hope times will wash your imperfections into tacit lands.
Federal University of Technology, (FUTA) gave many more memories than taught as earlier emphasized, it was a gathering of campus journalists, from the whole of the southwest region, although some were absent due to their own various reasons however important they seems. And as delegates of the Lagos State University, in us lies able representatives, and apart from the side attractions, we sure document our aim of been delegates of the Lagos State University Association of campus journalist (LASUACJ).
Our voyage which kick started I would say along the sunny roads of Ore, where nature vividly came down to us, in motion, thank God for Oluwaseye Ogunsanya,one fast rising photo journalist I know, he did captured as many moments as one could have expected.
The leaves, the green community, in fact for few minutes in our Siena, I felt it was a rain of rocks, around Ondo, from one direction to another, then to another equator, I never knew when I exclaimed unconsciously that lots of wars have been fought on this hills. That was only a reflection of how we have been made to believe and what we have been taught, and what our grand fathers told us. The old Yoruba myths.
With 155 kilometers to Ore, leaving the plains of Ogun state behind, the calmer world pours fears and panic through our fragile minds, we were three, and at this junction let me give a brief intro of this neophytes in a realm of journalism, with expected future which definitely will blaze with time and age. Olabanji Favor, a graphic designer, who left unforgettable memories in the hearts of our fellow confluence in Akure, they call him the foodie, in reference to Hamzat Marian, the chairman of the event. And then we have Ogunsanya Oluwaseye, the gentle one has believed by many, and the one who left with one crush or the other, and do I have to tell you about how a photo journalist he is, with pictures of unlikeliest of places and even in motion, this is the team that light the whole of the Sunshine state even when darkness beckons.
When we got to Akure at around 6:48pm on thursday, we navigated our way through the solitary welcome we received, it is a school that already told us, “Students are on holiday”, get we push through, and then we met a friend, we met a politically oriented individual, who’s name attracted a ascribe name from me, he was Pareto, but I added Vifredo, the great political scientist. Vifredo Pareto was our navigator through FUTA for the next twenty minutes or so, but that was the best twenty minutes of that day, the tall lanky man, down to earth, and infact which better welcome could we have gotten if not the smiles of the soon departed friend, Vifredo Pareto. And as we journey to where our next four days will be determine, Pareto departed to where he was headed with a simple click from Seyes’ camera.
The Student Union Biulding, (SUB) building was our base, it was the chosen headquarter of our three days, it was where we met fellow strangers soon to be inseparable friends, different colors and sizes, different beauties and attraction, various personalities and attitudes and what else have you in your tank of words for description. A truly” Mad House”.
Too many memoirs to jot down in the pages of book, but never ever going to be relinquished in the pages of history, maybe this names will remain with me, as I pass through times, my amiable Vice president, Taiwo Kafilat, black in beauty and free as a bird in character, sincerely she was my companion, and as I got to understand her unique personality but perhaps I would dedicate few pages for her when better times shall arrive, but till then I just hope the sun continue to shine on her days.
Then there is Akinsko, the one who’s Milo and Milk boys from our clan devoured, that’s the home that brought me to know about a friend, his name; it might take forces to forget, Olufemi Damilola the President of the NUCJ, AAUA, gentle and Intelligent, but funny enough his accent has refused to let him be, and that surely gave me so much laughter than bargain for, who knows the next convention would bring us as a family one more time. Under the roof of Akinsko also were boys from Ibadan, a state running splash of rust, one of its descendant was Slate, we call him, FPI, an abbreviation of Federal Polytechnic Ibadan, his marks where a reflection of happiness, his marks was the only thing that brought the contributions of a man twice enough to be our fathers, a shuttle driver, who lend his opinions toward the meaning and origin of tribal marks, maybe I would forget him quite soon, but I can guarantee, it will take growing into an age of helplessness.
This people actually made our stay so memorable, and all were special in the hearts of LASU delegates, I do not know if I will miss Hamzat Mariam, a blogger, A writer, and perhaps a poet, this are so much qualities we both share Mariam, but i know someone who definitely will always remember her, but more than that, she also has got the positive ego any lady should wish to posses, Mariam is a beautiful black lady don’t tell me chocolate, for once we should embrace our race.
she was all smiles, and for that I will always put her in the corridors of my history, she is a cook, a caring fellow, a companion to all, and industrious beyond weakness, I must say, I envy her base on her gender, Mariam I do hope we clash one more time at the top, even in nearer times, this time I would definitely shoot all the shots in me.
And then comes this joint twins as I would prefer to tag then, AY square, without them, perhaps it will be a boring congratulation of strict journalist, but they brought the passion needed to make our three days a candidate for the best time one would ever look back upon in the days of solitude, one may cry when you take a cab back to the memory lane of rocky Hills of FUTA, perhaps been part of the crew with this ladies isn’t a mistake after all, I remember AY 1, never ask me which, who had a crush on one of us, they where the conventions’ couple, such is the vibe they brought to the table. Young and beautiful as they are, and tomorrow is another day to smile to the sun with you girls. Incidentally, the other ladies share the same name irrespective of
religion backgrounds, they are all Mariam’s and Mary’s, but just like Shiffu in kung fu panda, “There are no accidents, its all meant to be”, for that I will take my solace.
In fact so many ways to take my solace, is it the trending dance of Seye, during one of our free sessions, I think precisely the second day of our arrival, hwy really were successful in making sure we move out of our shell of servitude, in making sure we blend with the new faces around, and the first bomb was Seye, and then Favor, the last song on the lips of everyone, and the comedian of the arena, sincerely Akure was fun
I will remember Mary, from the Imperial College of statistics, Ibadan, I will not forget Mariam, from TOPS, and her colleagues, but so much more, there is one whos’ short friendship with me, went so much more than the rest, and I can guarantee it, she definitely will be last to leave my memory, that’s even if we never get so well to walk the same paths, and let me say, she is one of the gifts I take back home from FUTA, although from Tai Solarin University of Education, TASUED, a sample of modesty as well as modernity, and her lofty voice better than many we have ever heard, although it took me more than 24hours to open up the account of saying a Hello, but the goodbye will definitely take forever before it comes, and this time even if I miss not everyone I will miss her, and great fully, she owes Lagos a project, we will be waiting for you Odumala Mariam at this edge.
That’s why I say Morounmubo… While today is her birthday so cheers to a Stardust’ mariam.. Cakes on Tasued.
Venus, the one with the tagline, ” Guys Guys” innocent in looks, but so much more than writing could explain and then Basit, a committee with an authoritative tune, we are all family as we finally realised, at the Exodus of event.
The cold nights, the Sunshines, the tours which brought the best in us, the foods and extra request we made, it was so much more, the chats and the inner connection with all of us nameless as they my seem, is a bond we will carry on, even if ages after ages, time after time, days after days and separation after separation we will continue to be, though the war may come and go but this names will forever remain, my very own NUCJ vice president, Kaffilat, my General Secretary, Hassan Abdulsallam, committee member AbdulBasit, FUTAs’ very best, Venus, Akinsko, Ayomide, 1&2, Mary, Mariam Hamzat, Mariam from Tops, Wire, FPI, Damilola, and saving the best for the last, Mariam Odumala, from Tasued.
Kareem Itunu Azeez writes from Lagos Nigeria, he is a Local Coordinator, at the students for liberty, West Africa.