My mother's hope.

I was at the bunk with some friends as usual when my phone rang. I picked up the call and I was informed that the sessional results had been pasted on the notice board. I quickly extinguished the fire in my cigarette and reached out for my shirt where I hung it.

"Peter, are you going to campus now?" Segun, relaxing his face after gulping alomo bitters, asked me.

"Of course, yes," I responded to him. "I need to go and check my results."

"Guy, sit down and let's enjoy ourselves. Will the results run from the notice board? What about checking it tomorrow?"

I had to step aside from inhaling the smoke coming out of Ola's mouth and nose as he asked me those questions.

I didn't respond to him. I sprayed perfume on my body before bending to find my way out of the bunk. I left Ola and Segun behind.

The trio of Ola, Segun and I were friends in the university. Our point of connection wasn't academics despite studying the same course and at the same level. We shared similar interests in drinking alcohol, smoking and partying. Academics was our secondary assignment. The bunk refers to a space cleared along the river bank where we do meet to drink and smoke. Once there, nothing can take us out before dusk. Not lectures or any other activity. After the missed classes, I would reach out to my classmates that attended the classes in order to get updated about any assignments or tasks.

I arrived at the notice board within twenty minutes. I met a huge population jostling over one another to check their results. My height served as an advantage. With the help of my pen tip, I traced my matriculation number to the courses recorded in front.

"C, B, D, B, C," I sighted the grade recorded in each of the ten courses that I offered. The sixth result came as F. Sighting the grade wiped out the remaining traces of dizziness occasioned by my previous alcohol consumption.

I had just failed HMT 305, a prerequisite to a course in year 4. I needed to pass the course before moving to year 4. My finger found its way into my mouth. I chew it absentmindedly in regret.

"Am I on my way out of my dream course? Will I ever become a medical laboratory scientist with this performance?" Many questions occupied my mind.

I went to my Head of department (HOD) to find out about the way forward. I never knew that I was crying until I felt the salty taste of my tears that fell on my lips.

"Peter, what's the problem?" The head of the department asked me even before I greeted him.

"I failed HMT 305, Sir. I am finished. What will I tell my mother? The poor widow that is ready to sell her clothes to pay my fees."

"What was your expectation?" The HOD asked me. I was confused at the question. "Every teacher should know that the expectation of his or her students is to pass the examinations," I thought.

"Sir, my expectation was to pass all my courses. Unfortunately, I failed the most important course for my progression."

"Peter," the HOD stood up and tapped me on my shoulder. "You can't prioritize the less important thing and expect a great performance in the important things that you relegated to the backseat which is your academics in this case."

I feigned ignorance of what he was saying. "What do you mean by prioritizing the less important thing, Sir?" I asked him.

He withdrew his face from mine shortly before answering. "You came from somewhere more important to you. It is obvious. You missed lectures. You missed practicals. You can't eat your cake and have it."

I realized that the HOD knew some details about my actions outside the campus.

"Sir, it is obvious that I am about to pay the unexpected price. What will I tell my mother?" I lamented aloud with my hands on my head.

"It's as if you are the hope of your mother. Can you tell me a little about your family?"

All I wanted to hear was the way forward. I was eager to know if the situation can be salvaged at all. The ball was in his court in this case. I had no choice than to keep the conversation going.

"My father died many years ago. I was in primary school then. As the only child, my mother took it upon herself to give me a quality education. On many occasions, she was proud to see me as her only hope for a better old age. She believed that I was going to change her situation for the better. The hope is sliding away."

"You are making it to slide away," the HOD cuts in. "You knew where you came from. You know why you are here. Unfortunately, you knowingly deviate from all that. You spend more time smoking and drinking than you do for your studies. I am disappointed in you. Your mother would be disappointed in you if she was aware of what you are doing on campus."

I bowed my head in shame. I was watching every one of my mistakes on an imaginary screen.

"Peter, you have one more chance to renew the hope of your mother."

"How, Sir?" I asked with a lot of concentration.

"A resit examination has been approved by the university Senate. Prepare for the examination in the next four weeks."

I flew up from my chair in jubilation. "This is the first time it is happening. I will make good use of this rare privilege," I declared.

"I know your capability. You are more than capable of passing this course. Correct your mistake and make your mother proud of you," he concluded.

I heeded the advice. I practically declared a state of emergency for the resit examination. Whenever a planned outing with my friends coincided with my reading plan, I jettisoned the former for the latter. My discussion with my HOD and the hope of my mother in me kept ringing in my head.

I wrote the examination successfully. The result came out and I got an A.

"This has set the stage for actualizing your dream. Prioritize your studies over anything else," my HOD advised me when I went to inform him of my grade from the resit examination.

I rediscovered myself throughout the remaining two academic sessions. I graduated in flying colors. I went back home to proudly inform my mother that her hope in me was alive and about to be actualized.