Through My Eyes: Olamide’s Take on Time

Time

How time flies!
Memories flood my heart as I begin with the words of my friend and partner in crime, Olamide Daniel, and I quote:

It takes 60 minutes for the long hand to complete one hour, but it takes one step for the short hand to complete that same 1 hour. No matter the distance, no matter the journey, they still finish in one hour.

Here is a video of his words, and I open a chapter of his struggle in life.

I begin with how we met at Shagamu. Olamide was a good boy. I tell you, every time I spent with Olamide, it was like heavens on earth. Like, Olamide was outspoken, and his confidence made me smile 😁😊. Olamide—people called him “Professor” because he was a sophic mind, always immersed in profound contemplation like the great philosophers of old. I would call him a philosophical autodidact, ha ha ha 😁.

During our early days, Olamide was reading like a philosophical idiot, calling names of drugs in pharmacology like he was trying to summon demons.

He read like a machine. Below is a picture of Olamide while reading under the street lamps during a night reading process.

Olamide was a bibliomaniac, bibliophage, and omnilegent person. He was a man after knowledge.

But what about his sufferings? What about his fun life? Olamide was not a total bibliomaniac; he was funny too 🤣. After every single night reading adventure, he always talked about his newly found friend called Funto. Funto was also a night reader, with whom Olamide’s chemistry flowed together.

Olamide and I suffered during our four hundred level semester days. Olamide could fast for days, and I barely ate once in a day. It wasn’t easy, but I knew how we suffered.

Olamide usually complained of his roommate consuming all his food. His roommate liked cooking together with him only when Olamide had foodstuffs, but when he was out of foodstuffs, his roommate went back to a mode where he prevented Olamide from eating with him. That happened for a while, but Olamide was a busy person. I remember when he would come to meet me for food, and most times, he slept in my room. Olamide was a kind guy. If I didn’t have gas, Olamide would borrow me his. Soon, Olamide started cooking in my room. He brings most ingredients... It was a relief 😁.

But guys, during our stay in the school for night reading, rats would invade our house. I remember the day they ate my fish, semovita, and all. I cried, but no, no, no—I cooked the leftover because I was hungry. I started hanging my food on the ceiling top.

For I was suffering in that room which was leaking. Hmm! It was a terrible situation in that place. I hardly lived in my room. At some point, I reside in the school, and this was the same for Olamide. The rooms became vacant and had a roomy smell—a pungent smell of rats or rodents.

It was really, really terrible. I would clean it up... But every time I return.. same situation.
I started living in the school ’cause I had to watch over the rats and all. Trekking to and from was not easy. I looked like an unkempt kid. Olamide was my adviser. He always told me to take care of myself...

Times like that can’t be bought with money. I spent beautiful time with Olamide. He was fun, and around me was my best friend. He was the first to check on me, and there were tough days when we fell sick—malaria and all.

Oh, I remember the days of blackout in OSUTH—how time really flies. Initially, we would read inside the mosque, but soon, some people started stealing phones in the mosque. We began to read in a church, and soon they sent us out of that church. We moved to the radiology department; they said that we were destructive and made noise. We moved to the street; they said emergency cases and vehicles could collide with us. We read like we had no tomorrow. We argued over what we read.

Olamide and I were great readers.
Ha! Those times can’t be traded for anything.

Faruk was our question manager. He was a question researcher, father of whining, and a corporate crytomaniac.
He cashed out during the days of null and many more. We called him a baller. He was a baller—and a friend.

I remember those days when Olamide would ask questions, and I would reply. Most times, I wouldn’t remember—they would remind me. Faruk reminds me. They always do.

Olamide had a blood type O. He donated blood to survive. Olamide would have donated up to 10 times in OSUTH. He donated to survive 🤣🤣🤣🙀 . He was also a tutor. He taught in schools to survive.🌝🌝😄

How time flies—I haven’t forgotten about my gas... It was stolen during my school days. Life was hard 😁.

But here I am to say: congratulations to you—your time, your devotion, really paid.