My Columbia Journey – Part Four

LOST BUT FOUND CERTIFICATES  

Everything was going smoothly until I needed to fill in my university registration number in the application form. I knew it would be written on my transcript or my degree certificate, but I soon realized I didn’t have any of those available. Where did you keep them, Vivian? I would sit at my desk, brooding. Then I remembered that in January 2019, while visiting home for a family wedding, I had seen my Bachelor of Arts thesis lying in an old book shelf. It was dusty and the pages slightly browned, but the typing was legible. I had no need for it and could have tucked it back in between the other books, but I picked it up instead and took it back to Abuja with me. And so, on one of the days when I was going distraught with worry, I was struck by a thought which jolted me from my desk. I rushed to my wardrobe and, right there, tucked in between other books, was the unmistakable hard blue cover of my thesis. I drew it out. Printed in bold, gold ink on its front cover was my name, department, school registration number, and thesis title. I would eventually use this thesis as the Writing Material for my application. It was in an unrelated topic – Language and its relationship to theme in Ayi Kwei Armah’s Two Thousand Seasons – and I was so sure it would not suffice, but it was all I had that could pass for scholarly writing. Many months later, someone would read it and declare it ‘Magisterial.’ A story for another day.

My thesis now in my possession, I still could not find both the originals and copies of other certificates. I searched high and low, called everyone I thought could have them or know where I kept them. But no luck. One day, in despair, I was struck with another light bulb moment. I remembered that when I was moving to Abuja, I had left a suitcase in the custody of an aunt. I was no longer sure what it contained but it was my last hope of finding my missing certificates. I called her and she confirmed my black suitcase was in her house. Thank God!! But I had to put a brake on my excitement until I opened the suitcase. Next, I called up Clement, my tailor, and told him my predicament. I also called Niyi, a cab driver, and told him I had an assignment for him. The following day, the two men met and drove to my aunt’s house, picked up my suitcase, took it to Jibowu, and loaded it in one of the buses leaving that night for Abuja. The next morning, March 2nd, I picked up my suitcase at Jabi. Most of its contents were household items I had no use of, some I had even forgotten I ever owned. The only thing of curiosity was a frayed, green paper file. Inside it were the originals of my Degree, National Youth Service Corps, and West Africa School Certificates, GCE, JAMB and other educational certificates. Finally, I could rejoice but not before inwardly upbraiding myself. How careless can one be?

To be continued.