FINGAS

 About The Book

This work shows the struggle of some well-intended intellectual personalities fighting to renew a corrupt system of a university. As inspired by the work of Ayi Kwei's The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born where the misspelt "Beautyful" depicts a state of political disorderliness in the then Ghana society, FINGAS, indicates such situation in Nigeria. 

These five main entities —Ngugi, Abdullah, Frank, Solace and Mr Okunowo —fought together the corrupt system with a view to solving the problems authority poses to students and other members of staff on campus. Even till now, the corrupt system is persistent. This is the implication of the expression made by two of the characters, "...I killed him, but nothing stops. When you kill the god of war, the war ends...". 

Shortly after the last lecture he had that clement day, he moved to the pavement at the periphery of the lecture room, and saw a band of campus political drummers beating to excite the passersby. Abdullah, by name. He was a lover and master of many theories and philosophies. He had presumably idealized Karl Marx, who he took after for his passion to rid man from the shackle of political coma. He watched the manifestos going on. Certainly, without being told, the atmosphere was sufficient to tell an alien that the period was anticipating a new regime which led to frequently political displays on campus. If available there, you could hear, “Vote for Mayor, for Mayor...” This, as Abdullah kept observing from distance, he watched and then muttered something to himself in a confused demeanor which, perhaps, he had read in a novel some weeks before that moment,

“I killed him, yet... But, nothing stops. When you kill the god of war, the war has to end.”

Suddenly, he looked up in the sky as if expectant of a blessing or revelation from the heavenly Body, yet nothing descended. But, the descension of his face marked some degree of rearmament to wrestle a sturdy enemy. There upon, he fused within himself, and put a distance between him and the manifestos spot. 

The next day on campus. A multitude of students seated anticipating the arrival of the GNS lecturer. Although no traces of him to tell whether or not he would show up eventually, yet nobody moved a budge. Abdullah ceased the medium to mouth something in Frank's ear. Frank, as many would call him. Truly, his real name is Fakunle Joshua. But popularly know as Frank for his bold activism in matters affecting students on campus. But with a sheer dislike for politics. Both of them took a solace in the niche situated outside the building to have a dialogue. Abdullah initiated the conversations, 

“Frank, it's gonna happen again. Have you sensed it.” 

“... Sensed what?... Pardon me!” In a confused state of mind, Frank inquired rather response. 

Abdullah felt disillusioned following Frank's passivity to campus politics, he bitterly remarked, 

“Oh boy! Don't act funny... This is yet another abuse and infringement of right. The authority pranks on our intelligence again.”

“Did you mean,... This must be a joke... Are you saying the authority is yet an inhibition to the students' rights?!” Frank retorted. 

“You've just hit the nail on the head... That's it. So, what do we do?” In a depressed yet elated mood, Abdullah responded.

Unexpectedly, a voice voiced from behind them, 

“What we should do, right? I've often learnt, there is nothing like coincidence in politics... At all sides and levels, politics is the same. As a matter of fact, if anything happened, it happened because it was planned. We must act fast, if we need solution.” 

Abdullah and Frank gazed at each other wondering to whom the voice belonged. They became ecstatic knowing it was Ngugi's. Ngugi, not the renown Kenyatan author, but an emulator of the author. His real name, Azeez Tobi. He idealized the philosophy of Ngugi Wathiong'O. As such, He was politically and socially oriented. Students loved him for his unstinting academic support, and his unflinching interest and potency in writing; a prolific writer, he was. Abdullah grinned for the arrival of what he might lovely termed "the saviour", subject to the fact that he was vast learned. Ngugi then remarked, 

"With the situation on ground, I culminate that the authority is compromised. Thus, it's taking side. Sequel to our passivity couple of regimes ago, many anomalies reigned and, even, up to this instant..." 

He paused a while, allowing cool breeze on the tensed atmosphere. Afterwards, he culminated that there were two ways to end this dismayed situation.

" To put an end to this political menace, from experience, it is either we join them —to be subjective in our approach, or we take the bull by the horns. Perhaps, we favor objectivity. We either take a side or we are silent for eternity." 

"Never, brother!" Frank retorted. Just as an activist would say, he again voiced out, 

"When a dog is being scalded by hot water it will fear, even, cold one..." 

"Pal, think of the implications, though. There are consequences for rash actions, we must note." Ngugi interrupted, hither.

Abdullah and Frank went dumb apropos the last submission he made. 

"You know what?" Ngugi said, "Give me some time to fine-tune my blueprint, I will put you on notice sooner." 

He left after he had his last words. They both watched him going in surprise. Suddenly, Abdullah broke the spell of silence, saying, "Having him on our side is an asset to many problems."

"Not anymore! We can't accommodate this shit again. We should have been informed that the presidential seat is gonna be unopposed. But, rather, they exploited us... No! We can't welcome this shitty thing." TJ lamented. 

His reaction was sequel to the information reaching him from Abdullah through Frank. Frank pacified him saying, 

"Lamenting in one corner of the room won't solve this crisis. We need to act fast as said by Ngugi..." 

"Is Ngugi in already?" with utmost ecstasy, TJ reflexively interrupted. 

"Sure, he is. He even said he ha... that he has a plan." Frank responded. 

"I have got to get this to the right quarters... We are being sidelined again." TJ said and left without saying a word to his visitor —Frank. 

Within three days, the information had gone viral. You could clearly see placards placed on trees and walls both inside and outskirt of the campus with inscriptions conveying the minds of the students. Some of the inscriptions read, "We won't allow this ELECTION to HOLD","Mr authority,this is our FIGHT","La Aluta Continua!","We Owe You No Apology","POLITICS; A DIRTY GAME","Deception!","We no go GREE!","ONLY BY ADDRESSING THE ROOT CAUSES —The SYSTEM ITSELF— WILL WE ACHIEVE A SANE SOCIETY"..., and many more.

Later that day, the office of the University Electoral Commission(UEC), under the watch of the Dean of Students' Affairs, welcomed myriad of reports following the crisis occurring at the moment. Mr Segun, famously known as Doc, who was bound under some superior hegemony was the ceremonial leader of the committee. No man is and island, as they often say. Having got some of the reports whirling around the hood, instead of empathizing the students he mimicked the situation and gave it a hearty laughter.  

"These kids are crazy! This university survives under our leadership... You don't get it, we sustain it, for crying out loud! Ceteris paribus, many of them have just four years to spend in here. After that, all assets still recourse to us. What's the hell with them, for goodness sake? Besides, Mr Okunowo, is this not the very type of politics run outside world, is it not?... Fuck them all!" he reacted. 

Sitting in the room with him was Mr Okunowo who happened to be a member of the UEC presiding over election matters on campus. Mr Okunowo's countenance seemed fearful as if he was being threatened by devil. Perhaps, he despised the situation on ground, who knows? 

"Doc, pardon me. If I may ask, why did you sideline Aristotle? I mean, why have you denied him and his fans their rights?" Mr Okunowo simply inquired. 

"...this is a normal thing, it is done everywhere in the world, my dear." What a mess! A man of such magnitude. Even he himself knew that he had just committed a strong fallacy; the question was why did you sideline Aristotle? Well, intelligence is not measured, sometimes, by the height of one's qualifications in life. 

Aristotle was the opponent presidential candidate to Mayor, whose side Abdullah and Frank support. Mr Okunowo retorted, 

"Why exactly, sir?"

"I was put on instruction to do that... Don't bother me much longer... You know, you may have to see the Don if you wanna know why. End of story!" he reacted showing a mean demeanor, then, suddenly, burst into laughter. 

"Don?... Who?!... I mean who is he? Or she?! Are we being used by some forces?" in a confused state of mind, Mr Okunowo rhetorically inquired. 

Thereupon, he wondered, soliloquizing an expression, 

"Why are humans feeling aught of guilt?... We take too much pleasure, solace in guilt... But, these students paid the dues for the entrant forms..."

No sooner had he finished expressing his thoughts than they heard a knock on the threshold. Who was it, were they expecting somebody? Seemed like a delivery has come from the secretary. The secretary came in the office with an outstretched hand holding a piece of envelop, then handed it over to Doc, 

"Sir, a delivery for you." 

He gazed at the inscription on the front leaf of the envelope which read, "In solidarity with the students, Ngugi". He heaved a heavy sigh of relief in trepidation. Perhaps, was he afraid of the inscription, or the content of the envelop? Or rather, the author of the letter? I'm lost to confusion. He was quite aware of the reputation and influence of this guy around the student-hood even his integrity transcended his campus realm to other campuses in the country. The Open Letter; 

Open Letter To The UEC

There is no gainsaying the fact that just as we have differences apropos our natures, we see things quite differently as well. As such, we are endued with different intellectual capacities, strengths, and integrities. There are about ten thousand and one minds crying out of subjugation and deprivation of rights. On this note, I, alongside some reputable bona-fide souls of this institution, resolved to empathize the alarming situation in a more courteous and polite approach rather than placement of placards all over around. We seek your apology on their behalves. 

We resolved, with regards to the point above, that the UEC owes us(students at large) an apology as well as explanation following the removal of our legitimate candidate —Aristotle(Opeyemi Isiak Brown). Despite our obedience to pay all dues, some days ago, we observe that the authority has perpetrated what they used to do to us. Thus, why, has our candidate been sidelined again? For what cause? The reason is quite route above our heads. Thus, we feel cheated. We will be glad to have a response sooner. Thanks. 

Ngugi

"This is getting out of hand. How dare this brat challenging us? The Don must hear this!" with rose of indignation falling on his face, he showed the most bitter demeanor and dashed out of the office just as a newly incarcerated he-goat. 

It was already four days to the delivery of the letter while Ngugi and his team had been waiting endlessly for the reply. But nothing happened. Out of provocation, Ngugi put another essay across to the body which made the authority feel threatened. Another letter to the authority;

Open Letter: A Blink To Strike

As trained artists, we fight hatred with love. We fight bigotry, with inclusivity. Democracy could be anything but this. About four days ago, we put across to you the mayhem of our hearts so as to settle it amicably. Sadly enough, nothing was done about it. We don't have enough days watching the crab blinks at the river bank. Whether or not we say it, death tolls at every man's door step. A mess is a mess irrespective of who carries it. We may have to let loose the dogs of vandalism. I rest my case. 

Ngugi 

The sixth day to the delivery. In the Castle of Fodio, one of the male hostels, lived Ngugi. 

"Oh! A minute, please." responding to the knocking on his threshold. 

He advanced toward the door and opened. He saw a familiar face identified as TJ. TJ stepped in exchanging pleasantries in French, 

"Bonjour, mon ami(good day, my friend)"

"Bonjour" Ngugi responded, "Hope no issue?" he, again, added. 

"Nope!" TJ spontaneously answered. 

Having gained admission into Ngugi's lodge, he gazed at the beautifully arranged library hanging on the wall and books neatly arranged by the bed with some novels placed on the side, which he might probably be reading. He was lost in the wonderment. 

"TJ, what's the matter? Well, maybe you've come to say 'Hello'?" Ngugi inquired. 

Then, TJ became conscious of his position and responded like someone on a mission. You know, somebody on a mission of moral poisoning. That is a serious task. 

"Am... Truly, I have come to do everything. Just everything. Or, what should I say?... Mmmm, I have got a message for you, brother." TJ replied stutteringly. "I was at, emm,... The Comforter's Hall today to meet with Abdullah. But, fuck that guy for his obstinacy! Then, I decided to check on you to deliver you the message, after which I will visit Everest Hall to pass it to, emm,... Frank!" TJ related. 

In a bid to capture the intent behind TJ's story, Ngugi gave a rapt attention to the information. But, eventually, he couldn't pick a sense out of it. Thus, he reacted, 

"TJ, what's the point?" 

"So, you've not been able to get my point?... Okay. The authority... I know this is gonna sound crazy, but, but, it is till must deliver it. I mean, must be delivered. Okay, now! Ngugi, following your capacity on campus, the authority wants you to, to, to compromise with them. Their is a huge reward for your obedience. I swear...(observing Ngugi's indifference, he called his name with fear) Nngungi?" 

There was indication of betrayal in his voice, he was particularly mesmerized by trepidation throughout his speaking. Like an iron just taken out from the furnace was Ngugi's pair of eyes. He looked up as if to grab him by the neck. But to prevent temptation and eventuality, he said rather harshly, 

"The enemy of my enemy... is my friend: the enemy of my friend... is my enemy: the friend of my friend... is my friend: likewise, the friend of my enemy is my enemy." 

He sprang on his feet and looked TJ in the eyes, then said, 

"Young man, move straight out of the threshold and shut the door behind you!" 

So, he became frightened and left as told. Alone in the room, Ngugi's eyelids were laced with tears, wondering how unreliable and treacherous man could be. 

"We were in this struggle together, a week ago. How come, has his passion been maneuvered?" he added in a very plaintive tone. 

Yet, that moment, there was another knock. 

"Who's the hel...(umph) Please, just come on in." 

He nearly overreacted in his response. A lady, this time. The figure that came in excited mixed feelings in him. Just like a bittersweet feeling: TJ marked the bitterness, while she stood for sweetness. She is, by name, Solace: a baby lawyer at the university. When it comes to politics, she was more politically oriented than her male counterparts, Ngugi. Nevertheless, hardly would you see her venturing in unconcerned matters. Favour found its way on team Ngugi. Whether or not, the truth will grow a tongue to defend itself. 

"I have been eavesdropping your dialogue with that nut. Is that why you are restless? Come on, you are more than that... Just let him go, I've got you guys' back. If this matter is gonna lead us to anything, I'm ready to bear the consequences. However, permit me to be a brain working in the shadow behind this struggle." 

She spoke to Ngugi in confidence, trying to dispel his paranoia. 

"Thanks for your painstakingness and comity" Ngugi said, to show his gratitude to her. 

Just like Abdullah had said earlier, she also reacted, 

"... I killed him. But, nothing stops. When you kill the god of war, the war ends." 

As if Ngugi had wanted to say exactly what she said, having heard this from her, he retorted, 

"You mean, it's sturdy,... we can't overpower it?" 

He stopped and then spoke in a plaintive tone, 

"...But then, we can't keep looking doing nothing... Had it just been for its sturdiness, I would care less. But, it's contagious and infectious as viral disease: TJ has been contaminated now... The SUG often care less about us once they assume the office: high cost of living and prices are always skyrocketing on daily basis. Whereas, these are part of the projects they promise to fix for us. In the end, nothing happens. Across the hostels on campuse, I know of many students who live below one dollar per day. HOW ON EARTH WOULD THEY LAST UNDER THIS CONSTRAINT? Tell Me!... No transparency in admission, topical matters that require instant address by the SUG are abandoned. We need a leader who will work just for us. A leader that will be rid from external hegemony... Are we blameworthy for trying to procure our desires, are we?... We are doomed, if we can't device a way of overcoming this staunch enemy of man."

Solace advanced toward him, trying to get him relaxed from his tension. Then, touched him, placing her soft palm about his neck close to the shoulder, then gently caressed him. Immediately, the hysteria was dispelled leaving him with just Romeo's emotion. Truly, they were proposing to posterity to get married. In the spur, the light faded but nothing transpired. 

Now, a week to the delivery of the letter. In a male hostel known as Cerebullum Temple, at about 6 o'clock ante meridiem, arrived the Chief Security Officer(CSO) of the university along with some security officers on an inspection to investigate the cause of the battery which took place earlier that day. 

"Where is the victim?" asked the CSO. 

The students showed him the way to the victim's lodge. It was reported that about 5 o'clock this morning, a gang of trio broke in the lodge and attacked a finalist(a final year student) later identified as Socrates on the account of his activism in politics. He was supposed to be aspiring the office of the SUG vice president seat along with Mayor. Anyone present in the villa could see stains of blood all over observable objects in the room. The most terrifying horror in the room was the white shirt suspended on a hanger speckled with redness. It was a gory scene. After all, as the Yoruba ethnic group would say, the knife had cut the vein, casting it away is pointless, nothing else could be done to prevent the cut. The CSO watched in awe, wondering the level of bestiality displayed by mere students. He then asked of the victim. Thereupon, the students told him the victim had been rescued to the university medical center. While carrying out the inspection of the room, one of the officers observed a piece of note on the rug, then picked it. He scanned through and beheld a writing on it. The inscription read thus, "That's a warning for him to quit. In fact, he was just a victim not the target: Mayor must be hunted. He is not our man, we want Aristotle." 

He quickly turned the paper as though something was written on the other page. 

"Yes sa, we haf a probblem. You nid to see dis." he voiced out. 

For about five minutes he took the piece from the officer, the CSO was lost in bewilderment. Neither was he able to utter a word nor move a muscle. He finally heaved a sigh of relief to alley his fear, and instructed his team, "Let's move!"

The students watched them going in horror as if the incident marked the first man's demise on earth. 

"Mr Fakunle Joshua, you are wanted at the security unit." in a thick voice, an officer said to Frank. This happened to be the eighth day of the delivery, at Everest Hall, where Frank resided. He, of course, was caught oblivious, wondering for what cause was his presence needed at the unit. Certainly, he had no reason to be awash with fear for this is a university: a sane society, to him. Perhaps, he thought wrong. He was aware of the attack which took place yesterday at Cerebellum Temple. Maybe, he was already a suspect to know why. 

"Why would you just rush in without courtesy? You should show some regards to people's privacy. You don't do that!" Frank boldly reacted. 

The officer was shocked wondering how audacious the man called Frank was. The name aptly suited him, to confess. In a jiffy, the CSO was in and, in a thicker voice, instructed, 

"Get him!... I pity you young man, you have no idea of the consequences."

Frank attempted to give the CSO an aptly well-structured response but the heavy slaps put across his face gave him instant contours which made his words difficult to pronounce. He realized that the matter was not what he had supposed it. The students in the building attempted to help but the mean demeanor of the CSO was something exciting horror. 

That same day, the campus ambience witnessed yet another protest. This time, to save the man of the people. Once the information got to Abdullah who was just returning from traveling that day, he quickly put a call across to Ngugi. Both of them met with the angry mob and they tried to calm the belligerent faces. 

"Great Nigerian Students! Articulate Nigerian Students! Ever Dynamic Nigerian Students! Of The Greatest 'Gbogbo'! Of The Greatest 'Gbagba! Of the Greatest, Greatest 'Gbogbo-Gbagba'! I seek your audience, dear all. It would be so erroneous of me to prevent you from staging this fight, for this is a fight we must fight. But before commencing the war, let's listen to what Ngugi has got for us, please." Abdullah said. 

Hoping to get a response from this angry mob but not a single complementary word was made by them. Ngugi stepped forward, looking at the soldiers who were ready to turn the great renowned mountain Everest into dust, if it would be a constraint. 

"Without modicum of doubt, university is the microcosm of the universe. By fact, it is a running miniature of life. Before our eyes were broadly open, after the opaque moment of the night, we often received knocks from politics. As it happened a couple of years back, it surfaced last year. The prospect of which is held before us this very moment. Deception, as confirmed, is a tool used in politics. Many are forced to believe that politics is a dirty game. Surely, we build our experience mostly on what we see and perceive, as the psychologists would say. In the outside world, just as it happens in here, many are beaten by unfulfilled promises of the politicians whose promises seem like the replica of the glory of the 15th-day moon which loses its value and illumination as it forms a full moon. The benefits and success the authority is dwelling on, is a legacy left behind by many of our past patriotic heroes many of whom didn't wait to reap from the fruits of their labours. The tears of the people, their mayhem, and sadness came as a result of extreme subjugation. No wonder Ngugi Wathiong'O said in his work, '...Those who struggle for Uhuru could not benefit from its fruits...' We are supposed to be listened to but social classification is the yardstick to say who is who. It's a menace we must stop: Inequality, stratification and double standard. Democracy could have been anything in anywhere but this happening on our campus. As such, we are scholars, we must be excessively particular in our approaches. We don't need arms to stage our minds. It's pointless, in a sane setting like this. Even if I was apprehended like it happened to Frank, peaceful protest must be staged." 

Hardly had Ngugi rounded off his submission than the CSO grabbed him from behind. Had he been to a magic worker? How could he have divined his imminent arrest? The students wanted to rage but were suppressed by the armed security officers. The scene became chaotic. Then, safety first. Abdullah and Ngugi were driven off and they resigned to fate. 

A week later, it was said that the trio —Abdullah, Frank and Ngugi — were alleged by the university senate stating, they were responsible for the attack at the Cerebullum Temple. They were suspended for eight semesters. So sad. But an information went viral that Socrates survived the gory injury. Who could have done it? Well, that was rhetoric. But then, truth shall reign and grow a tongue one day. 

Twenty years later. How time flies? After his suspension from campus, Ngugi stood at the periphery of the admin office, gazing straight at the Castle of Fodio. In his face, one could observe a distinct feature of great accomplishment. He made it eventually in life. Where he stood, he reminisced the incident that claimed his friend's life, Frank. That time, before the truth was discovered as to who attacked Socrates, Frank, being a tough character had been subjected to excruciating torture by external criminal investigative body, who took up the matter thinking that he was the perpetrator of the battery. In the end, he died of hemorrhage. This made Ngugi to shed tears. (phone ringing) "Little fella, salaam aleikum (peace be on you). It's nice hearing from you, guy. How is everything in California?... Same o same o!... Okay, I will be back in the state, sooner... Not your side. I mean Washington. Perhaps, for my leave. Abdullah, I have missed you... Bye." (phone conversation) 

He, again, looked up straight watching Cerebullum Temple trying to recall the incident. He kept looking straight ahead blankly in the air until he saw nothing but the incident that led to his suspension. 

"...You are hereby suspended for eight semesters." the Chairman of the University Disciplinary Committee said to the trio —Abdullah, Frank and Ngugi. 

They felt dejected, at first, but had in minds that "Falsehood shall never reign eternally over Truth.". After a month of suspension, Solace summoned Ngugi and Abdullah to a friend's place. For what could that be? It was all because she researched the causes of the attack. But then, she was yet to establish exactly who did it. 

"Ever since the day the nut, I mean TJ, left your apartment, I have put him under surveillance. He connived with the Doc, that's Mr Segun, and Prof. Eugene who is reputably known as the Don. They planned to cast you guys off campus because you were constraints to there ill wills. This was said by Mr Okunowo from the UEC." she submitted. 

Ngugi sighed, back to reality. 

"How truthful is the expression, 'University, the microcosm of the universality'." he wondered. 

He tried focusing on the past again. Surely, his strong wings of imagination traversed him to the history. A session had elapsed, already, after the revelation. By implication, they had about six more semesters to stay off campus. During this time, Frank was in detention. One afternoon, Solace summoned another meeting with the two, alongside Mr Okunowo. Solace told them, 

"I know this is gonna be painful to you guys that your friend, TJ, led the gang attack at Cerebellum Temple..." before she could round off her speech, both interrupted, "T what?!": "This guy is son of a bitch!..." said Abdullah. "My goodness, Oh God!..." Ngugi. Before the beginning of a new session, all the culprits –Doc, TJ and the other two gangs who perpetrated the attack at the Cerebullum Temple– save Prof. Eugene were sent packing. He was insurmountable somewhat; he was not alone as he had garnered ample political clout in and outside. Having him in the system would create more complications, of course. 

Ngugi and his two friends had wasted a session before the truth was discovered. By this time, it was late to rescue Frank from the tragedy. Life is indeed absurd. 

Back to reality, he was still standing around the admin floor where he unconsciously started fumbling his left hand with his right. Then, something transpired in him which excited him to look straight at his ten fingers. He marvelled at the uneven sizes and imbalance structures of the fingers, 

"Isn't this the nature of man: the society of man?"

He stopped and went into one of the offices.

"Good day to you all. How've you been? Today, we have ENG154, titled Literature And Society. Our interests in this course is to examine the very functions of literature in the very society of man. There is a common term, we all must allow to keep ringing in us, which comes thus, 'Literature Does Not Exist In A Vacuum'." Ngugi addressed the students. 

He appeared before his students addressing all. This time, he was a lecturer at the institution. He made it at last. Notwithstanding, his success was still not free from the threat of the Prof Eugene, who had become a sturdy element against students' and staff's liberties.

"Literatures we read reveal facts to us. Just as our uneven fingers depict meanings, if we pay enough attention to them." he said. 

He put up his right hand in the air, perhaps, starting with such symbol will create a better picture of the course.