There are some days on campus that test your entire strength as a human being. You wake up already tired and your body is weak with your mind not even fully in this world yet. You sit on your bed for a few seconds thinking, “Do I really need this certificate?” Then your stomach reminds you that you didn’t eat well the night before, and you don’t have food money this morning either. That’s when life really starts.

You know you’re hungry. Not just ordinary hunger — the type that makes you feel empty and a bit angry at the same time. But as you’re considering skipping class to rest , suddenly it hits you: attendance is 10 marks and for some courses, those 10 marks are the difference between carrying over the course and escaping with dignity.

So even though your stomach is complaining loudly like it has a microphone, you pack your bag. You don’t even look at the mirror because you know looking at the mirror will stress you more. You just carry yourself out of the hostel like a tired warrior going to battle.

As you’re walking to class, you see people buying food by the roadside — hot puff puff, fresh akara, bread and egg. The smell alone is enough to make your legs weak. You even slow down small, thinking maybe, “If I buy the smallest one…” But your wallet is empty, so you just sigh and continue walking.

When you finally enter the class, the lecturer is already there or comes in immediately with full energy, talking fast, smiling, raising hand, pacing about — like someone who slept well and ate a three-course breakfast. Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, trying to focus, but your brain is having its own fight with your stomach.

Your stomach is shouting:

“We need food now!”

Your brain is replying:

“Relax, let’s just get the attendance first.”

Your eyes are fighting sleep, blinking like faulty streetlights.

Then the lecturer says something complicated, and everyone is writing. You look at the board, and the words are entering your notebook but not entering your head. There's a huge disconnect between your stomach and your head.

Sometimes the lecturer cracks a joke and students laugh, but you don’t laugh because your body does not have the energy for laughter. You just manage a small smile, hoping the class ends soon.

Finally, after what feels like three hours (even though it’s just 50 minutes), the lecturer drops the attendance sheet. Your spirit immediately wakes up. You collect it with the strength of a thousand soldiers, write your name, and pass it on.

At that moment, everything feels worth it.

And as you walk out of the class, still hungry but relieved, you tell yourself,

“At least I got the 10 marks.”

It’s funny how campus life trains students to survive on motivation, stress, hunger, and attendance marks. You learn endurance without even knowing. And even though it’s tough, when you look back someday, you’ll realize these little struggles are part of what made the whole journey unforgettable.