I woke up to the same noise again, it was just like last night, this time the chants of the students louder with each bang of the drum playing in the distance. Christine’s clock showed the time was 3 AM. What madness drives people to protest at this time? At first, my drowsiness made me think it was the usual lady cat fights about who snatched whose boyfriend, but when I heard them the second time, I knew the protesters were at it again.
This was the third time this week.
I cursed under my breath and used the pillow to cover my ears in an attempt to shut them out. “Fola, get dressed,” my roommate Christine said as she put on her favorite nightshirt, a black shirt with the words, ” FELA, KING OF AFRO POP ” inscribed on it. I pretended to yawn and pulled the covers over…
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