US

SETTLING IN

The hostel compound buzzed with activity. Girls dragged boxes across the concrete floor, laughter echoed from balconies, and music played faintly from somewhere above. Temilade followed the porter up the stairs, her heart racing.

The corridor smelled of detergent and instant noodles. Doors were open, voices overlapping, lives unfolding all at once.

The porter stopped in front of a door and knocked.

“New roommate,” she announced before pushing it open.

A girl with a bright, welcoming smile looked up immediately.

“Oh! Hi!” she exclaimed. “You must be the last person.”

Temilade smiled nervously. “Yes… I’m Temilade.”

“I’m Simi. Welcome!” she said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

Another girl glanced up from arranging clothes on her bed.

“Tolu,” she said simply, offering a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Temilade stepped inside, taking in the room two bunk beds, a small wardrobe, a desk by the window. Simple. Shared. New.

The porter dropped her box near an empty bed. “Sign downstairs later,” she said briskly before leaving.

The door closed.

Silence, just for a moment.

Simi was the first to break it.

“So,” she said cheerfully, sitting cross-legged on her bed, “how was the journey?”

“Long,” Temilade admitted. “Very long.”

Tolu nodded knowingly. “Port Harcourt is far. You’ll sleep well tonight.”

Temilade unpacked slowly, folding clothes, arranging her books. The nervousness in her chest eased a little as the room began to feel lived in.

“Where are you coming from?” Simi asked.

“Ilorin.”

“Ahh, Yoruba babe,” Simi teased lightly.

Temilade laughed. “Very Yoruba.”

They talked briefly about hostel rules, water schedules, where to buy food, what to expect in the coming days. Nothing overwhelming. Just enough to make the space feel less foreign.

“You’ll be fine here,” Simi said casually. “We look out for each other.”

That sentence stayed with Temilade.

Later, when her bed was made and her bag unpacked, Temilade sat down and picked up her phone.

She dialed home.

Her mother answered almost immediately.

“Have you arrived?”

“Yes, Mama. I’m in the hostel.”

“Is it safe?”

“Yes.”

“Who are your roommates?”

Temilade described them briefly.

“Good,” her mother said. “Remember yourself. Remember this family.”

“I will, Mama.”

Her father’s voice came next, steady as ever. “Focus. That is why you are there.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

When the call ended, Temilade lay back on her bed, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling.

Outside, laughter drifted through the corridor. Somewhere, a door slammed. Life continued.

She was no longer in Ilorin.

She was no longer under their roof.

And for the first time, the freedom felt real fragile, intimidating, and quietly thrilling.

The following days became a rhythm of small adventures.

Temilade explored the campus during the daytime, learning the layout of the hostels, lecture halls, and shops. She discovered corners where students gathered to smoke or share snacks, and others where silence reigned students hunched over books, notes scattered across tables.

She learned to navigate the markets near the hostel. The hawkers were persistent, shouting prices in a mixture of Pidgin and local dialects. A boy tried to sell her a notebook that had been half-used. A woman tried to sell her fried plantain she insisted was “fresh today.” Temilade laughed more than once, feeling the strange mix of thrill and exhaustion that came with independence.

At night, she and her roommates sometimes sat outside their room, the glow of the city stretching around them. They talked about trivial things: favorite foods, music, and family. Temilade shared small stories about Ilorin, careful not to reveal too much about her strict parents. Simi teased her relentlessly, calling her “the most cautious freshie in the world.” Tolu just listened, occasionally asking questions that made Temilade think.

In these moments, Temilade realized something important: she didn’t have to be the perfect daughter here. She could just… exist.

But the shadow of expectation lingered anyway.

By the fifth day in Port Harcourt, Temilade had finally convinced herself that it was time. She could no longer stay safely cocooned in the hostel, wandering only around the nearby shops and streets. The time had come to find her department, to see the place where she would spend countless hours of her life or at least try to survive it.

The morning was humid and sticky, the sun already high enough to make the air shimmer. Temilade clutched her bag close, her heart thudding with both excitement and nerves.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Simi asked, half teasing, half concerned, as Temilade slid past her in the hostel doorway.

“I think so,” Temilade replied, adjusting the strap of her backpack. “I memorized the map.”

Simi laughed. “Memorized the map, but not the faces of the lecturers. You go enter wrong class, Temi, I no go rescue you.”

Temilade rolled her eyes but smiled. Looking in the mirror she admired herself, her hair was packed in a bun with her lip gloss shinning, bring out her feminine features, she looked good.. infact she was a very preety girl.

She stepped out into the campus, the weight of independence suddenly very real. The streets were alive: students rushing to lectures, shouting over each other, laughing, arguing, sharing snacks and notes. Port Harcourt felt bigger, faster, and more intimidating in the daylight.

She walked past rows of lecture halls and administrative offices, pausing several times to consult her printed map. A group of students noticed her hesitating.

“First time here?” one of them asked.

Temilade nodded, feeling suddenly shy.

“I can show you,” another added kindly. “Which department?”

“Medicine,” she said quietly, almost embarrassed.

“Ahh, fresher!” the first girl said with a grin. “Follow us. We go same class.”

Grateful, Temilade followed them. Their conversation was easy, casual, and foreign in a good way.

“Where you come from?” one asked.

“Ilorin,” Temilade said.

“Oh, that’s far o! You dey enjoy the heat so?”

Temilade laughed softly. “It’s different, that’s for sure.”

“Don’t worry,” the girl said. “After today, everything will be normal for you.”

As they approached the building, Temilade noticed the size and imposing nature of it. The doors were tall, the halls echoing with the footsteps of students. Nervousness gripped her again.

“Don’t panic,” the girl whispered. “Lecture will soon start. Sit anywhere you like.”

Temilade nodded, swallowing her nerves as they entered the hall.

Inside, the lecture hall was buzzing with students finding seats. Some waved at friends across the room; others were already buried in notebooks. Temilade felt suddenly small, the map in her hand feeling heavy.

A girl sitting beside her leaned over.

“You’re new, right?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes,” Temilade replied.

“I’m Blessing,” the girl said, smiling warmly. “Don’t worry, the first week is just… confusing. Everybody’s lost a little.”

Relief washed over Temilade. “Thanks… I thought I’d look completely foolish.”

“You might,” Blessing laughed softly. “But we all do. Especially freshers.”

Nearby, a boy overheard and smirked. “I’m Taye,” he said. “If you need notes later, just ask. Survival tip: get friendly with people.”

Temilade smiled nervously, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and awe. These were the people she would spend her days with, navigating medicine, life, and Port Harcourt together.