GUENTEMALLA PT 2.
1478 Words
Monday evening came as flash. I decently dress in my favorite brown wrap dress and rush to my classes. Go there in time, sit at the back to see everyone who is walking in.
To my surprise, people aren’t as interested in literature as I do. Only five men walked in. Making me the only lady in the room.
“New writer in the room?” One man asked and all eyes were on me. Are they all writers?
“Nope. I am just a literature fan.” They all nodded while turning their heads back to the board.
Who I assumed was the lecturer walked in at 08pm sharp. My eyes narrowed at him. The painter guy?
He grinned, putting his stuff on the desk, shoving his hands in his pockets. “How have you all been?” He asked.
“Great. Fine. Cool.” Everybody replied.
Now I see why he was interested in approaching me after seeing me in this place the first day.
“I missed being here. I was curious to see what all of you have prepared.”
Did he act like he didn’t see me or he didn’t see me? I was puzzled. Watching him walking from desk to desk to oversee whatsoever they agreed on preparing.
He reached my desk, smirking as always. “I didn’t know there was a sixth person in there.” He put on act. “Madam? Would you mind telling us who you are? What are you doing and what are you looking for in this class?” He said, walking back to the front.
“Sure. I am Evelyn Mosa, taking a bachelor of Community and development studies at the University of Xenonia. I am born to write.”
They applauded. Mr. The lecturer sat on the table in the front row. “Ever published anything so far? We would all love to support our young writer?” One of them asked.
“Well… No. I hope to start doing so after this course.”
“I liked the energy, Miss Evelyn. But, relying on the course to create something alone will take you years. Because the courses are continuous.” The other mentioned.
“I’ll take that as advice. Thank you.”
Everyone else kept quiet, staring at Mr. Lecturer to say something. “Well, in respect of the first lady on our course for two years, why don’t we introduce ourselves? Why are we taking this course?”
They didn’t look bothered by the request. Each started to introduce oneself, and a few works they published. Some mentioned their achievements in writing so far, and some appreciated how Mr. The lecturer and his courses took them from one step to the other in writing.
Looks like the room was full of professionals, quite aged people and complete writers. Except one lady student in the room.
“I hope everyone’s introduction is a source of inspiration to our new writer?” He stared at me and I nodded in agreement.
“ Well, I am Zack Moore.” My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Moore. Is he related to Xavier Moore in any way? People do share surnames in this country and might still be strangers to one another anyway. “I’ll be taking you through this course this year. And I’m looking forward to full participation as always.” He stepped down from the table and walked to the stage.
Taking his teaching materials and spread them to the whole class. I have scanned what you have prepared all along. I can say it isn’t that bad but, I want you to read these, and … come up with something new out of what you have created so far next Monday.” He really looks like a pro in this. I thought he was only an artist. How blessed is he to be an author too?”
“Our discussion will commence on Wednesday. Have a good evening you all. Miss Mosa, See me please.”
Everyone looked satisfied, packed their stuff and walked out. Once again, I am sharing a room with a total stranger and it feels comfortable.
He exhaled, grinning as always.
“Is smirking a rule to you?”
He chuckled, taking his briefcase. “I hope you are now aware of why I was interested in knowing you.”
“It wasn’t necessary to follow me anyway, if you knew I was going to be in your class.”
He chuckled. “Anyway, I couldn’t tell you were in the wrong class.”
Whoa! Earth was just snatched away from my feet. “What did you just say?”
“You were supposed to go to the beginner’s class. Let’s say this time around, you are the one who followed me.” This was the most embarrassing moment in my life. And nobody told me I was in the wrong place.
“Then what is this class?”
“Intermediate Class. As you heard, everyone here is a writer. A registered Author.”
The look of embarrassment was clear on my face, I assume.
“Follow me.” He commanded. Taking a step forward
“Why do I feel like being ordered?” He stopped, turned to me.
He chuckled. “Don’t be ashamed of a simple mistake. I won’t force you to follow me anyway.” And with just that, he walked away.
Damn! The first day is a miserable already. I followed him anyway.
We passed a few classes and reached this one. We stopped by the window, where we could clearly see at least half of the hall and the teacher. The hall was full of people. Both men and women.
“They are beginners. Today is their first day.”
My jaw almost dropped to the ground. Too many people. They are just equal to my community class times three.
“Wow!”
“Guentemalla University of Literature is the scariest university in the country. Their Lecturers have no fun. Among all these people, only five to ten are the ones who will get to my class.”
“Why is that? Why are they dropping?”
“Literature needs commitment. Love itself is not enough. Sacrifice is crucial in this field.” That’s confusing. I once thought literature was one of the simplest fields in the world.
“Many fail because they think literature just needs passion,” he added.
“That’s what I thought too.”
He turned to me. The grin that was always there was no longer there. “Seeing this whole class, full of young men and women, aren’t you asking yourself why I was interested in you?”
That thought came late. I was still shocked at what he just told me about literature.
“Can I know?”
He started taking steps away from the class. Heading outside the building. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your own work. Hand over any kind of writing that you have to keep being in my class. It’s three weeks courses but they are serious weeks you have ever seen.”
Trying to catch up with him, I had to walk a little faster. “I thought I told you all I did was read.”
“Good. Then, you’ll have to catch up with other beginners. And climbed all the stairs to get to my class.” By that we were already outside the building. I stood still at the entrance, watching him disappearing into the parking lot.
It is true I should be a beginner. I walked back to the class he showed me earlier. Tip toeing from the back entrance to get to the class.
“You?” The lecturer called and everyone turned to me. I stood still grimacing. “Who are you?”
“Evelyn Mosa.”
“You are late?”
“I am sorry.”
“Failure to get into the class on time is a sign of failure in this class. How will you get to properly answer what I have already taught?”
Well, she must be the creepiest Lecturer I usually met in my other classes.
“I got lost in the other class.”
“How will you manage to not get lost in writing?”
Huh! She is making things tougher than they are. I am already embarrassed in the intermediate class, and here I am, like a fool in front of not less than a hundred people.
“ Down.” She commanded, and I took the nearest vacant seat.
“Well, by saying that, I finalize today’s Introduction. Let us all meet here tomorrow if God wishes.”
By just that, the class was over. People standing up, going away. I wished to burry my head somewhere and wake up a few years later.
- Writer
