A hilarious university experience has left many laughing after Bukky shared how she discovered the real purpose of the “shaving stick” in the girls’ hostel. Her first attempt at shaving turned into a painful lesson on hair growth direction — and the unforgettable truth that even hair has t
raffic rules. When I entered the university, I noticed one strange thing in the girls’ hostel.
Every girl had a shaving stick.
Not one. Not two. EVERYBODY.
Now, the only human being I knew in my life that used shaving stick was my father.
And as far as I was concerned, men use it to shave their bie bie ( beards).
So I was confused.
I told myself, “Bukky, face your book. This is not your ministry.”
I decided to gboju nbe ( look away) After all, e no concern me.
Few months later, I was dressing one evening when one of my useless roommates — that girl that came to university to study other people’s life — saw me.
She screamed like she saw a ghost.
“BUKKYYY!! You wan plait this evil forest??” she shouted, pointing directly at my Angelina.
I almost fainted.
Before I could recover, she added:
“So you no dey shave?? Abi your guy like make something dey hold him like Velcro??”
I wanted the ground to open and swallow me.
But that was the day I knew.
So THIS is what the shaving stick is for.
The next morning, I bought my own shaving stick.
I locked the bathroom door.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
I said, “Angelina, today is your freedom day.”
My hand was shaking like say I wan defuse bomb.
But I did it.
I shaved.
I finished.
I came out.
I was proud.
I was free.
I was reborn.
Five minutes later…
The itching started,
Not small itching,
Not normal itching,
WUCKED itching.
I froze.
“Ayilalaa ooo!!”
I looked at the shaving stick.
“Abi Aboki don use this thing before??”
Another thought entered my head.
“Hope say no be stafilokokos??😳😳
Hope say I never contact incurable disease because of peer pressure??”
I stood up.
Sat down.
Stood up again.
Angelina was on fire.
As I was going for lecture, I was scratching on the road like person wey dey pursue invisible goat.
I would scratch small.
Walk small.
Scratch small.
Walk small.
If you see me that day, you go think say I dey rehearse cultural dance.
In the lecture hall, the thing became worse.
I couldn’t concentrate.
The lecturer was saying:
“Photosynthesis is the process whereby—”
Me, I was whispering:
“Jesus is Lord… Jesus is Lord…”
I crossed my legs.
People thought I was forming posh.
Na lie.
I was using one leg to press Angelina so she can behave.
Thank God our desk was covered.
I quietly inserted my hand under.
And began emergency operation.
Scratch.
Pause.
Look up.
Pretend to write note.
Scratch again.
Tears were in my eyes.
At one point, I saw my life flash before me.
When I got back to the hostel, I confronted my roommate.
“Why my Angelina dey scratch me like that now? How una take dey cope??”
She looked at me and shouted:
“HA!!! You barb upward???”
I said, “Yes na, e get formula?.”
She held her head.
“Jesus Christ, Bukky! You barb against the direction of hair growth! Na why!”
That was the day I learnt that even hair has traffic rules.ðŸ˜ðŸ˜ðŸ˜ðŸ˜
Written by Okih Bukola