‘Do your worse. If it is to kill me today, kuku just kill me!" My landlady's shriek tore through my sleep, the first decent rest I'd gotten all week.

Combining remote work, academics, politics and still trying to chase the elusive first-class degree wasn't as easy as I had imagined it would be. Sure, I knew my plate was going to be full when I decided to run for the post of the President of the students’ association of my department, but "how hard could it be?", I'd reasoned. 

‘’People do it all the time, and it would really help add to my CV.’’

I didn’t consider the sleepless nights, and now, just weeks before exams, with events and collaborations piling up, all I wanted was a good night's rest. Of all the days for another one of the landlord and landlady's brawls...

It's not like they were a rare occurrence, but with Daddy Tolu out of town, I thought I'd escaped witnessing the drama from the front-row seat this weekend. Maybe witnessing is not the right word, you can't exactly witness something through a wall. Daddy Tolu must have come in late last night and decided his regular dose of abuse was overdue.

‘’Just kill me!" Mummy Tolu’s voice scraped against the thin walls, each word a nail being hammered into wall. "It's the rent money or my life. My kids haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon, and you're playing games with their well-being? This is Tolu’s room we are giving out, remember? We agreed to split the rent!"

Daddy Tolu’s response was low and devoid of any concern. "I said I'll give it to you, woman. Now stop shouting before I lose my temper."

The fight felt like a daily dose of reality, a reminder of the struggles people endure just a few walls away. 

Finding an affordable apartment close to campus was a nightmare, and dorm life held no appeal…no privacy and everyone in my business? No, thank you.

But this constant tension, it was wearing me thin. ‘’Next time, I’ll pick a house the owners don’t live in’’, I decided.

With a sigh,I got up from my bed, stretched and said a short prayer. I then reached for the AirPods I always keep beside my bed, the familiar white buds a temporary barrier against the chaos outside. I walked to my little table and scanned my study schedule, a jolt of anxiety shooting through me. Two assignments due tomorrow? How had I let things slip so far behind? The guilt gnawed at me, but right now, all I could do was plug in, tune out, and try to salvage the wreckage of my academic year.

Hours ticked by, but I only managed to finish one assignment. ‘’What’s with these lecturers and assignments?’’, I wondered. ‘’Is it that they are all too lazy to set test questions or what? Is a degree truly worth all this wahala?’’

Rising, I grabbed my bucket and shuffled out of the room, heading towards the bathroom I shared with two of my housemates. Thankfully, they were gone, enjoying a weekend with their parents in peace. However, I made a mental note to brief them on the latest landlord drama upon their return.

Lost in thought, I thought of how I would arrange the remaining things I had to into the little time I had left before my evening meeting with the other executives. Perhaps cooking should be first on the agenda. I’m really hungry.

Leaving the bathroom, I entered into my room and threw on my usual home attire – a paint splattered t-shirt from my IT days, and a pair of shorts borrowed (stolen?) from my brother a few years ago. Pot and rice in hand, I ventured into the kitchen, ready to tick cooking off my mental to-do list. Just as I switch on my gas, the door creaked open, and my landlady stood in the doorway, her presence casting a long shadow across the room.

A silent prayer slipped through my lips: "Lord, please let this be short, I have a lot to do." 

My landlady, notorious for holding court at the most inconvenient times, stood with one of her hands hanging on her hip.

"Ah, Adeola, good morning! How are you doing today?" she said, a wide smile plastered on her face. My thoughts remained unspoken as I politely responded, "I'm fine ma, how are you doing ma?"

The faint remnants of the early morning's argument seemed to have vanished. Was she genuinely better, or had she perfected the art of masking her anger with practiced cheer?

"Doing alright, Adeola," she replied, a hint of strain peeking through. "At least, as alright as one can be in these times."

"Right," I mumbled, hoping to move the conversation along. I'd finished rinsing the rice at this point and I yearned to escape back to get started on my second assignment.

"Anyway," she continued, seemingly oblivious to my silent pleas, "we need to buy fuel to pump the water. You know NEPA hasn’t brought light for a while, so..." she trailed off, leaving the unspoken implication hanging in the air. "Everyone has to contribute, please inform the others when they return."

"Okay, ma," I sighed, accepting the inevitable.

Just when I thought the coast was clear, she spoke again. "I would have used my own money," she added, "you sef you know, but things are tight right now. Business isn't good, and you know Daddy Tolu..." She let out a dramatic sigh, her smile fading.

I knew it. She wasn't finished. This always happened, a normal conversation transforming into a personal narrative.

And she launched into her familiar story, the one about her marriage, how she had mistaken attention for love, and ended up in a loveless marriage. Each time I heard it, I couldn't help but empathize with the younger version of her, a vulnerable woman in her early thirties searching for connection. Maybe Tolu’s father had seemed like a glimmer of hope.

With a final, "Please don’t forget to remind the others to contribute for the water," she concluded her monologue. I took the opportunity and made a hasty retreat back to my room.

Setting a phone alarm for the rice boiling on the gas, I returned to my assignment. Yet, as I try to make sense of my assignment questions, my mind kept drifting back to my "conversation" with Mummy Tolu. It was hard to fault her in any way. Perhaps, she had truly believed it was love they shared, only to have her world turn upside down when she found out about her husband’s true nature.

"Be careful who you love," a voice echoed in my head.

A soft sigh escaped my lips. Despite the frustration of another disrupted moment, a little bit of empathy lingered. In the end, weren't we all, in some way, yearning for connection. I mean really…

At the end of the day, we all want love.