The Dead Rat in Dorm 3 - by Emmanuel Daniji

From The University of TwoCents Series --- <blockquote>Sometimes life’s deepest lessons don’t come from books — they come from brooms, bunk beds, and even a dead rat in the hostel.</blockquote> --- It was a cold Harmattan evening at the Boys’ Hostel of the Secondary School of TwoCents. The air smelled of dust, roasted groundnuts, and adolescent mischief. The usual chatter about who stole whose Milo had died down, and most boys were already snoring under thin hostel blankets. Everyone, except me — Emmanuel. I was sitting up on my bunk, reading by torchlight, when I heard it.Skr! Skr! Skr! That unmistakable sound of a rat. I sighed. “Ah, which kain wahala be this one again?” My bonkmate, John Oyinloye, turned lazily in his bed.“Emmanuel, abeg no start today o. Maybe na wind.” “Wind wey dey chew nylon?” I asked, raising my brow. Before he could reply, the rat dashed across the floor — a fat, overconfident intruder with whiskers like ambition. John screamed, “Jesu! E pass like rabbit!” and jumped from his bed like he’d just seen an ancestral ghost. I laughed. “Oyinloye, calm down joor. This one don enter wrong hostel. Na my room e choose? The same me wey be Chief Rat Exterminator of TwoCents Secondary School?” He eyed me. “If you like, catch am. I no dey sleep till you do.” So I did what any experienced hostel hero would do — I brought out my secret weapon: the ancient rat trap of Dorm 3, a relic passed down by generations of senior boys. But I remembered something I’d once heard: Before you catch a rat, you must first win its trust. So I broke up some leftover cabin biscuit — “free bait.” I dropped the crumbs near the trap and whispered, “Eat in peace tonight, my friend. Tomorrow, we go settle this matter.” We laughed, turned off our torchlights, and dozed off to the sound of snores and hope. ---<img src="/media/inline_insight_image/IMG-20251014-WA0008.jpg"/> By morning, John’s shout woke me. “Emmanuel! Come see! The rat don kpai!” I jumped down from the bunk, still half-asleep. There it was — lying stiff beside the trap. But what caught my attention wasn’t its death… it was what it left behind. In one quiet corner of the floor, the rat had carefully gathered every piece of “free bait” it found during the night. It hadn’t eaten them. It was saving them. Saving them for later. But later never came. John looked at me, then at the crumbs. “Hmm… that rat wan plan its future. Now e don plan itself enter heaven.” We laughed, but something in that scene froze me. That rat was all of us.Always saving joy for tomorrow.Always waiting to rest later.Always saying “one day” before we breathe, love, or live. That morning, our House Master — Mr. Cyrus Majebi — walked in for inspection. He noticed the trap, the rat, and our silent faces. “What happened here?” he asked. I told him the story. He nodded thoughtfully and said,“Boys, that rat just taught you what some adults still haven’t learned — if you keep saving all your happiness for later, you may never get to spend it.” We stood quietly, soaking in the weight of it. That day, I didn’t rush through breakfast. I laughed with my hostel mates, wrote a letter home to my mum, and even shared my last biscuit with John. Because who knows? Maybe the bait we’re saving for tomorrow is the joy we should be tasting today. <h4>--- 💭 TwoCents Takeaway:</h4>Don’t store your laughter for later. Don’t postpone kindness. Don’t delay love.Because later may never come — but now is already here. --- <blockquote>🎓 The University of TwoCents — Where life’s simplest moments become our greatest lessons.</blockquote>

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