University students during graduation . [File, Standard]
There was a time when being admitted to university was not merely an academic achievement; it was a declaration of adulthood. The young man or woman packed a suitcase, received a final sermon from the village elders, and disappeared into the mysterious world beyond the horizon. Parents knew neither the university timetable nor the lecturer’s telephone number. Some did not even know exactly where the lecture hall was. Yet somehow, the student arrived, registered, found accommodation, attended lectures, and survived.
Village wisdom, where truth walks barefoot, remembers those days with both nostalgia and bewilderment.
There were no smartphones, GPS locators, WhatsApp groups or Google Maps. If you missed the bus, you asked a stranger. If you got lost, you asked another stranger. If you failed an examination, you walked home with the shame. Nobody called the Dean to ask whether their son had attended class.
Today, however, the university gate has become a fascinating border crossing between childhood and adulthood, except that the adults are increasingly the parents.
The modern university entrant arrives accompanied by a convoy.
Mother carries documents. Father carries money. Auntie carries snacks. Uncle carries advice. Somebody carries bedding. Another relative carries the family WhatsApp group in the phone. The student carries what exactly? Sometimes only a backpack and an expression suggesting that university has been imposed upon them by hostile forces.
At registration, parents queue.