First and Best But Why Are We Still Cooking Like It Is 1985?

 

Olumurewa Damilola

The University of Ibadan, as we all know, is the first and the best university in Nigeria. Statistics even support this claim. The school is known for its strong academic research and its production of excellent-minded students. Apparently, however, it is not only a home of excellence and prestige, but also a home to kerosene fumes—fumes that drift through corridors as though searching for someone to suffocate.

Hmmn…kerosene. Kerosene. Kerosene.

The green–yellowish liquid we constantly check and measure after every cooking adventure has somehow become precious almost like gold. After all, no one survives hunger. Or can we? Also, this yellowish liquid comes with a partner: the stove, our lovely green stove whose features we have come to “adore”. 

 Let's not begin with its wick we constantly adjust when it refuses to cooperate, or the stove head that faithfully paints our once-white pots black. And then there is the smoke: thick, stubborn, and ever-present. It has grown on us, hasn’t it? How wouldn't it after sessions of using the beloved stoves? Even our walls agree, as they are now decorated with a permanent shade of black. What a way to spice things up! 

The irony of it all is that kerosene is meant to be affordable. It was meant to make life easier until it didn't. It was meant to save us from “burning ourselves down” and accidents. It was meant to protect us from the dangers of hot plates and gas. Yet now,  it burns down our pocket money and allowances. 

However, this is the story of our lives. We suffer for tradition and still pay a premium for it. We are caught between what is meant to protect us and what is actually best for us.  

Perhaps, we are not all in this dilemma, because apparently, fire behaves differently depending on your rent. You might want to ask yourself; why are private hostels allowed to use gas while public hostels are denied that convenience.  Are public hostel residents the problem? Or does gas comfort simply belong to those who can afford it? Is this not, in itself, a quiet form of inequality?

Some might argue that the larger  population in public hostels makes fire outbreaks harder to manage if they ever occur. Well, that’s valid to some extent. But can the start of a fire truly be controlled by such distinctions? After all, anyone, anywhere, could cause one. Or does fire now choose its victims? This leads to another question: How is intelligence measured?

If students can be trusted enough to read, memorise, sit for exams, why can't we be trusted to use  gas? 

Do we not know how to use gas cookers? And even if some do not, can they not learn just as they manage to learn the semester’s entire courses in the week before exams? 

Are we not the first and the best? Should we not then be capable of basic responsibility? 

We are intelligent enough to pass exams, but not intelligent enough to turn off a gas knob. “First and best” students should be trusted to act responsibly. After all, if we  can manage lectures, assignments, and exams, remembering to turn off a gas cooker shouldn't be beyond us. This brings us back to a simple question: what does “best” really mean? If a school claims excellence, should that not extend to student welfare?

Student welfare is not only academic; it is  physical, emotional and mental and they should be catered for.  Imagine the physical stress of cooking with a stove. The constant wick adjustment, the endless  scrubbing of blackened pots, the hours wasted waiting for food to properly cook. Let's not get started on the health risks. The dangerous fumes from the stove could suffocate. Sometimes, they linger long after cooking, causing discomfort and irritation. The list goes on and on in all its inconveniences. They are endless. 

So, we must ask: does “first and best” refer only to results on paper, and not to the conditions in which students live? Just think about it.