I picked out the name Prof. Tsoro for him because he appeared to be a fearful and superstitious fellow, despite his academic prowess. Tsoro means Fear in the Hausa language.

Though I never met with him again, I must say that that singular session was a very short and funny session.

At the university, the venue of study was as important to me as the subject of concern.

On a clear, cool day it had to be outside the faculty, with the trees for shade.

So I had settled down to read, when I noticed this Prof. walk past. So I thought "Oh-kayy..." Actually I thought nothing… After a few minutes, he trotted back and I raised a brow but I kept on 'pretending' to study.

After about 10 minutes, he walked past again. Haba! It couldn't be a coincidence so I braced up.

As he strutted along, I zoomed in with my supersonic eyes, looking for features to identify his origin.

After a few more minutes he walked past and I cited it! Tribal marks… of definite southwest origin. "Ehn Ehn," I thought, "he's one of my people."  I smiled. Very superstitious. No wahala.

Before I could blink twice, he was standing in front of me and had flipped my book, saying, “ah Yorùbá ni e, mofe fe ee, you know.“ (ah, you are Yorùbá, I want to befriend you, you know).

I looked up, with my Michael Jackson thriller look, and answered “excuse me sah, ebo ni mi o“ (excuse me, sir, I am a sacrifice).

He quickly responded “Ah, Deacon ni mi" ( I am a deacon )!

Nobody asked and he is already confessing like a witch, LOL.

He later apologized, and told me to 'go on with my studying.'

I had a good laugh, and after that, I just could not 'go on with my studying.'

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