Chapter 04

Chapter 04

Hall Week Heat

Hall Week arrived like an invasion.

Posters appeared overnight—bright colours, bold fonts, promises of pool parties, car washes, themed nights, and “unforgettable memories.” Music blasted from every corner of campus, and lectures became optional suggestions rather than obligations. Even the serious students loosened their ties. For Kofi, it felt like the university exhaling all at once.

By Friday afternoon, the hall grounds were unrecognizable.

Tents were up. Speakers stacked. A DJ tested bass levels that shook windows. Rows of cars—some modest, others offensively expensive—lined the road for the Hall Week Car Wash Parade. Girls in shorts and crop tops laughed, splashing soapy water over hoods that cost more than most people’s houses.

Kofi stood with Anita near the edge, watching.

“This place wasn’t like this last week,” he said.

Anita smirked. “Give students freedom and money. This is the result.”

Near the pool area, a group of first-year girls gathered, louder than everyone else. One of them stood out—not because she was prettier, but because she acted like she didn’t belong.

Her accent was polished. Her clothes screamed imported. Her irritation was constant.

“This school dey bore me,” she complained loudly, sipping something neon-coloured. “Ghana sef dey bore. I should be in Oxford or somewhere civilized.”

Her friends laughed nervously.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m only stuck here because my mum is still angry. Imagine—one small awkward situation in France and now I’m grounded back home.”

“What happened?” someone asked.

She waved it off. “It’s not my fault people don’t understand art, culture, and freedom. Anyway, once my mum cools down, I’m gone.”

Kofi overheard the conversation as he passed and shook his head.

Anita noticed. “That one?” she said. “She’ll survive. Or she won’t. Campus doesn’t care.”

As evening approached, the pool party kicked off.

Music turned louder. Shirts disappeared. Drinks flowed freely. Bottles passed hands too easily. Someone pushed a cup toward Kofi.

“Relax small,” the guy said. “It’s Hall Week.”

Kofi hesitated.

He thought of the N1 crash on the news. His father. His brother watching him from home.

“I’m good,” he said, handing the cup back.

The guy laughed. “You’re too serious, chale.”

Anita caught his eye from across the pool and raised her eyebrow, as if asking if he was okay. He nodded.

Nearby, pressure mounted. Pills changed hands discreetly. Promises were made—faster money, better connections, shortcuts through life.

“This school is about who you know,” someone whispered. “Not books.”

Kofi stepped away.

Later, the car wash parade peaked.

Engines revved rhythmically as foam ran down windshields. Students cheered. Phones flashed. For a moment, it felt harmless—almost beautiful.

But Kofi noticed things others ignored: shaky hands behind the wheel, eyes too glassy, confidence too loud.

Speed without control.

As the night cooled and the music softened into background noise, Kofi sat on a low wall with Anita, feet dangling.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just… watching.”

She nodded. “That’s good. People forget to watch themselves here.”

From across the hall grounds, laughter erupted again, careless and free.

Kofi knew something now.

UPSA wasn’t just a place to chase dreams—it was a place where dreams could drown.

And Hall Week was only the beginning.