Nsukka Cyon Connect

*A DAY WITH OUR MATRICULATING ALTAR BOYS AND GIRLS* [ CYONITES]

We left our abode, Isiakpu this afternoon with a simple intention—to show love to our young and zealous parishioners who had just been admitted into University of Nigeria, Nsukka. It was the day of their matriculation, a milestone that deserved to be witnessed, celebrated, and blessed. Though the journey demanded sacrifice, we knew in our hearts that presence often speaks louder than words.

The road to UNN welcomed us with a test of patience. Traffic stood stubborn and unmoving, stretching endlessly like a quiet challenge. For about forty-eight minutes we crawled through the congestion while the sun blazed fiercely above us, pouring down its relentless heat. Yet, inside the faithful Mazda that carried us, there was comfort and laughter.

The vehicle became our little sanctuary on wheels, shielding us from the harshness of the afternoon sun and reminding us that even difficult journeys can be pleasant when shared in good company.

At last, the campus appeared before us like a beautiful painting unfolding slowly. The lush greenery that surrounds the ancient hills of Nsukka gave the university an almost poetic charm. Tall trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves whispering softly as though welcoming visitors. The air felt vibrant with youthful energy, the kind that only a university campus can possess—alive with dreams, hopes, and endless possibilities.

When we arrived at the venue, the sight was simply breathtaking. Rows of colorful canopies stretched across the open space like a festive village. Stands were beautifully decorated with ribbons and bright flowers that danced lightly in the wind. Cars were lined neatly everywhere—some boldly parked in the open sun, others hiding shyly under the shade of generous trees. The atmosphere pulsed with celebration.

Electronic loud speakers roared with music that echoed across the grounds. A lively band beat their drums with contagious rhythm while DJs layered vibrant beats that made the air itself seem to dance. MCs moved energetically through the crowd, their voices booming through microphones as they welcomed guests and announced names with enthusiasm. It was joy in motion.

We stood in front of St. Peter's Chaplaincy, University of Nigeria Nsukka, a place made easy to locate because of the striking sculpture of Saint Peter holding the symbolic key. Dressed in our cassocks, we were impossible to miss among the colorful crowd. People recognized us instantly.

“Good afternoon, Fathers!”

“Good afternoon, Fathers!”

The greetings came from every direction, warm and respectful, carried by smiling faces. Soon enough, our boys and girls began arriving, walking toward us with excitement shining brightly in their eyes.

One after another, they approached with wide smiles and youthful pride written across their faces. Their expressions reflected a mixture of relief, joy, and the quiet triumph of having crossed an important threshold in life. Their matriculation gowns flowed in the breeze as they gathered around us, each face glowing with hope for the future.

The camera soon became our constant companion. Pictures followed pictures—single poses, joyful duos, dramatic gestures, and then the inevitable group photos filled with laughter. Some stood proudly; others struck playful poses. Every click of the camera captured not just faces, but memories that would last far beyond that afternoon.

After the photos came the stories. One by one they spoke—about the ceremony, the excitement of seeing the university for the first time as official students, the long queues, the cheers, and the sense of belonging they now felt. We listened attentively, smiling with them, sharing in their joy, and celebrating this new chapter of their lives.

The natural beauty of Nsukka seemed to complement their happiness. Behind them stretched the serene campus landscape—green lawns, towering trees, gentle hills, and pathways alive with students moving in every direction. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, painting soft patterns on the ground and illuminating the bright faces of these young scholars whose dreams had just begun to unfold.

Then came a surprise.

Our young parishioners had thoughtfully prepared food for us—plates of well-garnished rice, neatly arranged, accompanied by chilled bottles of beer and refreshing malt drinks. Their generosity was touching. Though we initially declined, they insisted with affectionate persistence.

“Fathers, please stay and eat with us,” they pleaded.

Their desire was simple: to prolong the conversation, to keep the moment alive just a little longer.

But duty called us back. Another event awaited in the parish, and we needed to leave before traffic tightened its grip again on the roads. Understanding our situation, they kindly packaged some of the food and beverages for us to take along.

Before leaving, we gathered them close and offered a few words from the heart.

We reminded them to be good students—to make their parents proud, to remain disciplined, and to stay away from destructive influences. We spoke gently but firmly about avoiding bad gangs and the deceptive lure of “Yahoo,” urging them to guard their integrity and walk in honesty.

Then, quietly and almost playfully, we slipped small envelopes into their hands. Their faces lit up with curiosity and delight.

“It is for chocolate,” we said with a smile.

Laughter burst out among us. Their joyful giggles filled the air like bells ringing in celebration.

Finally it was time to leave.

They escorted us to the car, waving enthusiastically as we settled in. Even as the vehicle began to move, they continued waving—hands raised high, smiles wide—until distance slowly dissolved their figures from our sight.

It was our own small way of showing appreciation to our altar boys and girls, the devoted members of Catholic Youth Organization of Nigeria in our parish. These were young people who serve faithfully at the altar day after day, offering their time, energy, and devotion with quiet dedication. They deserved to know that their sacrifices are seen, valued, and cherished.

As we drove home through the fading light of the day, the mood remained lighthearted. I even took a few cheerful selfies with Fr. Uche, capturing yet another small memory from a day already rich with them.

And somewhere between the laughter, the quiet roads, and the golden glow of evening, a simple truth settled gently in the heart:

Life is truly sweet when it is lived simply—when love is shown freely, when journeys are shared, and when joy is found in the happiness of others.

Fr. James Onyekachi Ogbuigbo
Isiakpu, Nsukka.

Love, Lies, and Lecture Halls: The Quiet Cohabitation Culture in UNN

There is a new “department” at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. It does not appear on the official prospectus. It offers no certificates. Yet, its enrollment grows every semester.
It is the department of cohabitation.

Walk past the student lodges in Odim, Hilltop, or behind the university gates at dusk, and you will see what I mean. Two toothbrushes in one cup. A male pair of slippers beside a female’s sandals. Shared pots, shared beds, shared secrets. What was once whispered about has now become almost ordinary — a quiet arrangement between undergraduates trying to navigate youth, freedom, and survival.
But beneath the romance lies a complex story.

Between Love and Logistics

Many will argue that cohabitation is simply about love. Two young people meet in a lecture hall, exchange notes, and before long, exchange keys. They say it is companionship. They say it is cheaper. They say it is safer than sneaking around.
And in some ways, they are not wrong.
Nsukka is not an easy town for students. Rent rises like harmattan dust. Feeding is expensive. Transport drains pockets. For some, sharing a room is not just emotional — it is economic. One rent. One electricity bill. One gas cylinder. Survival becomes a joint project.
Yet, when did survival start wearing the mask of romance?

Freedom Without Foresight

University life offers a dangerous gift: freedom without supervision. For many students, it is the first taste of independence. No parents. No curfews. No watchful neighbors reporting back home.
Freedom, however, is only beautiful when paired with maturity.

In the quiet intimacy of cohabitation, roles begin to form. The girl cooks. The boy “provides.” Jealousy creeps in. Academic focus shifts. Assignments compete with affection. The line between partnership and dependency blurs.
And when the relationship fractures — as many young relationships do — the emotional debris lingers longer than the semester.
Who moves out?
Who pays the remaining rent?
Who bears the hidden consequences?

The Academic Cost

A university is designed to build minds, not marriages.
The core business of the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, is scholarship — ideas, research, growth. Yet cohabitation often rearranges priorities. Morning lectures are skipped for late-night arguments. Group reading becomes Netflix marathons. Ambition quietly negotiates with attachment.
It is not that love is the enemy of learning. Far from it. Love can inspire greatness. But premature domesticity can suffocate purpose.
An undergraduate degree is a fragile foundation. It requires attention, discipline, and sometimes loneliness. When two unfinished people try to build a home before building themselves, the structure often tilts.

The Social Illusion

There is also the matter of perception. Cohabitation has become normalized in subtle ways. “Everybody is doing it,” they say. But is everybody truly flourishing?
Social media glamorizes couple life — matching outfits, curated birthday surprises, filtered affection. What it rarely shows are the silent tears after betrayal, the anxiety of unexpected pregnancy, or the academic probation letters quietly slipped under doors.
The illusion of adulthood does not equal readiness for it.

A Question of Identity

Perhaps the deeper issue is this: What kind of graduates do we want UNN to produce?
Young men and women who discovered their purpose?
Or young adults prematurely entangled in responsibilities they barely understand?
Cohabitation may feel modern, progressive, even inevitable. But progress is not simply doing what is common; it is doing what is wise.
There is dignity in restraint. There is strength in waiting. There is power in focusing on one’s own becoming before merging destinies with another.

My Position

I do not write from a pedestal of judgment. I write from concern.
Cohabitation among undergraduates at UNN may offer temporary comfort, but it often demands long-term costs — emotional, academic, and sometimes spiritual. University is a season. It is not the final destination. Why mortgage the future for companionship that may not survive graduation?
Love should not be an escape from loneliness or poverty. It should be a meeting of two whole individuals, not two students seeking shelter from adulthood.

Let the halls of UNN echo with ambition more than whispered quarrels.
Let lecture rooms compete successfully with living rooms.
Let degrees come before domestic experiments.
After all, the green and white of the university crest symbolizes growth and excellence — not shared rent agreements.
And perhaps, just perhaps, the greatest romance a student can cultivate in Nsukka is with purpose itself.

Rev Fr Teclus Ike Ugwueze