Hostel Movement: The Olympics of Chaos and Stress

From Eviction notices to chasing after workers, Temiloluwa shares a peek into what hostel movement for CMUL students looked like tis year.

You have until 2:30 tomorrow to vacate this room, or else we will call the Porters.

It’s 7 a.m., my typical Wednesday morning. I’m lying in bed, caught in the battle between staying awake or giving in to the allure of a few more precious minutes of sleep. Then came the knock—a firm, no-nonsense knock. Even before my roommate opened the door, I already knew what it meant: the new occupants had arrived, ready to evict us from 41B.

Hand akimbo, the girl at the door, went: So, when are you guys moving out? And just like that, the chaos began.

This is an account of how my every college student's hostel movement experience started.

Welcome to the Hunger Games: CMUL Hostel Edition

The first sign that this hostel movement was going to be chaotic was when we got a directive that students were no longer allowed to retain rooms. Apparently, this was a long-standing rule that was only remembered—or conveniently rediscovered after a protest we held earlier that month.

Then came the second sign of trouble: It took about as long as it would take to climb Mount Everest and back to print the hostel list. Keyword: print. As if the glacial pace of printing wasn’t bad enough, the real nightmare began once the list was finally out. Then, in some infinite wisdom, less than two weeks was allocated for hostel movement.

Surely, two weeks should be enough time to renovate and move your belongings into a new room or, for some, an entirely new block. All of this, of course, while juggling classes, incourses, and clinicals.

The hostel movement turned into a tangle of webs that we later started referring to as chains. You couldn’t move into your assigned room until the current occupants moved out. And, they couldn’t leave until the people in their new rooms cleared out. It was a domino effect of frustration. Imagine being tenth in a chain of people, all waiting for someone to clear out so the next person could move. It was like watching a bad relay race, except the baton was a pile of luggage, and no one was running.

Sadly, the chains were only a small part of the nightmare. The entire hostel was a madhouse. Hallways became obstacle courses, crowded with dismantled bunks, mattresses, boxes, and Ghana-must-go bags that seemed to multiply by the minute. It was almost impossible to move around without bumping into something—or someone.

Naturally, tempers began to flare, and everybody was on vex mode. The tension in the air was so thick that you'd need to cut through it with a chainsaw. It was almost hilarious watching people drop the usual fake politeness to let out their bottled-up frustrations. Like, what's the point of saying excuse me when you can just shout get out?

We practically watched the hostel turn into a verbal battleground, and it was hard not to wonder: was chaos always a part of the plan? Friends turned strangers; roommates practically became temporary adversaries. And Porters? Well, they just portered. I almost even witnessed a full-blown fight in OPH, but thankfully, they were quickly separated.

Men on Floor

This piece would not be complete without me mentioning the incessant calls of men on floor, especially in the girl's hostel. Every time the phrase echoed in the hallway, it was usually accompanied by shouts from different rooms. Either someone calls out “carpenter”, “electrician”, or “Baba Ibeji”. At some point, it started to sound like a call and response—unintentional, but oddly rhythmic.

The funny part is these guys NEVER show up when you need them. Getting their attention felt like a full-time job. You’d have to chase them down, call multiple times, and practically beg for even the simplest fixes. A carpenter came to my room to assess the problem; then, it took him another three days to actually start his work. When you finally get them to answer you, the prices they gave were simply out of this world. One would think the price list directive from the school was merely a suggestion.

To make matters worse, some students fell victim to substandard artisans. I remember a friend on Compssaverse jokingly advising people to just pour water in their rooms—it would supposedly be more effective than hiring Mr. Femi Monday to fumigate. Spoiler alert: it wasn't a joke. Heck, the fan in my room stopped working barely three days after the electrician 'fixed' it.

DIY Kings and Queens

One thing I learnt from this hostel movement is that CMUL students are very resilient. Sure, the frequent battles with rats, 33KV light issues, and bedbugs were already a big hint, but this experience took it to a whole new level. When the "men on floor" failed, these guys literally took Thanos' fine, I’ll do it myself to the next level.

The best part is that these guys were willing to help other students for less than the price that the artisans were calling. If this were an award show, these guys should be crowned the MVPs. In addition, the hostel movement brought out the creativity in everyone. Have you seen my editor-in-chief's room? Well, it's safe to say her creativity isn't limited to just words—her room looks like it came straight out of a Pinterest board.

Everywhere you looked, students were making the most of the situation. I even heard about students helping others move out faster so that they could move in sooner. It was inspiring to see how much could be accomplished when people worked together—or when they decided to take matters into their own hands.

By the end of it, the hostel movement wasn’t just about moving—it was about adapting, helping one another, and proving that CMUL students could handle anything thrown their way.

The school said last card, and COMPSSAites practically replied with check up.

Oyegoke Temiloluwa,

Staff Writer, APSoUL.

In The Lab

• Guess what? Aquasplurge (The 2025 Fresher’s Party) is happening this Friday—The perfect break from hostel stress, if you ask me. And, of course, APSoUL will be fully represented. The question is, will you?

• Do you have a story you’d like to tell? We want to listen! Send us an email at WorkWithApsoul@gmail.com to begin.