My Roommate Sold My Textbooks To Fund His Japa, And I'm The One Who Feels Guilty

Three weeks ago I came back from morning lecture and my shelf was lighter. Economics of Development, Statistics for Economists, the two I borrowed from the library and renewed twice. Gone. I stood there doing the math in my head like a fool, because who steals textbooks in 300L, we are not animals.

It was Chidi. Same Chidi I share garri with, same Chidi whose mother sends him 15k every month and he still owes me 4,200 from August. He didn't even deny it. He said "Emeka I'm sorry, my IELTS fee is 320k and the deadline is close." Like that explained anything. Like my books were the obstacle between him and Canada. I shouted. He cried. We didn't talk for four days, just two grown men avoiding each other's eyes in a small room, eating separately, sleeping facing the wall.

I wanted to report him. I even drafted the message to the hostel porter. Then I remembered my own father's shop burning and how I hawked pure water in secrecy because pride no dey pay fees. Chidi is not a thief. Chidi is desperate, and desperation makes all of us do things we can't defend. I told him to pay me back small small. He's paying. 500 here, 800 there. We still share garri. But something shifted between us that I can't name yet.