Nostalgia should be appreciated.

 The Day We Took T’s Ram to the Fight

 Hey dorks, it"s another session and we"re b
ack again. or rather I am back again with my memories,whimsical romance sections and hilarious memes. 

It's funny how the memories of our teenage escapades linger, as if wrapped in a soft layer of nostalgia. Back in secondary school, life in our suburban corner of Lagos was a whirlwind of laughter, mischief, and the occasional absurdity—like the time we decided to take T’s dad’s Ileya ram to a ramfighting competition. Spoiler alert: it didn’t go as planned, but oh, what a story it turned out to be!

It was one of those typical afternoons when the sun hung lazily in the sky, casting long shadows on our street. My friend E and I had just wrapped up another day of school, our brains swimming in equations and essays that felt worlds away from the chaos that awaited us outside those gates. E's house was my second home, a place where we’d kick back, share jokes, and strategize our next big adventure—though we had no idea this one would change everything.

That day, T, his neighbor, burst out of his yard, dragging his father’s prized ram behind him. “I’m taking him to the ramfight!” he shouted, eyes sparkling with excitement. I could almost see the gears turning in E’s mind as he turned to me, a grin spreading across his face. “We should go!” 

At first, I hesitated. What do I know about ramfighting? But E’s enthusiasm was infectious, and after a bit of convincing (and maybe a promise of some serious fun), I found myself following them down the street, heart racing with the thrill of the unknown.

The ramfight was held in a dusty field, buzzing with energy. People gathered in clusters, their voices a blend of cheers and jeers. I could hardly believe we were there, watching as T's ram, a sturdy fellow with a surprisingly fierce glare, entered the makeshift arena. The first match began, and with every strike and counter, my heart leaped. Against all odds, the ram emerged victorious, and the crowd erupted into wild cheers. For a moment, I felt like a champion, our three man crew basking in the glory of an unexpected win.

But pride, as they say, comes before a fall. The second match was a different story. The opposing ram was relentless, and right from the beginning, it took a heavy hit that left us all gasping. E and I rushed to T’s side as the ram stumbled, panting heavily. We could feel the tension in the air as we tried to support our champion, but deep down, we all sensed something was wrong.

That evening, we helped T get the ram home. It was a somber walk back, the weight of our earlier excitement now replaced with a heavy gloom. The next morning, the inevitable news broke: the ram had died overnight. Our spirits plummeted as we faced the reality of our impulsive adventure.

 One moment we were champions, and the next, we were just a bunch of clueless teenagers dealing with the aftermath of our reckless joy. T"s dad came to school with an extremely somber T, we got our fair share of punishment but I leave it to you to determine if it was worth it.

In hindsight, it was a wild ride that taught us lessons beyond the classroom. We laughed, maybe shed a few tears ( i think it was the air that day, too much pollen), and through  that short spontaneous burst of "fun",
we learned about responsibility, friendship, and the unpredictability of life. 

So, here’s to the adventures that shape us, no matter how absurd they may seem in retrospect. Life’s too short to play it safe, after all. And as for T’s ram? It lives on in our memories, a testament to our teenage folly and the crazy moments that bind us.

Till the next adventure, my friends! 🌟