The Examination Conspiracy

Jesutofunmi Great Ayeni 

University of Lagos, Nigeria

The dimly lit hostel room was electric with anxious chatter. The night before the General Studies exam had descended like a dark cloud, casting a shadow of dread over the students. Adaora stood out, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the frenzy around her.

As she reviewed her notes, Nneoma approached, her voice laced with panic. “Adaora, have you finished reading?” Adaora smiled reassuringly. “Almost, Nneoma. Just going over the key points.”

But just as they were about to quiz each other, a loud knock on the door made them jump. “Security check!” a stern voice boomed. The friends exchanged worried glances. What if they got caught with their notes?

As they hastily hid their study materials, Adaora noticed a group of students from the floor above whispering excitedly near the staircase. She caught fragments of their conversation: “Question 15 will be about Chinua Achebe’s contribution to African literature…” and “The essay on Nigeria’s democratic transition will focus on the 1999 elections…”

Her heart racing, she turned to Nneoma. “Did you hear that? They’re discussing specific exam questions like they already know what’s coming.”

Despite the tension, they focused on their last-minute revisions. The night wore on, with Fela Kuti’s rhythms and the scent of fried plantains providing a familiar comfort. But Adaora couldn’t shake off what she’d overheard.

The next morning, they walked into the exam hall, their steps steady. But as they received their question papers, Adaora’s blood ran cold. Question 15 was exactly as she’d overheard: “Discuss Chinua Achebe’s contribution to African literature and its global impact.” The essay question was precisely about Nigeria’s 1999 democratic transition.

She glanced around the hall and noticed something disturbing. The same group of students she’d overheard the night before were writing confidently, barely pausing to think. While most students struggled with the questions, these particular students – Emeka, Kemi, and Biodun – seemed to know exactly what to write.

As they tackled the exam, Adaora’s suspicions grew stronger. When they walked out, she turned to Nneoma and whispered, “Did you notice anything strange?”

Nneoma’s eyes widened. “You think someone leaked the questions? Those students from upstairs finished way too quickly, and they looked so confident.”

Adaora nodded grimly. “The questions they were discussing last night were exactly what appeared on the exam. This can’t be a coincidence.”

As they walked out of the campus, the bright Lagos sunlight seemed to symbolize their determination to uncover the truth. But little did they know, their journey was just beginning…

—

CONTINUING THE INVESTIGATION

As they walked out of the campus, Adaora and Nneoma exchanged determined glances. They decided to start their investigation by questioning their classmates. Who had access to the exam questions? Who had been acting suspiciously?

Their first stop was the school café, where they met their friend, Chidi. “Hey, guys! How was the exam?” Chidi asked, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Adaora leaned in, her voice low. “We think someone leaked the questions. Have you noticed anything strange?”

Chidi’s expression turned serious. “Actually, yesterday I saw Dr. Okoro arguing with Emeka – you know, that guy who always brags about having connections. But here’s the strange part – after their heated conversation, I saw Emeka slip Dr. Okoro an envelope. It looked thick, like it contained money.”

Nneoma’s eyes widened. “Money? You think Emeka was paying Dr. Okoro for something?”

“That’s not all,” Chidi continued, lowering his voice further. “I heard from my roommate that Dr. Okoro has been running ‘special tutorial sessions’ for select students. He charges 50,000 naira per person, claiming he gives ‘insider tips’ for the exam. Emeka, Kemi, and Biodun were all part of that group.”

Adaora’s mind was racing. The pieces were falling into place. “So Dr. Okoro has been selling exam questions to students who can afford to pay. That’s why they knew exactly what to expect.”

Chidi hesitated before responding, “But be careful, guys. If he’s involved in this kind of corruption, we don’t know what he’s capable of. People say he has connections with some powerful families whose children attend his tutorials.”

As they walked away from the café, Adaora felt like they were being watched. She turned around, but there was no one suspicious in sight. “Let’s get out of here,” she whispered to Nneoma. “I don’t like this.”

As they quickened their pace, Adaora’s phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number: “You’re asking too many questions. Stop now, or face the consequences.”

Her heart sank. Someone was monitoring their investigation. And what would happen if they didn’t stop?

Adaora and Nneoma exchanged a determined glance. They were in this together, and they wouldn’t back down. The corruption had to be exposed – it wasn’t fair that some students could buy their way to success while others worked honestly.

But as they turned the corner, they were confronted with a shocking sight…

Dr. Okoro standing in front of them, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. Behind him stood Emeka, looking nervous but defiant.

“You shouldn’t have looked into this,” Dr. Okoro said, his voice dripping with menace. “Some things are better left alone.”

And then, everything went black.

THE CONFRONTATION

When Adaora came to, she found herself in a dimly lit room that smelled of dust and neglect. Her head throbbed, and Nneoma was beside her, still unconscious. Dr. Okoro stood over them, his usual composed demeanor replaced by cold calculation.

“You shouldn’t have meddled in things you don’t understand,” he sneered. “Do you know how many lecturers struggle to make ends meet on the pittance this university pays us? Do you know what it’s like to watch students from wealthy families flaunt their privileges while we can barely afford rent?”

Adaora’s mind raced as she tried to process his words. “So you decided to sell exam questions? That’s your solution to financial problems?”

Dr. Okoro’s laugh was bitter. “Those students were going to succeed anyway – their parents would ensure it through connections or private tutors. I simply… expedited the process. And made some money to support my family in the process.”

“But what about students like us?” Adaora challenged, helping Nneoma who was beginning to stir. “Students who study hard and deserve a fair chance?”

“Life isn’t fair,” he replied coldly. “Now, you’ll both keep quiet about what you think you know, or you’ll find yourselves facing academic probation for false accusations against a respected lecturer.”

Adaora noticed a small window high up on the wall, partially hidden by tattered curtains. It was their only hope for escape.

As Dr. Okoro turned to leave, confident in his threats, Adaora whispered to Nneoma, “Wake up, we need to get out of here.” Nneoma stirred, groggily opening her eyes.

With a surge of adrenaline, Adaora stood up, helping Nneoma to her feet. They rushed towards the door, but it was locked. Dr. Okoro’s laughter echoed from the other side.

“You think you can expose me? Who will believe two students over a respected lecturer with fifteen years of service?”

Adaora spotted a piece of broken furniture nearby. With a swift motion, she used it to break the lock. They burst out of the room, racing down the hallway of what appeared to be an abandoned building off-campus.

As they reached the window, Adaora helped Nneoma climb out. She followed closely behind, gasping as they hit the ground.

Breathless, they sprinted away from the building, not stopping until they were far away. Panting, Adaora turned to Nneoma.

“We need to report this to the authorities,” she said, determination etched on her face. “And we have evidence now – Chidi witnessed the money exchange, and we can prove the connection between the tutorial group and the leaked questions.”

Nneoma nodded in agreement. “We’ll expose Dr. Okoro’s corruption and clear our names. More importantly, we’ll ensure fair exams for all students.”

Together, they walked towards the campus security office first, then planned to go to the police station. They had testimonies, witnesses, and a clear pattern of corruption to report.

As they disappeared into the crowd, Adaora’s phone buzzed once more. This time, it was a message from an unknown number: “You won this time. But remember – there are more of us than you think. The game is far from over.”

Adaora smiled grimly. She was ready for whatever came next. The fight for academic integrity was just beginning.

THE END