MY YEARS IN DELTA STATE UNIVERSITY (DELSU)



TITLE:MY YEARS IN DELSU

WRITTEN BY: PROGRESS

In my first year at Delta State University (DELSU), I never expected that my life would take such an unexpected turn. The excitement of starting university was palpable—new friends, new experiences, and the promise of academic achievement all loomed large in my mind. But what I hadn’t anticipated was how DELSU would lead me into an adventure that would forever change how I saw the world.

It all started on a particularly hot afternoon, typical of the region. I had just finished a grueling lecture and decided to take a different route back to my hostel. Rather than follow the usual path, I veered off toward a less-traveled part of the campus, an area that seemed quieter, almost forgotten. The air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of insects, and I found myself drawn to the serenity of the place.

As I walked, I noticed something strange—a narrow, overgrown path leading into a dense thicket of trees. Most students wouldn’t give it a second glance, but there was something about it that intrigued me. Without thinking, I pushed aside the branches and followed the trail. The deeper I went, the more I felt like I was leaving the university behind and stepping into another world.

After what felt like an eternity, I stumbled upon a clearing. In the center was a large, ancient-looking tree with a trunk so wide it would take several people to encircle it with their arms. The tree was unlike any I had ever seen before. Its bark was a deep, reddish-brown, and its roots twisted and curled above the ground like the gnarled fingers of some ancient creature. There was something captivating about it, something that made me feel both awed and uneasy.

Hanging from one of the lower branches was an old, weathered sign that read, “The Tree of Whispers.” I couldn’t help but smile at the name, thinking it was probably just an old campus legend, something seniors might tell freshmen to spook them. But as I stood there, the wind picked up, and I could have sworn I heard something—faint, almost like whispers carried on the breeze.

I shook off the feeling and decided to sit under the tree for a while. The shade it provided was cool, and I found myself relaxing, the tension from the day melting away. As I sat there, I noticed carvings in the bark, names, dates, and strange symbols that looked like they had been there for decades, maybe even longer. It was as if generations of students had left their mark on this tree, contributing to its aura of mystery.

Days passed, and I found myself returning to the tree regularly. It became my secret hideaway, a place where I could escape the chaos of university life and simply be. The more time I spent there, the more I noticed the whispers. They weren’t just the rustling of leaves or the wind—there was a pattern to them, a rhythm that seemed to pulse with life. Sometimes, I thought I could make out words, but they were always just beyond comprehension, like trying to recall a dream after waking.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the clearing, I decided to stay later than usual. The sky turned a deep indigo, and the campus lights flickered on in the distance, but I felt no urgency to leave. The tree, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, seemed more alive than ever, its whispers louder and more distinct.

Suddenly, I felt a change in the air—a warmth that spread from the tree to me, as if it were trying to communicate. And then, the whispers became clear. They weren’t just random sounds; they were voices, voices of students who had come before me, sharing their stories, their hopes, their regrets. I was stunned, unsure if I was imagining things, but the feeling was too real, too vivid to ignore.

The voices spoke of dreams unfulfilled, of love lost and found, of challenges faced and overcome. They spoke of the bonds formed in the halls of DELSU, of the knowledge gained, and of the wisdom passed down through the generations. Each story was unique, yet there was a common thread—a deep connection to the university, to the tree, and to the experiences that shaped their lives.

I don’t know how long I sat there, listening to the whispers of the past, but when I finally stood up, the night had fully settled in. The tree’s aura had shifted from eerie to comforting, as if it had shared its secrets with me, trusting me to carry them forward.

From that night on, the Tree of Whispers became my confidant, my guide through the challenges of university life. Whenever I felt lost or overwhelmed, I would return to the tree, seeking solace in its presence and the voices it carried. It was as if the tree knew what I needed to hear, offering advice and encouragement in its own mysterious way.

As the years passed, I began to understand that the tree wasn’t just a silent witness to the lives of students—it was a living archive, a repository of memories and wisdom accumulated over decades, maybe even centuries. The carvings in its bark were more than just names; they were stories, each one a testament to the enduring spirit of DELSU and its students.

I never told anyone about the tree or the whispers, not even my closest friends. It was my secret, a bond shared between me and the generations who had come before. But as graduation approached, I knew it was time to leave my mark, to add my story to the tree’s legacy.

On the night before graduation, I returned to the clearing one last time. Armed with a small pocketknife, I carefully carved my name into the bark, alongside the countless others who had come before me. As I finished, I placed my hand on the tree, feeling the rough texture of the bark beneath my fingers. The whispers returned, but this time, they were different. They weren’t just voices from the past—they were mine, too, a part of the ongoing story of DELSU.

As I walked away from the tree that night, I felt a profound sense of connection, not just to the university, but to something much larger—the collective experiences, hopes, and dreams of those who had passed through its gates. DELSU had given me more than an education; it had given me a sense of belonging, a place in a story that would continue long after I was gone.

And so, I graduated, carrying the memories of the Tree of Whispers with me, knowing that a part of me would always remain at DELSU, intertwined with the lives of those who came before and those who would come after. The tree’s whispers would continue, passing on its secrets to the next generation, and I knew that one day, another curious student would find their way to the clearing, ready to add their story to the tree’s ever-growing legacy.