LOST is an original Lapatutu fiction following Henry’s life journey. All characters, locations, and events in this work are fictional; any resemblance to real entities is entirely coincidental. [Click here if you missed Part 3]
For university, Henry secured a full scholarship to Imani University. It was a young, ambitious private institution—barely three years in existence—that was making a name for itself especially in Information Technology. The owner, who also served as the Minister of Education, had personally seen Henry’s debate talent during the Inter-Continental Debate Championship.
She had kept a keen eye on him ever since, and his relentless streak of debate victories made her decision easy: Henry was exactly the kind of talent her institution needed.
Because the university was so new, however, most students from prominent families were not yet comfortable enrolling there. This meant that the ‘friends’ Henry had studied with at Adrinka would never consider studying here. For that class of people, the prestige of a university was judged by its age—seventy years was often the minimum, and Europe or Asia were the destinations of choice.
Another critical element of consideration was the alumni network. Established universities came with generations of influential graduates all over the world. A three-year-old college like Imani had produced barely one graduating class. It had no alumni footprint in the corporate world, making it an unthinkable choice for families whose children were born expecting pre-paved roads to success.
Henry had tried to keep in touch with his old Adrinka classmates after graduation, but the distance grew silently in their shared group chats. At first, it was casual check-ins, but soon the conversations shifted to university applications, visa interviews, and campus tours abroad. When they began casually comparing institutions where tuition alone exceeded 2,000,000 Shanga (about $100,000 USD), Henry found himself typing fewer and fewer replies. Over time, he drifted into a silent observer, watching a world he could never afford play out on his phone screen.
He was the only student from Adrinka at Imani University. The wealthy Adrinka families had all sent their children to universities abroad. As for the few middle class students who had attended Adrinka on bursaries, Imani’s private tuition was out of reach. This made Henry the lone exception of this category because of his scholarship.
On his very first day, he looked around the grounds, angered by a plain truth: six years spent trying to build networks among the “people who mattered” at Adrinka had left him with no lasting connections. He had been erased the moment he left, quietly and completely forgotten.
But right there, a cold realization took hold. He knew what the wealthy liked. He understood how status worked, how it was performed, and he was confident he could mimic it seamlessly. His time at Adrinka already gave him a massive advantage in perception—people assumed he came from money just by association. And because he was the only Adrinka alumnus at Imani, with no one around to check his history, he had a completely blank slate.
As he walked across campus on that first day, he felt the lingering gazes of passing students—the exact same curious, deferential look he used to give the rich kids at Adrinka. Smiling quietly to himself, Henry knew it was time to become the man he had always promised he would be.
During the long break before university, Henry spent most of his days running errands for his father. On one of those trips into town, as he was walking down the bustling street, a street vendor’s watch display caught his eye. Having spent six years around wealthy classmates at Adrinka, Henry was naturally drawn to fine timepieces.
“How much is the black one?” he asked, pointing.
“That one is 500 Shanga,” the vendor replied smoothly, wiping the glass with his shirt. “Original Rolex. Fit for smart man like you.”
Henry knew what a real Rolex looked, felt, and sounded like and the piece in front of him was definitely not one. Yet, as he held it up to the light, he was struck by how convincing it actually was. To an untrained eye, the difference was almost invisible. The price tag was the only real giveaway.
After bargaining, Henry paid 300 Shanga (about $15 USD) and walked away with the watch.
As he moved around on his first day at campus, wearing his black knock-off watch, one of the first people to approach him complimented him on it.
“Wow, is that a Rolex?”
Henry didn’t even flinch. “Of course it is.”
“Man, how are you able to afford that?”
He was definitely not going to admit it only cost 300 Shanga.
“Matembo is a close friend of mine,” Henry replied smoothly. “We studied together at Adrinka. His father owns the Rolex franchise for Africa, so he gets them for me at a solid discount.”
The thing about lying is how easily the mind adapts to it. Done often enough, it stops being a choice and simply becomes instinct. That was the line Henry had just crossed.
“How much did you get it for?”
That single question was about to change Henry’s entire trajectory. He fell silent for a moment, suddenly hesitant to put a number on it.
“2,000 Shanga.”
Given that the cheapest original Rolex went for at least 12,000 Shanga, this was an astonishing bargain.
“What a discount! Can you get one for me? I can give you the money right now.”
And just like that, Henry’s knock-off business at Imani was born. He quickly realized that many students shared his desire for high-end status but lacked the money for genuine luxury. Soon, he was the main Rolex distributor on campus, constantly playing up his connection to Matembo. His natural gift for speech made every pitch convincing. The scheme generated excessive profit, and his financial standing on campus began to visibly evolve.
He was soon able to accessorize his university room with the latest gadgets and before long, his room became a popular hangout spot for the coolest students. Whenever he hosted, drinks and meals were always plentiful; he was a king in his own little castle. For the first time in his life, Henry felt the quiet thrill of influence. Money had bought him what six years at Adrinka never could: a constant circle of people eager to be in his presence.
Business soared. It was his lying tongue that made the venture flourish. Whenever he received feedback about a defect on a watch, he would skillfully place the blame on shipping and handling, promising to get the client a replacement at half price—a deal that still left him with a handsome profit.
His business had introduced him to a darker personal ethic: to Henry, profit was now unequivocally more important than the people paying him.
It was a stark departure from the values his parents had taught him as he was growing up in Miraje. However, he quickly dismissed the thought as the price of business. When he looked at the comfortable life he was now leading, he convinced himself the ends fully justified the means.
For six full months, Henry had managed to avoid going back home to Miraje.
In truth, the campus hustle had taken up most of his time. He had even stayed at campus during the previous holiday, having more than enough money to sustain himself. He had told his family back home that he had a heavy study schedule to keep up with.
During the Easter holiday of his second semester, he finally decided to make the trip home. In his leather bag, he carried an envelope stuffed with 5,000 Shanga ($250 USD) for his parents, along with a brand-new Philips radio. All this he had managed to do from his knock-off business.
He’d grown accustomed to praise from his university colleagues whenever he dispensed money or gifts, and he eagerly anticipated the same validation from his own kin.
To his surprise, his parents were visibly troubled.
“Son, where are you getting all this money?” his mother asked, her voice laced with worry as she opened the envelope.
“Mummy, just be happy that I have given you money!” Henry responded, a distinct note of pride in his voice.
“Please tell us what you are doing to afford all this!” his father insisted, his gaze firm.
Henry wouldn’t tell them he was selling knock-off watches; he knew exactly what their response would be. He thought quickly, fabricating a believable story.
“I work at a restaurant near the University as a waiter when I am free,” he finally said.
His parents, though visibly reluctant, agreed to accept only the radio. They handed him back the envelope of money, reasoning he would need it for his own university expenses.
Henry was extremely infuriated by this.
For the first time in his newfound life, he had failed to receive praise from people he was trying to impress with money. After a long, suffocating day in Miraje, Henry couldn’t take the quiet judgment any longer. He feigned an emergency back at his residence hall at Imani, claiming he needed to return immediately—despite it only being the Saturday of Easter weekend.
On his way back, alone with his thoughts, he blamed his parents for their lack of exposure to “real life” and, consequently, their inability to appreciate the finer things. He purposed not to go home anymore. The pain of being denied their validation had deeply wounded him, though he made a conscious decision to interprete the feeling simply as anger.
That very evening, still seething from the encounter with his parents, Henry immediately organized a “Game Night” in his room. He called everyone available, promising free food. Within minutes, his room was packed. He desperately needed to recapture the feeling of being adored, and indeed, the praises flowed freely. Once again, he was the King in his Castle, a man admired and respected. He fed off that feeling, using it to cover up the anger and frustration he felt from his family back home.
And for a while, it worked perfectly.
Next week, Henry crosses paths with a prominent Business Mogul in his final year who will take him under his wing. With a mentor far more ruthless and powerful than the governor, Henry’s hunger for wealth and status is about to dive into uncharted waters. Click here to go to Part 5.
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