Yea! Yea! It’s been a while really, but trust me, I have
been busy and each time the inspiration comes, the environment is usually not conducive
enough to write. It was children’s day, and
since we were once kids, I've decided to share some remarkable memories of my
childhood. This isn’t fiction; it’s real just like true-life stories…. Enjoy
Immediately I
spotted Mrs. Okonkwo, my class teacher, walking in with some files, I knew my
fate was around the corner. We need not be told to take a pew and comport ourselves
because we apparently knew something was about to happen, not even her cane was
enough to make us put our bums together.
She carefully
dropped the heavy files which were followed by a moment of decorum in class. Mrs.
Okonkwo warned us to listen carefully as she began the tradition of calling our
names alphabetically from the attendance list and as soon as a name is mentioned,
she will direct the student to check his/her name among the files.
It took
almost forever for my name to be uttered, apparently there were quiet a number
of students whose surnames began with the letter “A”, this aggravated my fears.
I suddenly fell into a deep thought of what might happen If it was positive, I
imagined how my mum would buy me the new trekkers in vogue, how I was going to flaunt
the shoe on the first day of resumption to everyone especially Bolatito, who
has never given me the slightest attention because of Seyi, the rich kid that has
everything working for him. I snapped out of my reverie and thought about the
negative; the shame of failing in class, the sore beatings from pop, the
disappointment on mum’s face and all.
Bello
Olamide!!! The name echoed and I got a harsh tap from Giwa, he was a violent
and naughty boy, I never liked him, he formed a clique I detested and we fought
each time he tried to bully me. Yes Ma! I shouted, my heart pounded uncontrollably, I
reached for the files and sieved through them but I couldn’t find my name. I
was taking longer than every other pupil to check, Mrs. Okonkwo’s eyeballs
stared at me like that of an owl, “I smell trouble,” I muttered under my
breath. She insisted I went through it
again and I mustn’t dare her to check herself otherwise I would be a guinea pig
for newly acquired whip. Mrs Okonkwo was a fat and very mean woman, she could
be described as a despicable Nanny McPhil. I once believed she was a witch
because of how she treated students without concern or sympathy. I vouched
to hit her with the car my father promised to buy for me after university but
the car never came.
I checked more
carefully and I found my fate within seconds, I opened it and my eyes went
straight to the bottom of the page where the final comment was written,
“Olamide is a very quiet boy and well behaved but advised to REPEAT SS 1.”
Even at that
tender or rather immature age, I wondered why such good comment should be
accompanied by a “repeat”. I disliked
Mrs. Okonkwo more… I felt like crying but I said “NO, why should I”, I knew it
wasn’t over , well I predicted it considering my flippancy that
term. I closed my judgment book, gave an impression that “all iz well”, and
left the class.
Home was a
no-go area, though my folks were expecting me since the school was closing for
the term and the hostel would automatically be under lock and keys. I consulted my thinking cap and decided to visit
a close friend & class/dorm mate who lived some meters away from my house. I could tag Okon my bestie as he was a big
influence on me, we spent most of the time together shooting pool and missing
classes a lot of times. My friend was
also a fighter and very few people could contend with him, he was a bully but a
very nice one.
I wasn’t
surprised to see Okon playing his habitual football in his compound, I knew he
had failed but he never saw it as a big deal, but for me, it was beyond a deal,
it was a REAL DEAL. He bragged that he
wasn’t going to repeat, he boasted he will rather change school instead… After
playing football with some few friends and Okon, it was getting dark and my
folks were definitely waiting to have me after some months in school, so, I
begged Okon to help me keep my bad result and I went home. On getting home, everyone had been awaiting
my arrival; my mum carried me and sang some special lullabies even though it
wasn’t bedtime as she did when I was a baby. She never stopped praising me in
my pet name, ‘Omo-Ola’ (Child of
wealth). My mum would stop at nothing to
make me happy which often got my siblings jealous.
The welcome
party was cut short by my dad. Pop called and asked for my position not even if
I passed, it was funny no one ever imagined I could fail (I was like the efiko
of the house), I lied the results haven’t been issued and would probably be
ready on resumption. Apparently, my father was not comfortable with my story
and insisted to visit my school (over sabi dey always worri am), I convinced
him and he budged.
Shortly after
a week, he said he intended getting a GCE form for me that week (he so believed
in me), and he would like to sound my teacher out on this, he decided we would
both go to the school to see her. Alas! At that moment I knew the bubble would
be burst soon. Then I dropped a specially
composed runaway letter…
To be
continued…
Its-Bellz
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