DIARY OF A UNISCA ALUMNUS - MY JOURNEY THROUGH UNITY

It’s still a fresh memory. I remember the day I set my feet's on the anointed ground of Unity Secondary School Ado-Ekiti. It was a long awaited reality. I had dreamt about that very day a long time before it actually manifested. I was eager to become a secondary school student. I was just tired of the primary school life I had lived for nine years. I longed to adorn a different look; I longed to have my freedom. I had rehearsed in my head how fantastic it will be to live away from home, how interesting it will be to make new friends and learn new things. 

Like an innocent lover who is meeting a date for the first time, I had judiciously planned for my journey into boarding school. My sisters told me I would need pepper, salt and Palm oil. She told me the food were tasteless and watery. She told me about “Feshelu” and pepper stew. I already fantasized about them so I came prepared with all my soup ingredients.

Our journey was rather long for me. The journey was meant to be short one since we were only moving from Basiri to Aba Egbira. I was so anxious to start my new boarding life to even notice that a lot of things had actually changed about me.

I was the lady with the dark, shinning and long hair. That was my signature right from age one. I rocked my signature hair till my primary four. I rocked it till the moment I got that admission into unity Ado. Unfortunately, my hair went with the good news. My boldness went too. 

The long journey from my home to the school gave me the opportunity to ruminate over my life. I went back the memory lane. It has been an eventful journey through life for me. I remembered my humble beginning. I remembered the look on my father when I got home with my first report sheet. I was in Primary one. My father had enrolled me in one of the public primary school within our vicinity. It was the place for every child living in the community. My sister’s schooled there and it was only normal that I enroll there. Things went normal until my addiction set in. I hopelessly lost the opportunity to continue in the community Methodist School just because I sucked my thumbs. 

I am an addict to thumb sucking. I could cross ocean and walk through the desert in other to suck my thumb. I did it with no sense of shame or dignity. I had once broken a Plaster of Paris placed around my thumbs with a big stone just to fulfill my fantasy. I sucked my thumbs like someone possessed with a strange spirit. Unfortunately, my addiction got the best of me and the community school was tired of me.

 
The school was tired of my tantrums. My constant disappearance into the thick forest to fulfill my fantasy was a burden to the school. So I was told to go home. My report sheet read “Promoted but Withdraw”. Do I even know what that meant? Do I even care if it reads otherwise as long as I can still suck my thumbs regularly?

I lost two years to thumb sucking and somehow, I gained it back. I left primary school for my boarding school in class four. I was too petite to be considered a secondary school student. (Well, I think I still look too petite to be considered an adult self).

I was too deep in thought to know that we were already inside Unisca campus. The market-like noise brought me back to reality. “No. she is coming to Room 35, No, it’s room 36. No, its room 40” The seniors were all out dragging me from my father. They all wanted me to be in their rooms. I watched as my father smiled on at the show of sudden interest in her daughter. I was scared for my life. Nobody told me the seniors were as big as Goliath. Nobody told me they were many in numbers. I waited for my father to push them off and tell them to leave me alone. Alas, that never happened. Daddy watched on as I became an object of choice in the slave market.

I thought the seniors were so nice and kind to show such love towards me. I was wrong. I didn’t know they were actually building up their slave’s dynasty. I realized later on that the number of juniors in a room determines the royalty of such room. I settled for Room 38. Till tomorrow, I do not understand what I did to the gods to make me choose such room. I must have been under a strong spell. Room 38. The room that sends fear down the spines of all 1st Square inhabitants

Room 38 was everything a room should not be. It was different from every other room in First Square. Well, one cannot rule out the attitude and character of the inhabitants of room 38. It was just different from every other room around. I will not dwell much on the characters of the seniors of room 38 because I also end up becoming a senior in room 38. However, one can talk freely about the dislikes that nature bestowed on that room. The gutters were annoyingly stinking. Apart from the fact that the geographical position of room 38 suffers from nature illness, the building itself also suffers from architectural illness. Room 38 glory must be restored with this bringing back the lost glory train.

The contractor who designed and constructed the hostel did a myopic job. All the water in the drainages all ends their journey in-front of room 37 and room 38. The drainage was never dry. At a point, I started dreaming that witches were actually having meetings in that drainage. 

Like I was saying before the sudden recollection of how room 38 looked, I got my room that same day and I think I got my wardrobe that same day too. I carefully unpacked my goods into my wardrobe while I watched my environment keenly. I tried to scan the room to see if there is any one as petite as myself. I suddenly felt this coldness takes over my whole body. That was when I realized that I have suddenly developed fear for my own survival.

I slept in fear that night. I must have been disturbed to even catch a smooth sleep. It was 2am in the morning and my eyes were still wide open and my thoughts scattered.

That was the first time that I will be sleeping 500 meters away from my father. I must have been lost in my thoughts to realize that I was seeing things in the physical realm.…I saw them entered the room. They came in through one of the open windows. They were naked except for the black boxers and the black mask. I must have died several times. Demons?, Satan?, Witches? But then I thought again, witches are not men so these can’t be witches. 

One moved to my bunk, I was cold like a frozen chicken. He tried to check my face then I heard him communicate faintly with others that she is a minor. Then, they moved to my bunk mate. She happened to be in SS2 at that time. They looked at her, smiled mischievously and they brought out a paste-like substance and placed it in her mouth. They continued again to other bunks and carried out their mischievous acts. They eventually left around 3am and I must have caught some sleep around 4:30am.

In the morning, there were reports among the seniors that some guys came to the hostel. There were conflicting reports. Nobody saw them but I guess they left some marks to show that they came. Then, everything started coming together for me. They were not demons after all. They were senior boys who just derive pleasure in visiting girl’s hostel at odd hours. I started asking myself, what do they stand to gain? Why will anybody deny himself the comfort of his own bed to carry out such act? I was amazed at my discovery. This must surely go down in my diary.

…The first few weeks of my stay was actually worth embracing. I got some pampering here and there from my seniors but as days rolled into weeks and weeks into months, things started changing. My seniors were becoming more like my masters. At first, we had a sister-sister relationship and somehow, it spiraled out to a master-slave relationship. The metamorphosis was beyond my comprehension. It seems I was constantly pressing the wrong buttons with my seniors. 

It didn’t take me too long to know where I belong. I found my way to the household of faith fellowship. The official SU caucus on Unisca Campus. I became a fellowship member. I was able to find some people who still see me as a sister. I eventually find a peaceful place to go after all the drama of Room 38. I met Sister Tayo Osho, Yemi Osho, Laide Fagbola, Motunrayo Hassan and so on. Words failed me at this very moment. I really do not know how to describe these seniors. Sister Tayo lifestyle practically brought me to Christ. I almost decamped to 3rd square just because of her. She was so sweet and caring. God bless you sis.

I must not forget the men too. Bro Jide Adeyemi, Bayo Akomolafe, Olumide Otekalu, Ayo Adigun and so on. I am sure you guys did not know what you sowed into me. I have had cause to reach out to Sister Tayo Oso over the years and she just couldn’t remember me anymore. I really don’t care if she does but I remember her for all the good things she did for me. I also sent a message to Bro. Jide Adeyemi recently. I am awed by who God turned you into bro. You were an inspiration to me back then and God bless you so much

…I eventually became a part of the system. I was petite but my mouth was and still a giant. I quickly understood that for one to survive in an environment like Unisca, you need to have either an intimidating stature or a killer-tongue. I opted for the killer-tongue

I had always wondered why I was never smart enough to read the handwritings on the wall back then. I noticed that there were no timid looking girls around the room the day my father dropped me off. I thought all the girls were naturally tall and big. I concluded in my mind that they must have really been well fed for them to look that voluptuous. I dreamt of when I was also going to start looking well-formed and Curvy. I didn't know I was only dreaming until reality woke me up.

It took me weeks to understand that our immediate seniors (J.S.S 2) students actually absconded from the hostel. I observed a trend with them. They normally sneak into the room to pick whatever things they will need and before you even have the strength to say Jack, they would have disappeared again.

I didn't realize why until the day I walked in their shoes. I started noticing that seniors don't refer to us like human. I can't speak for other rooms but my seniors have a way of calling us. They will say “one goat there". If no one answers them, they will repeat the demeaning qualification again. If you fail to answer this time, you are just on the way to become a bus conductor. That usually follows after a well resounding slap.

The bus conductor punishment was a corporal one. You will have to use one hand to hold the bunk in a similar way a danfo driver hangs to the door of his bus. Our seniors named it "Gan Bus". If peradventure the angels are on your case, they can tell you to "Muka Obo" - suck monkey thumb.

Gradually, I became use to the mean treatment of the seniors and unknowingly to them; their actions were making a rebel out of me. Everything comes with a slap or a punishment. It was as if they derived pleasure in my pain. Oh my days. I have lived in the fear of my own experience and I will never allow any of my kids go through this. I think I am a bit paranoid now and my hubby thinks I need counseling. Those days haunt me till this moment. I had once threatened to sue my child care-giver because I had a premonition that she spanked him. I’ve had reasons to change my son’s school three times within the space of a year. I have fears from the past that still haunt me. 

Somehow, I thought i was lucky to have a school mother in a particular senior B. I noticed that the first weeks of resumption were my golden weeks. Senior B always treats me nice for those few weeks. Unfortunately, senior B also takes the nice treatment to my provisions. It became a trend. Eventually, by the time our love starts dwindling; my meagre provisions too would have gone down drastically. Then rejections will set in. Senior B will immediately start picking holes in my words and my deeds. 

Seriously, this wasn't what broke my heart about senior B. I could have coped with her rejection but the singular fact that senior B. would then move ahead to Tokunbo. 

Tokunbo is the definition of Posh and Rich. She always comes around to school with two to three sets of eye-catchy provisions. She had all the assorted provisions I had never seen in my entire childhood. I was not a bit moved by Tokunbo's expensive provision. I had a Richoco for her Bournvita, a cabin biscuit for her assorted biscuits, sometimes I do come to school with the smallest bottle of Tasty time. 

I don't get the luxury of coming with milk because dad thinks I need not grow any bone again. Maybe dad didn't think like that. Maybe there was no money to get the milk. The most important thing was my contentment and I had it intact. I never really had the shoes and things I needed back then but I had my integrity.

My School mother eventually stepped on my toes the day she cunningly slept on my mattress. She had been showing me her terrible side for almost two weeks only for her to come to me on a particular night demanding we share the same mattress. I obliged her grudgingly. So we slept together on the same mattress that night. I was woken up by a rude shock. My mattress was wet with water-like liquid. My mattress was drenching. I tried to look up at the roof to see if it rained while we were sleeping. Maybe the roof was leaking and that got to us. I checked the roof, the window and everywhere possible. There was no faintest drop of rain and no possibility that it was a natural occurrence.

At that time, I remembered my school mother who asked to be my sleep-mate the previous night. I tried in vain to scan through the room to see if would catch a glimpse of her but she was nowhere to be found What happened?..I don't bed-wet. So why is all these happening to me? 

Just like the voice in the burning bush called unto Moses, I heard my name. Somebody called my name. Not in the most fascinating way I have ever thought of but I heard my name in the most hurtful way I would never love to remember. I turned back to see who called me in such a horrible way. Alas, it was my school mother. Before I could answer her, she made a move to slap me. She roared “When did you start bed-wetting? How dare you bed-wet at your age? The accusations were demeaning. I could be everything from stubborn to wicked and from hard to mean but I will never be a bed-wetter. I felt the drop of tears run down my cheeks. I said in tears “Senior B, I never bed-wet when I was in primary school and heaven knows I will not start today". It’s not a crime to bed-wet. It’s not a disease either but it’s just that I don’t bed-wet.

She continued to robe me into her already constructed plan. She told me I could have called her to see me off to the toilet if I knew I was pressed. By this time, the masters were already awake. I stood there in fear of what might happen if the mighty masters decide to wade in. Fresh tears welled up in my eyes. I can take everything from any human but I will not take a purported attempt to malign my name from anybody.

I stood there confused and hurt. In that confused state, my mind did a 360 degree tour. I remembered that the same scenario played out between senior B and another junior. It was a replica of my own scene. I remembered that the same thing also happened between senior B and Tokunbo her school daughter. I remembered that senior B was a steady bed-wetter until recently that her slates became clean. I remembered her days of constant reproach and reprimand and how she suddenly stopped bed-wetting almost the same time she started hopping into people's beds. I remembered the rumors that senior B peddled about my family to her friends. Finally, I remembered my provisions and how they always diminish as soon as senior B love for me grows cold. I remembered the hunger I had to go through while senior B moves to her next victim and….I decided right there and then that enough is enough.

By this time, the seniors were already gathering together to punish another goat. I looked at my school mother and I noticed she had no iota of humanity left. I look at senior K as she made to kick me. My heart cringed. I stood up, walked up to my school mother (senior B) and I told her she missed it. I told everybody the story. How she pleaded to sleep on my bed. How she woke up very early and disappeared. How the same thing happened to Tokunbo then Fausat and....

I looked at my school mother and right there, I told her I sacked her. I sacked senior B as my School mother. I knew my life was never going to remain the same again but I was ready to face the consequences.

Most times, when we bully others and treat them real bad, they outgrow the hurt and hate. They get this courage that defiles explanation. They grow thick skin and more often than not, they always end up facing us back with heightened determination to payback the hurt. That happened to me. I went through those periods and I almost lost my sanity. However, I became a little monster. The monster you ignore at your own peril.

Life was not smooth after I sacked my school mother but, it wasn’t that better too when she was there-smiles. There was no difference really. Just that I was in charge of whatever happens to my Richoco...The struggle to get a basin of water to have my “rub and shine” became tedious. Water suddenly became gold. The wells refuse to produce water and students started going right inside the well with spoons to scoop water. 

Call it strange but it was my reality. We were sold out as slaves to our masters. Each senior had a junior who serves her. It was not an interesting thing. There are days for the servants sales. Each junior will line up and the seniors will come around to pick whoever they prefer as their servants. It was always a battle of the strongest. Naturally, some seniors were more powerful than others. Those powerful seniors get to pick their servants first. Funny enough, they always end up picking the best. The remaining juniors are then left for the not so powerful seniors to choose from. 

There were cliques and caucus among our seniors. We had the SU, the Rich and Classy, the Hard and Mean, the locals and the Beautiful and Reigning. Most times, the Rich and Classy are also the beautiful and reigning ones. There is just this correlation between money and beauty. Also, I noticed that the Rich and classy are most times from Lagos and Rivers. Those were the loaded ones. They had money and beauty to throw around. They speak English fluently and everybody just wants to be like them. They are the most sought after girls on Unisca campus. They were the Latifats and the Tayo’s.

The hard and mean are most times the locals, Indigenes. Don’t get me wrong. We had few indigenes that could strut it out with the Lagos girls. They spoke fluently too and they are not bad looking. Those ones were the ex- Poly staff school students, the ex-OSUA staff school students, the ex-saint Joseph’s N/P school students and the ex-Christ N/P students. These people had swags back then.

However, the other set of the Hard and Mean were the locals. Those ones attended LA Primary School Idolofin, Anglican Primary School Okeyinmi and Community primary school Okesa. Those seniors were the worst of all. They wanted so much to be among the reigning cliques and every downfall they met is an avenue to visit their frustrations on the juniors. It was hell living with these set of people. Unfortunately, fate threw me there. My path was intertwined with these people.

Good news is, nobody wants me as their servant. I was a bad market for the seniors. I would always be the last person to be picked up by any senior and most times, I am also left with the less powerful one among their sets. Truthfully, having a senior to serve sometimes comes as a blessing in disguise. If you are fortunate to be with a powerful senior, then you had cover. Nobody in her set can call you or send you on any errand without her approval. If she is the nice type, she could be a sort of messiah to you. The only thing she had to do is just to tell the other predators that she sent you on an errand and voila, you are free. 

On the other hand, if you are the smart type then, you have just won yourself a walk to freedom. Anytime any of her mates or juniors called you, just tell them she sent you on an errand. Then you are free. Most times, majority of the predators do not have the liver to face your messiah so they chicken out and look for another prey. I was in the most unfortunate circle. My senior was as incapacitated as myself. So I had to look for a survival strategy.

When you serve a senior, you do practically everything for her from ironing, washing, fetching water, running errands, bringing food from the dining hall to running their egos when the need arise. We could have helped them go to lecture rooms too but for the divine fate that makes transferring brain impossible.

So I had my own senior to serve. We were two of a kind. Two powerless beings joined together by fate. I was the only thing that made her realize she was a senior. She would yell at me, Speak to me like she was in a fiasco with someone her mate. I was the toy she used to up her ego. I was the being that made her feel superior. But I seriously don’t blame her. We were just two of a kind. 

Just like every other day after lectures, I went to the well this day as usual. The tiny bowl was casually placed by my side and my spoon was inside my pocket. I got to the well, placed the bowl on the well and made to start my adventure. I went inside the well, patiently scooped my water with the spoon until my bowl was full. With the bowl on my head, I carefully traced my way out of the well. I calculated my movements as I pushed through the finely placed well-rings. 

I remembered that I was just getting to the tip of the well and as I was trying to make my final exit out of the well, I heard this deafening noise. It was like a waterfall. The noise was strange and loud. I rushed out of the well and was afraid to turn back to catch a glimpse. All the students at the well started running away. I grabbed my bowl of water so that I could scamper to safety with it. As I turned to pick up the bowl, I became speechless. Strength left me. Blood drained out of me. I was there on that spot. It must have been for 10minutes or maybe 20minites. I looked on as another wonder played out right in front of me. Till this very day, I have not been able to understand what happened that day. 

Let me indulge you with the details of what happened. As I tried to make my final exit from the well, water suddenly came out from the holes of the rings. In less than 5 seconds, the water filled up the whole well. The same well I was just coming out from. The same well I had use spoon to scoop water from. This was during the dry season so you now see why I was so speechless. Where did the water come from? Where? All answers elude me. I was in solitude and I wept for joy. In reality, if I had stayed just one second longer in that well, I would have been a dead soul. I almost lost my life while trying to serve another. I ain't no Jesus peeps. That day, marked another remarkable turning point in my life. That was the day I got changed. That was the day I lost all sense of slavery. 

I got to the room with tears in my eyes and I fixed my gaze on the senior I was serving. The realization that I just came out from the valley of the shadow of death overwhelmed me. Right there in my front, my master, who was oblivious of the danger I just escaped, asked for her water in the most unsympathetic manner I could ever imagined. I stood there, kept mute, fixed my gaze on her and made a strange vow with my inner self. I said “today, I take my future into my hands. I decide how I run my life and ultimately, I decide my actions".....the stories that happened afterwards, brought this diary into limelight.

...In life, we need to understand that people take some steps because of some reasons. If you have never walked in my shoes, please don't judge me...

I think it’s imperative that I state it empathically that this diary is not to cast aspersion on anybody. It’s not to ridicule or malign anybody. It’s not a tool to remember the years of hurt and anger. It’s for my healing. I was hurting for years. I was angry with some people who treated me in a manner less befitting of human. I wanted vengeance. I spoke about vengeance. Until the very day I let it all out. I told myself I hurt more for keeping those hurts. I told myself it was time to let go. That was the day I got my freedom. That was the day I became whole and healed. I have forgiven all those who hurt me. Sincerely, I have. I just want us to ‪#‎bringbackthedaysoflostglory#. This diary is also part of my final healing. Just as I have released this diary, I have finally released my hurt.

Just for the records, I have lived with this diary for 22 years. I started writing this diary from the day I set my foot on Unisca campus in 1993. Much appreciation goes to my father who taught me this. He told me a pen is mightier than a sword. He advised that wherever I found myself, I should not be without a pen and a pad. That was the kind of life I lived. I am convinced majority of my classmates called me Nerdy. One of my classmates still said the same thing this past week. He told me I came across to him as a SU and a nerd. I vehemently denied it and I told him I will prefer the word “brilliant”. Truth be told, I knew he was right about me. I was a Nerd or better still, I am a Nerd. 

I remembered a lot about my childhood. I was denied everything my age mates had. My age mates had bicycles and Toys, I had a room filled with books. At age 7, I was done with books like: She stoop to conquer, The tales of two cities, The trials of brother Jero, The Incorruptible judge, The gods are not to blame, the beautiful ones are not yet born, just to name a few. My father made sure I read and understood the stories perfectly. He was my book companion. We read together, joked together and discussed issues together. Unfortunately, I lost my childhood because I had no memories of toys and Cinderella. My father thought they were for the lazy ones.

My life was a routine. At the tender age of 7, I lived with a frustrating schedule that centered on acquiring more knowledge. I remembered I normally leave for school around 7:30am, done with school around 2pm, attends the school extra coaching from 2pm-4pm, heads home to take my lunch pack and move straight to my private lesson center from 4-6pm. I then had to go home to work on my assignments. I normally finish my assignments around 8pm. Then I had to take my book and read till 10pm. That was my everyday routine. That was the routine I took to Unity.

It didn’t take long for my seniors to know I was brilliant. In barely three weeks of resuming as a fresher, I had read all my textbooks three times cover to cover and I can tell you the exact page for each topic. Majority thought I was a strange being. I made friends quickly with the revelation of my brilliance and I also got some senior admirers too. Teachers too were not left out. My constant admirer was Mr. Adeoye, the PHE instructor. Don’t get it twisted. I was not one of his ladies. He never even talked to me about that shit. He just admired me. He would put my name among the people going for every sport activities even if I was not having any role to play there. He was castigated and insulted for this severally but he never faltered. I felt on top of the world the day he told someone he would still put my name even if I have no leg to walk. He was one of the people who believed in me.

I know there were side talks and gossips everywhere and I think I should lay them straight now. Mr. Adeoye, Mr. Dairo, Mr. Ayeni or Mr. Bayo never asked me out. They were just drawn to the grace I carried. They were drawn to the intelligence I exhibited and the brilliance I displayed. Did somebody just say “now she is sounding vain? Well, we are all vain. Every human has vanity in them so permit me to bask in this two minutes vanity fame

Back to the teachers and students stories, I was used to such life right from my primary school days. Just like a lot of people thought I was dating Uncle Sola back then. The revelation made me to realize that we have a lot of pervert minds among us. Like seriously, who will think such a nonsensical thought? What could uncle Sola or the other teachers see in me? Guess some people don’t even know how I looked back then. I was the girl you could easily mistaken for a boy until you take the third critical look. I was straight like a pen, had nothing to show that I was a woman. I was petite and underage. Every part of me screams toddler. I was like this until I gained admission into the university. So, why will anybody who can easily get better looking girls opt for me? It just didn’t add up. The truth is, the rumour mongers missed something about life and it’s simple “A man’s gift makes way for him and makes him stand before great men; the same gift also brings friends to him”.

I was already getting used to the inhuman lifestyle that oozed from every corner of Unisca campus. It was so strange to admit that I was beginning to enjoy every bit of it. You remember I told you in part 3 that I made up my mind to take responsibility for my own life; well, I did. I became a school mother to myself. I decided on the errands to run and the ones to reject. I was not even scared of the punishments anymore. I became thick-skinned to the beatings. I could go straight with 20 strokes of cane without twisting my body. I became wired in the hard way. That was another survival strategy for me.

And then our seniors started their tantrums again. They were using our kerosene’s to prepare “Orus” while we slept. That only was not the big deal. The big deal is that they always wake us up in the middle of the night to go get more kerosene for our lanterns. Can you beat that? Someone took the pain to fill her lantern with kerosene, you stole the kerosene from the lantern to prepare “Orus” and you still have the heart to wake the person up around 2am to go fill up her lantern again. This brings me to the crucial questions I had wanted to ask all these while. Don’t these seniors sleep at all? How can somebody be up and active around 2am when the person is not a ghost? 

Lights out meant nothing to our seniors. It’s just another alarm to herald the entry of Orus cooking. For us juniors, it’s another time to have a short sleep. The request for kerosene in the middle of the night became a norm, so also was our acts of speaking to demons. Yes, demons. Or, how does one explain the motive behind someone waking you up to get kerosene around 2am. Isn’t she expecting that we speak the languages of demons to get a miracle? At least, it’s only demons and ghost that moves at such odd hours.

The kerosene burden became unbearable and I started seeking asylum in other rooms. That was the only solution. I perfected the act of staying in my own hostel till evening time then quietly packing my wrapper to relocate to my refugee camp. I had friends in other rooms with kind-hearted seniors and their room became my Jerusalem. I evaded my seniors until they fished me out and made me pack my things back with fear and trembling.

I think there is a network agreement among our seniors. Your secret just can’t be safe with anyone of them. They would eventually spill it to their mates. If you are running away from senior A in First Square, somehow, senior Z in Third Square already knows about the story and that makes you a Federal Wanted Specie.

I think our continuous lack of kerosene got the worst out of senior T one fateful day. She was pissed with the fact that some of our basic tools were not even complete anymore. Tools like parker, broom, cutlass, hoe, Lantern and kerosene were not in sufficiency and senior T thought we were just acting spoilt. So she told all the juniors that we were going to be inspected on Saturday and everybody should come out with their tools. For every tool you fail to have, you would be entitled to five plummeting of her belt. It was the day we all dreaded. 

I had my half-broom, lantern and hoe intact. I had no cutlass due to no fault of mine. When I came in newly to unisca, I had my cutlass. Happenings over the months showed me that there were people who claimed to be “labourless”. Funny thing is, there is nothing like “labourless” in the dictionary. Even Microsoft word has highlighted it for me here. However, in Unisca, there were “everythingless”. From “Labourless” to “Pepperless” and “Readingless” but, there was no Foodless. 

Some people said they were labourless and that exempted them from the rigours of Saturday mornings. Looking back now, I still try to differentiate between us and the prisoners. Seriously, is there any reasonable reason why a child would wake up without food in the morning and you will tell her to go cut the grass? Is it reasonable? Does it sound anything close to impacting knowledge in people? To me, it’s just pure cruelty. 

Knowing fully well that the only option for me to escape from the Saturday’s cruelty is to assume the role of a labourless, I went into action immediately. I started by telling my father to get me a doctor report that will exonerate me from labour and also shows that it’s medically unfit for me to partake in such rigours. My father declined instantly. He told me he was never going to be part of such decadence. I took up my broken spirit and walked to one of the mama cooks. I told her pathetic stories of my life. I told her why it’s evil for me to do labour on Saturdays. I told her I had untreated appendicitis. I acted my movie in a captivating manner that even the vilest of all men would have been touched. Mama cook was touched. She took me hand in hand to the health center and that was where I got my labourless certificate from. Since I became labourless, I had done away with my cutlass so there was no way I would be able to produce my cutlass for senior T.

The Saturday came quickly. Back in those days, it seems that the days were always faster especially when we wish they are slower. The much dreaded Saturday came. Gloominess came over every junior in room 38. Everywhere was still and quiet like the graveyard. Suddenly, Tolu walked up to me. Tolu was a quiet and gentle looking lady. She was unlike me in some many ways. She is reserved, dark and has curly hairs. She seldom talks. She is always in a somber mood. Over the years now, I think Tolu is a Phlegmatic. With tears in her eyes, she pleaded with me to give her my hoe. She wanted to show my hoe as hers. That sound strange to me and even worrisome because Tolu already has six out of the eight tools we were meant to have. I, on the other hand had three. If the threat of senior T is anything to go buy, then my cane will be 5 multiplied by 5 while Tolu’s own will be 5 multiplied by 2. That still makes sense. 10 strokes of cane is not a weird thing in Unity but 25 strokes is weird.

Tolu wanted me to bail her out of her 10 strokes of cane by giving her one of my tools so that her cane will reduce to 5 while mine rise to 30. Does that make sense to you at all? I forgot to also say that beyond the constant somber look of Tolu was a young lady full of wisdom and self centeredness. Tolu would always watch her back while leaving you to sink in mud. I saw her tears, I looked past the tears and I thought I saw her heart too. I was moved to pity so I gave my hoe to Tolu. Seriously, I was not trying to act like a champion but I just couldn’t look past Tolu’s fear. She dreaded the canes of senior T and I thought it wise to save her from the misery. Afterwards, I gave my remaining two tools out to others. I was without a single tool. I stood there in the middle of the room ready to face the consequences of my actions. At that point, I couldn’t care anymore.

Senior T voice brought us out of our trance. She has a way of talking. Her voice is not that sonorous. It’s a bit husky. Her voice has this fear factor. Senior T is the fear factor. She was among the reigning and powerful. She was the first in her set. She was the one who talks and the sea roars. Senior T is someone I will never forget in my lifetime. She told us to line up in the middle of the room. Everybody should place their tools in their fronts. Some had six out of eight, some four, some five but I had none. My front was glaringly empty. I stood there, heart closed, brain shut, conscience destroyed, sanity missing. At that moment, nothing matters to me anymore. I had gone past the point of fear and trembling now. 

When it was my turn, senior T asked for my own tools and I told her I had none. She got furious. Instantly, I felt the first slap on my cheeks. In quick succession, I felt the second and the third. I didn’t move. I just stood there. I had no feelings of the pain. I buried my pain a long time ago. I stood there like a rock. I fixed my gaze on her. My eyes dared her, my soul too. My innermost being was screaming do your worst. Then she ordered me to lie down. She demanded for her belt and I felt the first belt on my back. The second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth…twenty-sixth……Thirty…Thirty-two….my fragile body caved in. Strength failed me. I laid there on the floor and I can tell you sincerely that life lost it meaning that day. There were no single tears on my cheek. I was crying inside. I was hurting. I hated senior T for dehumanizing me. I hated my father more for exposing me to the terrible life. Once done with me, she moved to the next person.

I stood up, dusted my gown and also my sanity. I took a long walk out of the room without a destination in mind. I was just walking. I walked away the pain. I must confess that these memories brought back tears. I am crying as I am typing this. I know Keji’s will understand my pain today. This diary was long overdue. I need my final healing

After the beating, normalcy returned a bit. We etched closer to the end of the term and everybody had reasons to be happy. Tolu, the lady I helped out, took a short break to go home. Now, this is the part that senior T never got to believe. Senior T, I know you will be reading this diary. You know I love you and that I have always loved you. When I told you these truth years back on my knees, you didn’t believe me. I told you to believe me. I never reported you to my father. Tolu did.

When Tolu got home, Tolu told her dad about the whole beating that was meted out to me. Tolu’s dad happened to be my own dad’s friend. I managed to secure my exit for the weekend so when my father got home that day; he called me and asked me about the incident. I tried to lie. I tried to cover up senior T’s part but my father was smarter. He told me he wanted the truth and nothing but the truth. I had no option but to tell him everything. I told him about the belt and the pain. I told him my worst nightmares. My father stood there speechless and unable to move. He asked me for Senior T’s name and I gave him. He told me senior T was never ever gonna touch me again and I believed him. 

I resumed back to school on Sunday evening from my short break and I saw Senior T. Senior T was not happy with me. Senior T asked why I reported her to my father. I knelt down and explained to her that I never did. I said someone spilled the beans. She wanted to know the person but I was not one to divulge the secrecy of the ones I called friend. I told senior T someone did but surely not me. There was a tie that binds us. My father knows her mum and I think my father reported her to her mum. That sealed it for me. Senior T was charged with the responsibility of taking care of me and my life took an everlasting turn to freedom.

Senior T, I want to say it again that I love you. I know you know I do. Beyond unity, we have become sisters. I have moved past the hurt and pain. I have come to see that we were all on a learning field those years…I don’t abhor any hate towards you or toward anybody. I just think we should all bring back the days of glory…

With senior T presence in my life, things became easier and better. I had fewer errands to run and fewer chores to do. Senior T was an example of the Classy and Rich. She was among the reigning queens so I had all the backing of a powerful senior to do and undo. So my misdeeds started….

With senior T as my new school mother, I had everything going for me. It was another term and another opportunity to allocate juniors to new masters. I wanted to be with Senior T but fate threw me a big surprise. I was attached to another senior. Senior O became my new master. She was naturally a quiet person. You know the type of seniors that rarely makes trouble. She was meticulously meticulous. Senior O is melancholic in nature. She also comes across as someone who is too strict with her rules. Well, it’s not news that 99.9% of melancholies are perfectionist. She had rules she wanted me to live with and for me, it was just another comedy show. 

My new master also was a pepper-less student. She had ulcer (I got to know about that later). Getting her food was not much of a problem. Pepper-less people have their separate dinning table close to the kitchen. So I had all the freedom to escape from the drama that goes on in the dining hall. I would go to the dining hall for my food while I dropped off her plate at the pepper-less section so that I could pick it up later. 99% of the time, I had enjoyed grace. I rarely get to see her plate missing. Some angels are always making sure the big seniors don’t go away with the aluminum plates. 

Getting my own food was another problem. I would sit at my table at the extreme end of the over-populated dining room. Everybody will drop their plates on the table and wait for the server to serve the food. Each table has its own food and server. A member of the table is always the server for the table. I always believe those servers always ration the food according to our stature. If not, I wouldn’t be served tiny piece of fish every time. And for the not-so-good days, we always had to go back to our hostels without any food or any idea that food will come. All thanks to the senior boys who were always in the habit of stealing the pots of food. Tell me I pray thee, why would anybody steal such big pots of food? What kind of hunger would tempt a man to steal something that belongs to other innocent kids? Hmmn, things I will never get to understand.

I became a master at getting food for my senior. I did it with all diligence. At this point, I need to state that this diary will not be complete if I fail to accord the much deserved respect to Morohunkeji . That lady was the first human I saw with the ability to carry ten plates of food at the same time and still get food in all the ten plates. I have met Keji couples of times outside unity, we met in Abuja the other time I had an official appointment there and we spoke extensively about our past experiences. We are still friends till today and that is one friendship I cherish so much. I was part of Keji’s story just as much as she was part of mine. I can tell you emphatically that Keji suffered in Unity. This diary, my diary, is nothing compared to Keji’s diary. She was the person, whose shoes I prayed never to walk in.

(Lesson: In life, whatever you think you are going through, there are people going through worst situations.)

As the days rolled into weeks, my servant role became part of me and I could re-enact the scenes in my dream. I noticed over time that my master never thanked me for the little gestures I did for her. She acted like it was her right to have me do whatever she wanted. Every day, morning, afternoon and evening, I would strive to make sure I get her food even without an assurance of mine. I watched daily as my senior would take the food from my hand and devour it. Then she would hand over the empty plate to me to wash and keep for the next meal. While devouring her meal, she would then ask me why the pepper-less stew tasted sour or salty. She always had reasons to nag about the food surprisingly; she never dropped the food uneaten through it all. Isn’t that funny? Like seriously, someone asking me why the stew had too much salt? Did I prepare the stew? I would roll my eyes and pretend I never heard her rants. Then one particular day, I got tired of Senior O rants and I swore to deal with her. 

On the second day I took her plate as usual and made to the kitchen to get the pepper-less stew. This time around, I didn’t stop there. I got her food, took her plate to the main dining hall and added a little of the stew they served on my table. I was so happy with my actions and made my way to the hostel. At the hostel, I gave my master her food. She didn’t suspect any foul play. She took the food and ate it like nothing happened. I stood at a distance and watched her ate all the food. In less than 10minutes after she finished the food, she was in pain. Oh my God! What did I just do? What is happening to my master? At this point, my master was in terrible pain. She was rolling up and down the room. Everywhere was in disarray. She was in pain and tears. She was screaming and yelling at the same time. “What did you do to my food” she asked. I told her nothing.

The other seniors rallied round her. They were frantically trying to get milk shake for her then, someone propose mist mag. They were all trying to save a friend while still making out time to send a nasty sneer across my side. 

I stood transfixed. So my master had ulcer. I never knew. I just thought she wanted the pepper-less hype for selfish reasons but I was dead wrong. I watched as my actions brought pain to another. Her pain was not subsiding so they had to rush her to the health center. I watched everything played out and I felt bad for all the wrong I did to her. Senior O, I have not been opportune to see you after Unity. I have held this against myself for too long. It’s 22years already. I had the chance to chat with your kid bro here on Unisca page in 2014 and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. I ask for your forgiveness today. I pray you find a place in your heart to forgive me. Believe me sincerely, that wasn’t me *in Shaggy’s voice*.

Senior O couldn’t bring herself to send me food again after the incident. She restricted my servant role to getting her water. I did these judiciously for some weeks until I changed my mind again. We were moving close to the end of the term and senior O set were moving close to writing their final exams. I had already hatched my plan and waited for the appointed day. Slowly, the day came by. We were told to go home for break and by the time we would return, senior O set would have been done with their exams. That implied that, by the time we would be resuming back to school, senior O set would no longer be around. That was the greatest news of all time.

On the day I was to depart for home, senior O told me to help her get drinking water inside her blue 5litres keg. I obliged her without her premonition that I had my own sinister plan. It was at that time of the term that Garri was more precious than Gold. Having a little cup of Garri was like having the password to eternity. I knew my master was also hit with the Garri famine and I also knew that someone pitied her and gave her a cup of Garri that morning. I remembered how happy she was to have even gotten the Garri in the first place. Unknown to her, I was already hatching the plan that will turn her joy around for the worse. 

She told me to get her the water before leaving for my house. I took the keg, pretended as if I was going to get her the water. I took a short walk to the path leading to the classrooms. I got to the murky, dirty flood that was on the road. I bent down and scooped the dirty flood inside the keg. I didn’t spare the spirogyras too. I threw everything inside my master’s keg, covered it and gently placed it under her bed. I carried my back and left for my father’s house with a wish to never see my master again. I already acted out how she would react once she pours the murky water into her soul-saving Garri. You know as it’s the norms with our seniors, they naturally would not bother to check the type of water it is. They already had the mindset that it would be a good one because no junior would have the gut to tow a rebellious path in the real sense.

I got home, had fun, enjoyed my break and was enjoying the remaining break until my master showed up at my father’s house. Yes, my master came to my house. Well, not as a master but, as a friend to an aunt. Aunt Vic as she was normally called back then happened to be a family friend. She is also a Unisca Alumnus. She was in my room and I never knew she was a friend to my master. I strolled into our sitting room that fateful day, only to be greeted with the last faces I had never wanted to see. I paused for some seconds, tried to check if I was not dreaming then took some few steps forward. I greeted my master cautiously as I scanned from one end of the sitting room to another for any clue that could help me out of my misery.

I watched my father laughed on as he engaged the ladies in some discussion. I tried to make a sense of the whole scenario but no clue came up. As I made to turn back and exit the living ro, my master called my name. She said “Olamide, I want to have a word with you”. My heart skipped. What manner of fear is this? I couldn’t believe I was even still afraid of her in my own father’s house. Seriously, that shows I was in bondage. I turned to her and said “Ooh, okay” with this look that says “I care no more about what happens from here”, I believed she read through my facial appearance too because she never spoke to me afterwards like a master.

Both of us stepped outside the living room to the pavement. Once outside, she looked at me in the eyes and asked me the most painful question ever “Olamide, what did I ever do to you to deserve such cruelty?” “Olamide, why have you purpose in your heart to treat me like someone you wish dead?” “Olamide, why haven’t you come to me to tell me my sins?” and “Why have you ridiculed me in such a manner?” Hmmnnn…I am really speechless now just as I was 18years ago. Words failed me that day. I wanted to tell her she was never the target of my hatred, I wanted to tell her that I was just paying back the vow I had made against all my seniors, I wanted to tell her I really wished I never brought her so much pain. Unfortunately, I couldn’t even open my mouth to say a word. I took the last look at my master and the tears came trickling down my cheeks. I felt her hands on my shoulders. She reached toward me to cleanse my tears but she had tears too. My master cried. 

We both stood there for some seconds without saying a word. After what seems like eternity, I looked at her and sincerely told her I was sorry. We both hugged ourselves and moved beyond the hurts. She later told me that she poured the murky water into her Garri that night hoping to eat her last meal. There was no assurance of another Garri the second the day so she had hoped to make the best use of the one she had. As she made to take the first spoon, she saw the colour of the Garri. She pondered if she had mistakenly pour Bournvita into the Garri but the reality that she had no Bournvita made her stop the movement of her hand to her mouth. She then took the cup closer to a lantern and that was when she knew the havoc I had caused her. She went further to check the remaining water in the keg and she confirmed it was really flood water.

She told me she was at first full of hatred for me. She wanted so badly to see me and probably skin me alive. She pondered on what could make a young girl carry out such act. She approached my aunt (Victoria) and told her she wanted to follow her home to see me for something important. She said she thought about the whole drama throughout the night and by the time it was morning, she got another reason to see me. She felt I must have been going through a lot to decide such. She said she wanted to reach out to me to ask who could have hurt me to such extent. She wanted to see me to tell me that I should leave the revenge behind before it ruins me. She wanted so much to see me go back to the right track because she feared I could transfer the hate to another. 

She was right after-all. I was hurting and I had revenge at the back of my mind. I had carefully written out the names of all the seniors I wanted to pay back and how I was going to pay them back. However, her words that evening changed me. That was how the healing started. 

(Lesson: Not all men are the same. Some still have a little love left in them. Give people benefits of doubt. Most times, things are not always the way we perceive them)

After Senior O’s set left Unisca campus, I became a bit freer. You know, just as the seniors were exiting the campus, I was also moving up the senior ladder. I was no more in J.S.S 2. I had moved to J.S.S 3 so I was a bit used to the cruelty now. Apart from the normal tantrums here and there, life was beginning to look better. I could go to social nights and be comfortable to watch what goes on without the fear of any senior looking for me.

My first day at the social night was a horrible one. Sincerely, I had never in my wildest imagination thought that the smelling dinning-hall that has become a horror place to me could be turned to such a fantastic site to behold. Whoever the social prefects are, they did a wonderful job that is worthy of commendation. I walked in quietly to the dining hall that night, trying so much to cover my identity so that I wouldn’t send the wrong impression to the worldly students. Yes, I call them worldly or have you forgotten that I was part of the SU caucus and that was how we saw the others who were not part of the SU train. My senior SU’s told me not to go for social nights. They said it was a thing of the world. For Saturday nights, they shielded me and others from the seniors who were on the mission to make sure we all attend. They perfected the acts of shielding us under their beds or inside the wardrobes or toilets until the enforcers had all gone. They told me I was not meant to be there because Christ wouldn’t be there and I believed them. 

However, the news every Sunday morning from those who went was beginning to get to me. I wanted to see things for myself so that Saturday evening, I took a walk away from the norm. I carried my petite body to the Social nights to see things for myself. As I walked in, I saw boys at some dark corners with some girls. Holy Jesus! What is this? OMG! So my SU seniors were right after all. How could any girl allow a man to touch her like that? I tried to catch a glimpse at the seniors and their willing culprits. They were mostly the Lagos guys. I knew it. These Lagos guys are just good for nothing, handsome, rich, spoilt, fluent and classy peeps.

Oh! Did I just say handsome? Yes, I knew they were handsome at least compared to the Idanre, Ondo and Owo boys. This actually got me cracked up. The Idanre, Ondo and Owo boys are just something else. These ones tried so much to belong but everything worked against them right from their looks to their accents and finally their skin colours. May I ask you these if you are from Owo town. I noticed most of you guys are kinda fair-skin in a way that screams “bleaching”. Do you have a branch of TURA Soap Company in your town? Just kidding

Seeing the senior and junior students in that distasteful manner that night sent shivers down my spine. There were some regular fellowship sisters too that I saw with some boys at odd places. I walked up and down the whole auditorium like a FBI agent. I wanted to see things for myself and I saw enough to last me for a lifetime. Then it was the time to carry the “Devil’s Basket”. Did somebody just say devil’s basket? How can you be carrying anything that has devil in it? I saw how people picked up tiny papers from the basket as they were made to carry out the devilish instructions. Some instructions were simple while some were out rightly outrageous. 

Like the one where a lady was told to call any guy of her choice out and then go ahead to strip him of 10 clothing’s. How can you have 10 clothes on if you are not a YABA LEFT patient? How on earth is that possible? I watched as this lady started with the guy’s slip-on, the wrist-watch, the shirt, the singlet, the school short, the neck-chain and there was no more to take off from the poor boy except for his boxer. 

Everybody looked on. Some dared her to go ahead, some told her to stop. I watched as she smiled mischievously and I was baffled when the poor boy was also smiling along. See me see wahala o. Someone is stripping you off your decency and also contemplating on making you a semi madman (Isn’t it mad men that walk around naked?) and you are here smiling like a lost sheep. Some people just need JESUS. 

As a matter of truth, I concluded that night that every social night lover needs JESUS. I told myself my SU seniors were right after all. I need not go there anymore. I restricted my social night attendance to the days and times of OJOJOLU, BABABINTIN, OREBEKUMO and his three wives….

As the months rolled by, I started developing this sense of belonging in the hostel. It became easy for me to stroll over to the hostel without much worry in as much as I don’t pass through room 35 corridor. I had perfected the act of passing through the pathway that leads to room 37 from the kitchen. Once on the corridor of room 37, I would peep through the door to see if the room was bearable enough for me to go in. You just know there are some seniors you would see and you will take a 4X4 relay back to where you are coming from. Those seniors were the thunderous one. No matter how big your wings grow, these thunderous seniors have a way of cutting it.

I was beginning to enjoy the little freedom I had except for some relatively nasty errands. Unisca campus started turning habitable to me. Well, that was until the “Eja Poly – Poly Ado Fish” syndrome began. I just couldn’t fathom who brought the disease to Unity. I suspected that it was when some juniors walked down to Poly Ado in search of water. There is no gain saying that water was a scarce necessity in Unity. Some students went to Aba Egbira (Jewo Ese) to fetch water. Some went to Poly Ado for theirs. There were even rumours back then that some guys were urinating blood due to the unhealthy water they drank. 

The set of people that went to Poly Ado always came back with tantalizing, mouth-watering “Eja dindin” – delicious fried fish. The first thing they would do after getting to the hostel and dropping their buckets of water was to devour their “Eja dindin” along with a bowl of well-soaked Garri. It was a fantastic menu those days. The news spread round quickly and every afternoon became the time for “Eja-dindin” delicacy. Unfortunately, the trips to getting the “Eja-dindin” rested on the junior ones. Some seniors were so courteous to consider that the trip from Unity to Poly was not a short one so they would beg and plead before they send you on such Egyptian journey. Others didn’t even care about the distance of the journey. They would call you and command you to go get them Five Naira “Eja-dindin”. Room 38 seniors preferred the head of the “Oku-Eko” Fish to any other parts while some seniors (the posh ones) would tell you to get them the tail. 

Either head or tail, I had vowed that I would never accept to go on such errand. I told myself it makes no sense to walk almost 3Km along thick bush path and be susceptible to dangers ranging from kidnapping to rape and all sorts just because I want to get a Five Naira fish for a senior. I was lucky to escape the “Eja-dindin disease until one fateful day. 

I walked into the room in the afternoon to change my clothes and my immediate senior (you can imagine) called me to help her get Eja-dindin from Poly. What rubbish. What arrant nonsense. A whole me, Senior Olamide, to trek to Poly Ado just because someone who happened to be a year ahead of me wanted to eat Garri and fish. Haha that was the highest form of direct insult that came my way. I wanted to tell her I was not going on such crazy errand and also warn her not to call me for such again. Instead, I kept quiet, collected the money from her and took a casual stroll to Poly Ado to get the Fish.

On my way back from Poly Ado, I went straight to the principal’s house. I narrated the whole story to him and also mentioned the names of the seniors. I took the fish to the hostel, branched at a friend room, begged her for some Garri and I treated myself to a sumptuous plate of Garri and Fish. I ate the fish. I finished the food, cleaned my mouth and took another casual walk to my room to face the senior. 

Immediately I entered the room, she asked where have been and also inquired on why it took me so long to come back from my trip. I told her I never went in the first place. I told her the story of how the Principal caught me on my way to Poly and how he drove me back to the campus. I told her the principal already had her name and her money and he had promised to give it back to her on the assembly ground the next day.

There were fears everywhere. It was bad news I brought back and the most annoying thing to her was that she lost her money. She was angry. There was anger in her face. She ordered me to kneel down and I told her no way. I told her I was never ever going to kneel down for her. She was surprised. What effrontery. She charged at me to slap me but I dodged her. It was a funny scene to behold. There was no denying the fact that if we had engaged in a one-on-one fight, she would have beaten me like a kid. She was bigger than me and had this rascal attitude but I was not moved. I was ready for her. Almost immediately, her friends started saying things to arouse her anger. 

One of them, Folake, came towards me and slapped me across the face. I wanted to slap her back but others came to join her. I was beaten and humiliated by three of them. To me, it was just pure humiliation. One of them would have beaten me hands down without the support of the other two but for the three of them to beat me in such manner; I knew that was the new definition of low. Immediately they were done with me, I stood up, walked up to Folake and told her she was going to pay for everything she did to me. I told her if it takes me 50 years to pay her back, I will and I left the room.

I know you are a bit confused as to who I eventually grew up to be. You see, after all the troubles and cruelty I went through in my junior years, I became strong like the rock of Gibraltar. I had no fear. I had faced those seniors who were two years ahead of me without any fear so I wasn’t an inch moved by any form of cruelty anymore. 

I remembered the day I travelled home for the weekend and I had kept my 2litres of kerosene in my wardrobe. I made sure I had enough kerosene to take me for months so as to avoid insults and beatings. Unfortunately, I got back to school on Monday and someone spilled the news to me. I heard the seniors pulled my wardrobe, stole my kerosene to prepare Orus with it. I even heard they kept the kerosene with them until the Sunday night preceding my arrival back to school. I couldn’t believe the news. I quickly dashed to the hostel to confirm it.

I met the culprits sitting and laughing hysterically at some jokes in the room. From what I saw, they were nowhere near going to class and it was a Monday morning. They just sat there in the room laughing and gossiping. They had created a corner with two adjacent bunks and a cupboard to serve as a table in the middle. That was what a typical senior corner looked like and every wannabe senior kept one. I walked past them without even the faintest form of greetings from my end. I went straight to my wardrobe. The keys were locked and I wondered how they were able to take the kerosene away. I opened my wardrobe, picked up my kerosene container and I almost fainted. A whole 2litres of kerosene was gone. I was mad in my spirit. No, this must stop. This rubbish must stop.

I walked in annoyance to the center of the room and I threw my Christianity out of the window. I rained curses on all the souls that touched my kerosene container. It was a terrible day. It was a day I ended up disappointed in myself. I cursed them and spoke terrible things to their destinies. I was screamed and made a messy scene out of the whole situation. I noticed some juniors in room 37 stood and watched my drama from afar. I didn’t even bother to look the way of the culprits. I ignored them completely and even ignored their threats that I should stop. I was ready for them that day. After I was done with my drama, I dared any senior to wake me up in the middle of the night for kerosene. I dared all of them.

I told them the day any senior try to wake me up to go get kerosene, that is the day they will know there are plenty mad people in Unity. None of them could say a word. I just noticed that the second day as I came back from school, my kerosene got resurrected and returned to the position it was before. Need I mention that no senior woke me up to go look for kerosene throughout that term.

I saw Folake’s actions as an effrontery and I promised her she was going to pay back in a bigger way. The second day, Folake left unity. It was strange news to me. Unknowingly, Folake had sat for both GCE and JAMB in SS2. She passed majority of her papers and was already processing her admission into the Polytechnics then. Nobody knew. Well, no junior knew about the news until she finally left. After she left, everything became so clear to me. I now understood that Folake went hysterical on me because she knew she was leaving soon and she thought there was no way our path would cross again. I kept my part of the vow. I never forgave Folake. 

As fate would have it, my path crossed with Folake after I left unity. I had graduated and waiting for my result and there was this young guy who just got admitted to poly too. We were neighbors and so we talked about things and life. Most times, he stops over at our shop on the way to his house. He had told us about his new girlfriend and we couldn’t wait to see her. I must not forget to tell you that I had told every soul that were connected with me about Folake and how I had vowed to deal with her any day our path cross.

 
On this fateful day, Tunji stopped over at our shop as usual and he happily informed us that his much talked about girlfriend was in the car outside. As a sign of respect to Tunji, we went outside to probably see her and greet her. I was there, my two sisters, my friend and a brother. We got outside the shop, opened the car and who did I see? Your guess is as good as mine. Folake. I am sure she couldn’t believe her eyes as much as I couldn’t believe mine. Immediately I saw her, I went to the side of the car where she sat, dragged her out and landed a slap on her face. Did you just shake your head for me? Well, don’t bother to stress your neck. I know I need JESUS too but temperamentally, I am a choleric. I don’t make vows I will not fulfill. 

Everybody stood in awe. They were lost as to why I did that. I then told them, this is Folake the “slapper” – Folake Gbati Gbati. You guys need to see the drama that happened that day. My people almost skinned Folake alive. If not for the little respect we had for her boyfriend, she could have written the story of her life that day. She pleaded, he pleaded and they both pleaded. Did I say the cordial friendship between us and Tunji went with it but Folake’s relationship with Tunji also went with it. That day, I slept a happy woman and up till this very moment, I had no regret for my actions. I do not apologize for my actions to Folake and I hope if she is reading this piece, she will hopefully understand that “Igba o tan lo bi orere, aye o tan lo bi opa ibon - whatever goes around, comes around”.

The journey to SS2 was not a tedious one except for the childish ego displayed by our immediate seniors. I noticed that there was this rivalry between their sets and ours. It was glaring to everybody to see. I will be lying if I tell you I do not know the cause of the rivalry. The cause of the rivalry was simply the boys. The SS3 boys were “doing something” with the SS2 girls. There were relationships here and there. I guessed this didn’t go down well with some of the senior girls and they used the opportunity to vent their angers on us.

Naturally, one would expect that such anger should be passed to the appropriate set of people who enjoyed the love advances and people like me, who never had the opportunity to receive either verbal or formal “toasting” should be freed but I was wrong. It was a case of “ori yeye lo n mo ogun sugbon ta Ise lo ju”. All SS2 students on several occasions had to suffer for the sins of some few. At some point, it became a Saturday thing. Our immediate seniors became specialist at dishing out punishments for every worthy and unworthy misdeed just because awon kan n ba won du oko – some people are dragging husbands with them. (All of una wey dey drag husband with your seniors, you know yourselves o). Since I wasn’t part of the people dragging husbands with their seniors, I will not talk much on that. This is my diary so that one no concerns me. However, if you are part of the clique that brought the Saturday beating to us due to your fine fine pose with some boys, God is watching you through 3D o.

And…......I graduated to SS3…..Hmmnnn

New term began and we became the senior. I don’t know how to explain this feeling. There is no way I will explain this that you will probably get to understand it . The feeling of knowing that you are the overall senior is overwhelming. It’s a feeling of victory and I told myself I was going to enjoy every bit of it.

By this time, we were already selected to be the fellowship executives. Seriously, I didn’t want to accept the position. I just wanted to be free to do whatever I want without the constant reminder of what people would think. I wanted to be at the back, away from the front row and just act like the senior I had just become. However, with the fellowship thing, it was never going to be the same again. I know I had to preach, talk and cajole some juniors to attend fellowship and that would be hard if the juniors don’t see me as a nice person. I had to be nice because I want to bring people to Christ. Now, that didn’t jell with me. I just wanted to be ME and the fellowship was stopping me from doing that. I had to pretend to be another because of the fellowship umbrella. There is no dignity in bringing shame to the body of Christ through my attitude so I fell into the Christian lifestyle thing. Seriously speaking, that was not me. The real me that some people like Kunle and co were opportune to know was not the Olamide you all knew in SS3. I was living in denial of the real me. I was mentally different from the physical perception everybody had about me. 

We were eventually made prefects. I had thought our tenure was going to be hitch-free but we were wrong. You know, I just have to do this. (Shout-out to all the guys who made our tenure a terrible one) You guys gave us the bad name and ridiculed us to the maximum. You all know yourselves.

I want to officially inform you all that over the years in Unity, the boys never had the courage to walk freely into girl’s hostel. Those who managed to had to sneak in at odd hours except for some people who were on official assignments. As the years progressed, some boys started entering girl’s hostel in the evening under the cover of darkness but in my set, the boy practically slept in girls hostels.

It was terrible. It was so terrible that even terrible gave up on us. Let me give you some scenario, it was so terrible that while taking our baths in the morning, the boys will stroll in to our hostels and watch us take our bath. They would sit right there in front of us while we take our bath. The boys had no regard for us or for the position we held. Unity became a lawless place. It was so terrible that my mate, a boy met myself and Toyin while we were coming from the teachers quarters and accused us of looking at his shaking bum bum. While we were still trying to understand his accusations, he landed a slap on Toyin’s face. 

It was so terrible that whenever we were taking our bath, the guys will come around with camera’s to take our pictures so that they can blackmail us with it. It was so terrible that, even the principal was declared persona non grata in the school where he governed. 

It was so terrible that boys will bring their pails in the morning to girl’s hostels to send us water errands. We dare not go except we are ready to attend our own service of songs. The teachers were incapacitated; the principal and other administrative staffs were powerless. Everybody ran for their lives. Our boys went around with charms maltreating, RAPING, beating and almost killing people. Destinies were reshaped and hopes were dashed. I tell you today, for as many of you that raped back then, you need all of JESUS you can get. You were the cause of some people’s misfortune till this moment and you must seek JESUS fast.

The teachers also made my life unbearable. I couldn’t go to class for fear of the known; I couldn’t go to the dining hall because my mates have taken over so I took cover in my room. I absconded from classes and I became a regular rebel. My attendance at the fellowship went from poor to sad. Brethren were concerned for me. I was in turmoil. Aunty D, my teacher was making my life a living hell. She thought I was dating a particular Mr. B and she made sure I paid for her inability to get Mr. B attention. I was chased out of all her classes, she peddled rumors about me and my Christian faith, She dragged me to the principal more than twice on accusations that were baseless. I lived in fear and trepidation. I couldn’t read again. I lost all the zeal to face my future.

Outside, people saw me as the brilliant library prefect but inside, I was in confusion. I started growing afro, started wearing slippers everywhere, started applying little make-up and also refused to dress properly. A lot of people said I had departed from Christ. Some said I was on the way to destruction, my attendance at the fellowship dwindled terribly and I just became a different being. One of my class mates still said the same thing last week, he said “Olamide, at some point, you became worldly”. Well, the truth is, I was never worldly. I just became tired of the stereotypical life I was living. I was tired of the religion façade that never saved me from the vile of Aunty D. I was tired of trying to live my life to please people. I wanted to be me and I went on the journey to find me.

Before I could even realize it, WAEC came knocking. I wasn’t sure I could face it but I had no option. I told myself I had wasted 6 years of my life in a place I shouldn’t have been in the first place. I even heard some boys were planning to rape me to teach me a lesson because they felt was too proud and pompous. That was meant to happen on the Chemistry exam day. One of the teachers heard about it and told my father who came to pick me up from the exam venue that day. I was at home until the day I was to write my Yoruba paper. I came from home to write my last paper.

Yoruba was our last paper and the day was a shameful day for 99 sets. We were the only set that never had valedictory service. We were marched from the exam hall to the gate by some mean looking mobile policemen. The school had called on the military force to help them chase us out of school. We were not allowed to even bid our juniors goodbye. It was a sad day.

We bided ourselves goodbye as we faced our future. I went home to await the result of my WAEC exam. I was not expecting much except for some miracle. The result came out as we all expected except for some surprises here and there. I heard that NOBODY in our set had up to six papers. I had five (Yoruba, Agric, Economics, Geography and Biology). Of course you will agree with me that I was on my way to becoming a medical doctor with my result. I had to start all over again. I practically wasted six years of my life at unity. I had moved past the feeling now. I am better and brighter. I eventually became an engineer but sincerely, I added activism to it. That was the only thing I gained from Unity.

Thanks to everybody who read my diary. There were some I left out. Fellowships stories were evidently removed because I wouldn’t want to drag the name of the Lord in the mud. (but all of una fellowship brethren meeting inside inner rooms know yourselves o. I no go talk more than that). Just wonder why none of you ever had crush on me or even saw vision about me that could warrant my coming over to the inner room too. God dey watch all of una through 3D.