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.
