Wednesday, 14 December 2016
PAINS OF A GROWN MAN
"Dear me, I want to grow to achieve a whole lot. I have just begun another phase of life and I have less than six years to choose the ending. Either with success or otherwise. I am really enjoying this phase of my life. Less troubles. I mean I am no longer at home running errands. I am not cruel for being happy but at least it would make my legs grow thinner so I can be tall enough".
I sat dumbfounded with smiles partly as I reminisced about the letter.
This was the letter I wrote several years ago on gaining admission to junior secondary school. The experience was magnificent. Well that was good enough to have thought as I was still a newbie and having spent less than three weeks, I believe I am justified for writing that. Then, the whole boarding life stories I have heard never happened and I assumed everything was superstitions to scare the feeble like me. I remember the first time I was called by a senior in my dormitory and was sent on an errand, I was happy and fulfilled doing it. Probably he was too tired to go outside because the journey to the gate is so discouraging you would almost feel like your bed space should be situated there.
I came back and gave to him what he had sent me. On turning my back, I heard a sound like a whistle and "hey" accompanied.
"Go and get me fifty naira sugar with a hundred naira cassava flour. And when returning, stop at mummy Jessica to buy sachet water". That baritone voice would never make me doubt or think twice of giving a No as an answer or say "I was just returning from there please send another". Besides, the joy was still there burning very eloquently.
I got to mummy Jessica's and there I remembered I didn't ask how much sachet water I needed to buy. I assumed with that amount of cassava flour and sugar, he would need enough water. So I used the balance to get sachet water. Jogging made it easier for me to reach the hostel faster. I cheated the sun and never really felt any rise in temperature. I got to his bed space and didn't meet him there. Ordinarily, I knew I would wait to avoid telling stories that will tickle the nose. Ten minutes gone and the clouds are gathering. I looked outside the window and it was getting darker. I quickly dropped the contents in my hands and rushed outside to the cloth line. Everyone was panicking and so was I.
"Who took my panties?" I heard that from the girls' hostel blocks away. I laughed and wondered if the person was conscious of what she uttered out.
"All she need to do is to ask people now. Probably a sister's keeper had helped her". I thought out loud. In minutes, I was left alone and I could see my remaining clothes on the line. But something was very odd. I remembered I had spread my sport wears; both pairs. Also with my three pairs of uniform and five pairs of socks. I had each uniform for a day alongside my socks.
I stood there for minutes trying to figure out what happened. My two shorts were missing and a pair of socks. I couldn't unravel what exactly to do. It was then I remembered the cry of the agonized lady from the female hostel. Then I began to laugh uncontrollably. Everything happened within a flash and it looked like I was just alone in the world. I laughed continuously not minding the bitter clouds that had formed and was ready to bless the grounds.
"But how do I go about this?" I thought after gaining momentum of myself. I searched my bag to be sure maybe I had loss of memory for that time. "I washed it this morning" was the new anthem on my lips. I kept on staring and looking at the people entering and moving out. Those with clothes, I stopped them to ask and search too. But it happened no one was with it. I sat on my bed looking into thin space wondering what next to do. I know for sure I can't tell my Uncle's wife. But of my Uncle; I can. But before he gives me, he would scold and tell my mum. So that option was left out.
I sat helplessly with my hands behind me on the bed like that of a tent support. My head bowed and I felt a tap on my shoulder.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.