Death Row Holiday

As a High school student we all looked forward to the break between July and September, the special break where we get to visit friends, family, and well-wishers. And for some reason, once that break was over we always had this healthy glow around us. Some students would get so chubby they could pass off as Sumo wrestlers. It was also around this time you got new uniforms, cool gadgets and toys and lots of foreign friends (if you're fortunate enough to travel out or use the computer at that time). Every child around my age looked forward to this holiday. During the mid term, all students spoke of the fun things and mayhem they would cause during the long break.

All students except myself; I hated the long break!

You see, I've always been the child who preferred school work to play. You can imagine the torment I faced every long break. For some reason, my mother thought 'forcing' me to go play with my peers during the break was a fun thing to do. Woman! I would rather be sitting cross legged on a sofa with a ton of good books than go out with a million friends. The long break was holiday was always the most miserable time of my life.

I learned to cope. I used the time to work on my culinary skills, at least then I got to read the cookbooks I found around the house. Growing up, I had a lot of bad long break experiences but I can say for a fact what you are about to read is the worst of them all. 

You know how you can sense danger from miles away? Same thing happened Immediately I stepped into the house on that fateful day; 17th of July 2009. My other siblings were not back from school yet to bear some of the brunts of the scolding we were sure to receive during that holiday. They were off on my school's legendary senior year excursion.

On getting home, my father let me unpack and settled in just fine. I had my rest, reached out to friends in the neighborhood, planned an activity to-do-list and even helped my mother with chores. I was so excited to be home, who would have thought that was the calm before the storm. By late evening, sometime around 6 or 7 pm, we had dinner. After dinner, I went into my room to read. my back had not touched the duvet when my father called for me. From the stern tone in his voice I knew that yawa had gassed. I had no idea what I had done wrong but I knew something was definitely wrong. I made my way slowly to the parlor where he sat.  I was trembling and quaking already. at this point, I wished I was back at school. No senior could instill the fear my father had the power to instill in me. When I got to where he sat, He had a toothpick in his hands and he was carefully picking out meat from between his teeth.

"Emmmm Sir, You called for me," I prompted. After few minutes of acting like he had not noticed my presence, He looked up at me and with the sternest voice he could muster, he said; "Go and get your schools' Newsletter, I want you to read it for me,".

Read for him? Who was I to read for an English Professor? This man wants to end my career sha. I was so scared it took me a while to encourage myself. this was my father after all, he coaches me in English all day everyday. The A's I made in all my English exams in the past were surely not in vain. I can do this, I kept chanting to myself as I made my way back to him with the newsletter.

When I returned, he gestured absent mindedly to a spot in front of him. Stand there, he said. I stood with my shoulders raised, eyes straight ahead and legs spread apart; just as he had cautioned me to in the past. I can proudly say even the best orators had nothing on me at that moment. I read like a professional broadcaster, feeling all Elizabethan. My head was gathering momentum and if I had finished without a hitch, My head might just come apart with pride. But this was not to be, once I got to a certain part of the newsletter, the storm I hinted on earlier came in all its glory. Knowing what I know now, I should have just pulled my famous frog voice stunt or even feigned a headache.

Me: (reading from the newsletter) Students are fond of not reading during prep.

Dad: (cuts in) Yes! That is what you do here at home when I tell you to read. You love to sleep! You go to school and sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep every time!

Say what?! Was my father really personalizing a school incident?

Me: (Note to self) This is not a good day. (Throwing a mini tantrum) But Daddy, this is not...

Dad: Will you shut up! Keep reading before I descend on you.

Me: (nervously reading from the newsletter) Students are fond of leaving the school premises without permission.

Dad: Gbam! So you don't stay in school. You go out every time. That reminds me, the other day a friend told me he saw Your brother outside school. I'll handle that once I'm done with you. I'll tell your guardian to keep closer tabs on you. Finish reading, you wayward child!

Me: (now almost at tears) Some students insulted a teacher, this behavior is frowned upon, thus severe punishment was meted out to serve as a deterrent to other students.
Dad: Imagine this child I spend my hard earned funds on! So you go to school just to insult your teachers. I am not surprised because that's what you do here. When I talk one you talk two. Issokay! (Staring at me like I had grown a second head) Why are you crying?! Will you keep on reading young woman!

By this time I couldn't help it, tears were pouring down my cheeks. I was in for it. Hotter than fire, that's how my end will come. My only request is that you my friends say sweet and kind words at my funeral. 

Me: (reading amidst tears) It's been noted that some students do not go to the dining Hall, they skip dinner preferring to spend money on snacks.

Dad: I see, so you don't go to the dining hall. No wonder you keep asking for snacks. Eat good food, no!  snacks snacks snacks! I know why, it is because you have too much money. When I tell your mother N500 is enough pocket money, she will argue in your defense. In my time! N20 naira was all I spent for a whole session, a whole school session. Now you ask for N15,000, now I see why. In fact, from this moment I am cutting down your pocket money. You will take back even less provisions and snacks this coming school session. Maybe then you will place value on things.

That was the last straw. not only was I punished for a crime I had no part in, everything I that kept me sane at school was about to be taken away from me. I could not help but weep, weep for a just trial I never had, Now I was being led to the firing squad. In one final attempt to salvage the situation, I made a move. I decided to try what should never be done in any Nigerian home, Especially while you are facing such an intense firing squad. I decided to explain myself.

Me: (weeping bitterly) Daddy the letter is not about me. (Pointing at the publication) this is not me, it's a general report concerning all the students in school. Daddy, it's not a personal letter oh. Have mercy. 

Dad: So aren't you a student? are you not part of the general student body? Are you saying that letter does not describe you?  I see it now, this is how you go to school and argue with your teachers? In fact, kneel down there let your mother come and see you. (Shouting back at the house) Nne! Come and see your child. Bring my koboko on your way out. (Speaking directly at me) by the time I am done with you, you will be healed of all evil spirits that plague you.

To answer your questions, I did not go back to school a Sumo wrestler. I went back even slimmer than I was the previous term, you might ask why but that is tori for another day. Was I delivered? I was and till this very day I am. Did I learn any valuable lesson? Always explain how unrelated you are to an incident before showing it to Nigerian Parents.

Have a nice day lovelies!!

Photocredit: Unsplash