Grimacing

Second page

It was like every other monday morning the only difference was my sore buttocks, and the rumors that went around school; of my parents catching Bella and I kissing, a story that was quiet not so accurate became the school's anthem and I couldn't defend myself, my sore buttocks were the proof. There were a lot of side talks that morning and loud laughters as I walked passed the crowd, lots of condemnation and mockery from everyone except one. His name was Femi he was my sit mate and one hell of a smart kid his grades were perfect A(s) and so like every parent anywhere in the world would do, my parents insisted that we became friends... You see in my part of the world at that time, when you were the smartest in class, you were considered to be like some demigod or something, you were revered by your classmates, even the bullies respected you because you were the solution to most of their problems within the four walls of the classroom, and the teachers made you their favourite because to them you were one who had the brightest feature, the one who would eventually graduate from the University and become a n engineer or a doctor making so much money and living happily ever after.

and after school hours my dad with his Peugeot 404 was so glad to help the mother of the genius Femi, who was a busy single mother with school run, Femi was her only child and so got so much attention from her, they had a beautiful relationship one I wished I had with both my parents; Now that's not to say that my relationship with them was awful, no ! It's just that Femi and his mum had something remarkably beautiful, they could talk for hours like they were friends... I guess that was why he behaved so maturely when he found himself amongst his peers, I admired many things about him, but the one I admired most was how neat he was, his pair of white socks and toques check shirt and pair of shorts, which was the colour of our school uniform stayed the same way impeccably neat from morning till it was time to go home, like he was literally stain proof... We always wondered how he made this possible, because to us staying neat all day was a herculean task but to him it was simply graceful, Femi was my role model when it came to being clean but I must confess, I just couldn't keep up with him, the standard was way beyond me... And as for his Grades, let's just say I was mostly a positions behind him, as I too was mr smarty pants... But all smart hats including mine duff for the genius called Femi.

Our class was filled with so many intelligent students, it made our average be the best results in other classes.

And it wasn't like we were just book smart alone, we were street smart also. Our class had a reputation of coming up with some fresh skims everyday to get launch money out of the hands of other children from other classes, we could create propagandas that could send the whole school into panic and discombobulation, one day we had written a well composed letter with the letter headed paper of the federal ministry of education which one of our classmate had stolen from his mother’s office; she was working with the above mentioned ministry at that time, we had written on it that the military governor was going to be visiting a number of school for an impromptu inspection, and that ours was going to be on the list, we also made it clear that the inspection was going to last for one week… we did this just to see our headmistress panic her soul out and become attentive to her duties and including that of some lazy unskilled teachers, and not forgetting the poor sanitary condition of the school, that week it was fun to see her come early to school, strictly monitor the teachers teach, it was also good to easily walk into a clean toilet to do your business when needed without the need of wearing a gas mask.

Well when after a long wait and hard work the presence of the governor was no were to be seen, the school carried on dusting it off their shoulders that it was another of the government’s white elephant projects, because at that time government really didn’t care so much about the falling state of education, all they cared for was power… that week we had our shares of laughter and fun, but today the joke was on me

“So what really happened?” Femi asked.

It is nothing like they are saying, I replied

Femi smiled... “I know”, he said. That's why I asked you the question, he added with a tone of voice so calm it felt like he could already see the answer from my now readable heart, which made me ease myself to answering with the absolute truth. I poured out my heart to Femi that day, every inch of it, and to my amazement this little boy who was only months older than me took it so well, with out a laugh for ridicule or chants for mockery .

My day in school after talking with Femi would go down as one that I would remember to this very day and it wasn't because of his calm response and mature mind alone, but also about what happened next.

So the time keeper had joyfully as always rang the bell for the close of the day at school. And as usual the excitement always followed with pupils screaming at the top of their lungs in rejoicing, others jubilating as they carelessly arranged their books in their bags you could almost touch the excitement with the tip of your fingers in the air, it was like we had been freed from prison, it made some of our teachers wonder if we hated school that much, or if they were the ones we hated, well whatever their thoughts were, we were just glad to be going home

And today as usual, going home we did, me sitting behind in my father's Peugeot along with Femi, and today unlike many days before Femi's mother sitting on the passengers seat, I wasn't quite in the know why she had to accompany us that day, but to Femi it was indeed a joyful moment.

My dad never asked the usual questions parents would naturally ask their children questions like "did you get all your sums right today?" Or "did you enjoy your school today?" No!, he was a little weird with his questions, some of his questions were "which of the bullies did you beat up today?" Or "" and these questions weren't for fun, he meant them at least for today. Maybe he was a little frustrated with something, well now that I am grown up I could tell it was the society, see we really felt oppressed by the time, the men in uniforms had some how put us in their shackles and the only thing that could be done was gnash your teeth in the silence of your mute raging anger, and my father like every other angered grown Nigerian man wasn't different. That day going back home in his car he told me something "son never stay bullied for long, it is okay for you to be bullied once but when the second time comes fight back" the words had barely left his tongue when we approached a check point of soldiers in their uniforms with rifles in their hands, well check points in the cities of Nigeria has never been a surprising sight to behold, these men in iniforms had it almost everywhere, and it was never about keeping the security it was absolutely about bribe. "Oga make I see your particulars" requested one of the fierce looking soldiers, you could see the anger beaming out of my fathers eyes as he with a little hesitation reached for the glove compartment of his car, opens it and gets the papers of the car out, and then hands them over to the soldier. "Mr man this one na photocopy, I need your original papers" said the soldier in an aggressive tone. "I don't have the originals here with me" my father replied as calm as he could be. The scene gradually started heating up when the soldier replied "so you want to make this work hard for yourself abi"... Seeing the situation was almost getting out of hand, Femi's mum in a subtle manner tried to interfere "please officer, just help us, we just went to pick our children from school " she said softly. "So I don't have children too, you think I don't have a family?" Replied the soldier... Now my father's temper had started to flair " officer what do you want from me at this point?" He said, in a not so calm tone anymore. " are you talking to me like that? Are you talking to the law like that? Get down from your car... Get down!" The soldier aggressively commanded with a tone so loud he could make a duet with the thunders, his hands corking his gun pointing it to my dad.... Now the fear had started, it became real to us all in the car, the tears and screams from Femi and I became so loud and uncontrolled... That it drew the attention of the other officers standing by... "Wetin de happen for dia? " one of the soldiers asked as he walked closer to the scene, my father stepping out of his car with his hands in the air, the over zealous soldier still pointing his gun at him as if ready to fire. "No mind this bloody civilian... I tell am to give me original papers... E con de talk any how" his hand still holding his gun up to my father's chest "so you are trying to be stubborn abi ? " the accent of this soldier who just walked in gave him out quickly as a Yoruba man... Is prompted Femi's mum to quickly start a conversation with him gently in Yoruba... She jumped into the language just as she qucickly jumped out of the car, with the palm of her hands rubbing each other as she pleaded for mercy from the soldier whom she had now identified as a Yoruba man... They both converse in the dialect, I really couldn't tell what they were saying because I couldn't speak and didn't understand the language but I could interpret from the gestures... She was begging and he was refusing to yield, my good friend Femi and I jumping up and down in the car crying calling out the words "mummy" "daddy"...."hey the two of una shut up dia for inside that car" the third soldier yelling at us, those words provoked my father so deep, he could bare being humiliated but not his son, now the rebellious side of him started to show "this is oppression, absolute oppression!... " my father yells at the top of his voice, calling the attention of passersby and motorist who simply slowed down and did nothing but to look and drive quietly away... "Mr man shut up! I said shut up!" Aggressively exclaimed the man who had been speaking in Yoruba with Femi's mum. "I will not shut up... I know my rights" replied my dad courageously. "Your right sir is to die here" said the soldier with the gun to my father's chest ... And in the spur of the moment, the heavy pandemonium of aggressive words and panicked pleading form Femi's mum was the sound of a gun shot... All I can remember was my father docking as the deafening sound of the gun enveloped my ears. A petrified me stands in total shock, what I heard next was a loud scream from Femi's mum.... "My son... My son... they have killed my son... They have killed my only child" I watched here run all the way into the car to pick up her now bleeding dying son, there can be no poetry or litany of words to describe the agony of pain a mother goes through holding the blood stained body of her own son... I watched her cry out her life as I watched my once upon a time friend die so quickly as the blood gushing out of huis opened heart drained away his life... The soldiers open more fire in the air as they jettisoned away like mad dogs in their pickup truck, my father rushes in to he car to assist not before fully examining me to see if I was okay.... I didn't cry that day... I didn't say a word that day... I was in total shock. This was the first time I would witness death, this was the first time I would see a life go as fast as the sound of a gun.