CHAPTER ONE
I got myself spanked a few times, but looking back now I realize I must have gotten away with a lot since I got into trouble every other day when I was younger. I cannot recall having any birthday celebrations, but precious pictures kept by my mother showed a few “come-snap-come-chop” that held on my behalf as I grew up. I don’t know when I became a teenager or when I turned 13. I just waltzed into it.
I was suddenly growing taller. My clothes didn’t fit anymore. The luxury of hand-me- downs was lost, because; between my only elder brother and myself were four sisters. I was almost a loner at home though I had two younger brothers, who fought more than they pallied, they were a team without me. My best friend at that point became a rugged bicycle my father bought a few years after I was born.
The Bicycle
For those who have junkyards, your folks may have old items and among them you could find a certain antique bicycle with the brand name Raleigh. Back then, it was a symbol of affluence among the inhabitants as only a handful owned cars and television. This setting was Abraka, a little suburb tucked away between the Agbor/Sapele axis on one side, and the Ethiope River on the other. Business boomed only when students of the College of Education were in session. There was a lull during the holidays, and that was when we foraged the forests behind the expressway in search of firewood and rare fruits/berries. Some of us even had the skill to rig traps to catch wild animals.
My mother was a restaurateur and catered mostly to students. We got up every morning at 5 just as my mother, who’d been awake at least an hour before, concluded her morning prayers and sprinkled holy water on us while we slept. As the more senior siblings (the girls) joined her in the kitchen, the rest of us picked up buckets and cans to fetch water from the river. To do this, we had to jump the low fence into the college. Note, this was easier for the boys – and a few daring girls. With sleep still lurking in our eyes, we trudged towards the river and back a couple of times before we prepared for school. This was not easy on any of us, as we were often tired and dozed in between classes. The business of fetching water was not the best way for us to start the day. Until I learned to ride the bicycle.
My father was a trader who traversed the north and south about five times every year. So, while he was away on a particular trip I pulled out the bicycle from under a pile of junk. It had seen better days. With the tires and tubes torn and dangling outside the wheels, I rolled it to a repairer who happened to be from my town. I pleaded with him to help me fix it, and promised I would pay him over a period of time. I’m not sure he bought that, but he definitely agreed that a working bicycle would ease our morning chores and help fetch more firewood from the bush during the holidays. Once I got the ride back, chores became fun for me. I choose errands like I was being paid. Riding the bicycle became a thing of joy, and it made everyone’s job easier. I fetched all the water in record time and ran to the local market to buy anything in a flash. My mother was happy, my siblings were sleeping more, and I was the happiest. My reward was the command of steel under my feet and the wind in my face!
Then one Saturday, I was sent to the local market to pick up meat from Eddy, my mother’s regular supplier. I got there within minutes, but they were not through sharing the parts and he asked me to wait. Ten minutes later, they were still at it. So, I excused myself and told Eddy I would be back in thirty minutes. I rode into the campus (Campus One), to see some of my friends. Parking the bicycle behind a tall flower hedge, I entered their house and met them playing ludo. Later, someone brought over some Indian movies, and we sat through the first three hours. When it ended, another one was slotted in. Then it was time to raid the mangoes in the backyard. I was the best climber then, and was up on the tree swiftly. All the while, I completely forgot about my errand. I was totally engrossed. It was only when I sighted a boy riding my bicycle away from where I parked it that I realized what I’d done.
Quickly, I jumped down and retrieved my ride. I rode fast to the market only to be told by Eddy that my mother had sent someone else to pick up the meat. And the person had left hours ago. Where was I? I did not answer him, but took off home. As I neared home, in sight of the house, I slowed down and stopped. I began to roll the bicycle and stopped three houses before ours. One of my elder sisters saw me and gave me a sign that said “You are dead”. All my good deeds would be rubbished by this singular act of foolishness. What was it about us – teenagers, which made us so self-centered, caring only about our follies?
Two weeks later, after making a firm promise not to act that way again, I took the bicycle out on errands. After the first couple of successful errands, I decided that I deserved a stroll with the ride to a friend’s place inside the main campus. Once again, it was games and movies. I guess I learn hard. But we were playing choosing, and I was the backbone of my team. We kept winning till the sun went down and night descended on us. I was in more trouble this time. My father was in town. And he spared no rod…
I had to think fast!
Quickly, I took the bike and rode along the row of Boys’ Quarters by the fence till I passed the last one. I got to an intersection, where a few metres away stood the generator that served the whole school. I looked around for a place to hide the bike. The bushes were not high enough, and I could not venture into the swamp that shored the river. I was about to give up and go home to face my father’s wrath when I noticed that the gutters by the junction was deep. I placed the bike in it and secured it to see that it did not move. Some grasses around the ledge hid it from view and I ran home feeling satisfied.
When I got home, I boldly walked to where my father sat. He was stunned by my absolute lack of fear about where I’d been in the past nine hours. I was breathing hard, and when my mother saw me, she brought me some water. I took a few gulps and almost choked. Moments later, I was still breathing hard, but my folks waited. I used to stutter as a teenager, so their patience was automatic. When I finally was ready to speak, I lied.
I lied to save my neck. And it was stupendous.
The lie was that the bike was stolen from where I parked and locked it. And I had been searching the whole campus for it ever since!
My father eyed me, but said nothing. Did he believe me? My mother was off to get me food; my older siblings just hissed and went about their chores while my younger brothers marveled at my travails, half-wishing they were involved in my adventure. They wanted to hear more, but I was too relieved that the energy to pursue the lie faded.
I was just settling in to enjoy my respite when I heard my cousin, Fidelis scream. I ran out to see him grab a boy riding the bicycle. The boy fell down, a bag he had on the carrier behind dropped and displayed its contents. It was food. That was fast! I thought. How did the boy find the bicycle? But it was when we gathered around the fallen boy and the bicycle that I realized it was not my bicycle. Now we had to find a way to pay for the food. My parents were not at home, and my elder sisters were observing their siestas and could not be bothered.
The boy picked himself up, said nothing to our apologies, and rode away leaving the food on the sand. I was silent. Fidelis was raving about the martial arts dive he used to floor the boy. I was thinking fast. Shouldn’t I just go and get the bicycle now? Shouldn’t I just confide in my cousin? If he can stick his neck out like this, he surely can be brought into confidence. I decided to wait a little while, let his adrenalin flow subside. Didn’t want to burst his bubble.
Then the knock at the door!
It was the boy, in company of his father. I’m sure you think it was not a big matter, since there was no visible injury to his son, and we were really sorry about the food. Think again. The man was a native doctor! One of the high priests of the local shrine Oneru.
He inquired about my parents and was told they were not home. He was not upset about the food. He understood my cousin’s action, and even made a joke about it. But what he planned to do knocked life out of me. He said he was going to find out the culprit – the one who stole the bicycle. He promised that if it was not returned by the end of that day, ‘whoever stole it will regret that action the rest of his life!
Minutes after he left, I was still dazed. Then I began to feel numbness in my right arm, my head throbbed. Oh no! Was it happening already? I thought of the football games, the numerous swimming contests lined up with my friends, school… I had to own up. It was time to confess. And it was very shameful.
Chapter Two
THE BAIT WRIGGLED BETWEEN MY FINGERS as I struggled to push it into the hook, and it fell on the mud. Quickly, I dug my fingers into the mud for the umpteenth time. Igho and Ochuko laughed at me. I looked at their plates. Already, they had caught several tiny fish. Mine was empty, save for a tiny fingerling, barely a few hours old. We’d been out there, by the river for more than 2 hours. I sorted through the mush seeking live bait, but the worms seemed to have migrated. Dropping the hook and line, I knelt on both knees, and with both hands rummaged through, not minding the danger of being stung or bitten by a reptile. My friends were still laughing but I was not upset. The more they laughed; the better determined I was at finding bait. Just as my fingers closed around two live worms, they stopped laughing. Aha! I turned around to show them but stopped in shock. Right there, staring at me with the loveliest eyes I ever saw was Gertrude.
I was in the middle of a victory howl, so my mouth hung open. It was so embarrassing and I silently vowed to make my friends pay for not warning me. She just looked on for a while and said, “Good luck,” then she left. I shamefully looked down at my stained knees and mud-covered hands. This was not the way I expected her to see me. We were in elementary school, but my internal juices were active enough to tell me that I had a crush on Gertrude.
My First Crush
I was 9 years old, top of my class but very shy. This led a lot of people to believe wrongly, that I was a quiet boy. They should have seen me during recess, running the length of the field and climbing the most difficult and tallest trees. My huge ears made me a laughing stock, but compensation came during tests and examinations. Those were usually my time - to laugh.One day in class, we were writing a test. The teacher, Mrs. Arubayi was busy writing out the questions on the board; we tore out sheets and put down our particulars. She had her usual flask of food waiting on her table. The normal practice with her is to keep us occupied with some assignment or test while she tantalized our senses with her food, undisturbed and alone. But today was not going to be easy for her in anyway. This was because I was answering the questions as she was putting them on the board. So, the moment she dropped her chalk and sought water to wash her hands and pounce on her food, I strode annoyingly to her table, with this wry, nerdy smile, turning in my paper.
“What is the problem? You can’t spell your name?” she asked mockingly. A few snickers came from the usual detractors. I told her I had finished answering the questions she wrote on the board. My classmates in front heard me, and I heard a few sharp in-takes of breath. I turned and caught some glaring at me. They probably had not even finished writing their names, but I was done. The teacher must be proud of me, I thought, still holding my test paper.
“Go back to your seat,” she told me. I stood in shock and watched her get back up, walk to the board and swiftly wiped it clean with a duster. “No test today again.” Without another word, she grabbed her books, lifted her flask and she was gone.
“Know-know.” “ITK!” Some of the names were hurtful. A few actually threatened to hit me, but Ojo and Eniru, two of the strongest boys in class came to my rescue. “Leave him alone. Is it his fault that he is intelligent?” They were taking sides with me because I saved them the embarrassment of scoring odo in the test. Zero! As they escorted me back to my seat, I caught the eyes of some girls staring at me. I was not interested in any but Gertrude. She was smiling, not condemning me.
When school dismissed that day, I left quietly but happily. Gertrude’s smiling face consoled me. I thought about her the rest of the day and the next as we went fishing. That was until she caught me in the mud with two live worms in my dirtied hands.
When she left, I shook off some measure of the embarrassment and continued fishing. My friends were in high chatter but I remained silent. I only threw my line into the river and held it, not expecting to catch anything but to see out the remainder of this woeful day. My eyes scanned the whole place until I sighted her sitting with her sisters. Every now and then, she would turn and stare at me. Quickly, I would look away, and feign concentration on my attempt to catch my first real fish.
Then suddenly I felt a tug at my line and looked down to see a huge fish, larger than my palm caught in my hook. It tried to pull away strongly, but the more it struggled the better it got caught. I sprang up and gave a whooping sound. My friends turned and saw what was happening.
“Pato, this one big o,” Ochuko said. I ignored him and started pulling the fish out of the water. It was the biggest catch of the day. Some people gathered to cheer and congratulate me. I was beaming and shy. As the fish danced its last on my plate, I decided I was done for the day. Let my friends play catch-up. “You no wan fish again?” Igho asked. I shook my head and picked up the fish I had caught. “Where you dey go?” he asked again. I did not say a word and marched on. I heard them drop their lines and follow me.
Gertrude and her sisters were in the middle of a joke when I got there. She stood up shyly and I offered her the fish. “For you,” I said. She took it and said nothing. I bet she was dumbfounded. Then she leaned over and gave me a peck on my cheek. That did it for me! I took off with my friends at my heels. They caught up with me under a tree. I was out of breath but smiling. The gutter where I had hidden the bicycle months before was only a few metres away.
“Na wa for you o,” Ochuko accused me. “See ah you jus carry di ho fish gyam. Dem tell you say dem no ge’ fish for dia house? Which one we go take drink garri na?” If I heard what he said, I was not paying attention. I just turned around and said, “Abeg, ma’a go house.” And I left.
Monday could not come any slower. Gertrude gave me cookies she baked herself. They had too much sugar and some were burnt, but I liked them all the same. Sometimes, she let me share her lunch with her and we were fast becoming an item. That was until one day, several weeks later, when a classmate and friend of mine Ambrose, brought me some hot gist.
Those days in Abraka, all the easterners from all walks of life had an umbrella association. So, kids of traders and businessmen like me related with those of lecturers and prominent personalities. Ambrose was a nephew to one of the lecturers from the east. He was stubborn, had a big strong head and dry leather for skin. He always got into trouble and was flogged as many times as most boys in the class combined. But no matter how hard or how long you flogged him, Ambrose never cried. Beside Gertrude, there was another girl, Amovbille also from Ghana, whose parents were neighbours to Ambrose, so he usually had gist about her and other lecturers’ kids in my school.
Not that I liked gossip but the first time we talked, he said he had sneaked into Amovbille’s room and hid under the bed. Gertrude was visiting and he heard their conversation. He told me that Gertrude said she liked me a lot. Amovbille did not like the size of my head, but her friend did not mind and pointed out that mine was not as big as Ambrose’s. I immediately disliked Amovbille. I avoided her in class, and once when I was eating with Gertrude, she came there and I stomped out without a word. Ambrose continued to feed me stories about her. They were not pretty but I liked to hear them.
He told me they were doing it? How was that possible? We were barely ten. He told me how he was under the bed again another day when he was seized by a cough. He could not hold it and let it go. Amovbille screamed but there was no one at home. When she saw it was him, she relaxed and asked him what he was doing under her bed. According to him, one thing led to another and they did it! Why was he telling me all this? He said it was going on for some time and no one was complaining. I dismissed him and walked away. But that was not the end of it.
The next day in school, I was called out during the morning assembly and asked to kneel down beside Ambrose. The rest of us were asked to go back to their classes. Gertrude was nowhere around, neither was Amovbille. The teacher we feared most, more than the headmaster was Mr. Sunday. He took us Arithmetic and sometimes Social Studies but I swore he enjoyed flogging better. When we saw him approach with about four long canes in hand, I broke down and started crying. Ambrose was smiling. They were regular combatants. What was my crime?
We were taken to the Headmaster’s office where some teachers sat with Amovbille and Gertrude. They informed me told that someone overheard me telling Ambrose how I planned to do some things with Amovbille and Gertrude. The teacher who got this report was none other than Mrs. Arubayi. Someone reported the test incident, and she was moved to a lower class. I heard she was planning for me. May be today was her day, for it was her recommendation to the headmaster that Ambrose and myself be flogged and disgraced, even sent away from the school! The lie was so huge that my heart melted further. I could not even defend myself. Where was I supposed to start?
I had cried my worst before the first stroke touched me. Each felt like a nail driven into my skin by someone I respected. As Mr. Sunday gladly dealt the strokes, Mrs. Arubayi smiled in satisfaction. I bet she was getting her revenge. When they let me get some air, my whole body heaved uncontrollably. Gertrude cried as much as I did, until she was taken away from the office. Then it was Ambrose’s turn and they made me watch. A little respite came from that because no matter what Mr. Sunday did, Ambrose just kept this smirk on his face. He even winked at me!
By the time I got home, some amebo had gone to tell my parents. And just as they were preparing to go see the headmaster, Mr. Sunday strolled in and retold the lie. It was so unbearable and with the added security of my home, I charged at him with all my strength and pushed him into the wall. He tried to push me off but I chose that time to sink my teeth in his flesh and held it. It took my mother’s pleas to slacken my grip. Mr. Sunday was in pain, and I sighted a hint of tears in his eyes. That was all the satisfaction I needed. He will touch me again, and I’m sure he would not be welcome in our home anymore – for free lunch.
When I sufficiently calmed down, I was eating my food standing, since I could not sit on my buttocks. A knock sounded on the door, and as it opened I saw Gertrude and her parents enter. The first words they came out of their mouths dissipated my fear. “We’re very sorry” they said. I smiled genuinely and welcomed a hug from them. The flogging was wicked and unjust, but seeing her cry and hugging her parents more than made up for all the pain.
