THE JOURNEY
OF A SCHOOLBOY
Sometimes we
wake up to the tragedy of what to eat. The last cup of rice had been cooked the
previous night and four friends had battled over the meal for a fair share.
The
well had dried up and it had become a routine to trek 200metres to the next
lodge that still had water in their well. You had to join the long queue
already waiting for their turn, sometimes you have to get into fist-cuffs
before getting water, not that the water is clean or drinkable, at least it
serves the purpose of house chores, bath and laundry for the morning.
All
these struggles are done in just few hours, since lecture is slated for 8am.
Walking down Ifite road to the bus stand, I seem to imagine that most students
just like me, might be covering hunger and weariness with those starched &
ironed designers clothes that adored our bodies.
Once
dressed for school, it was har4d to tell who ate or not, as everyone looks
smart. Even the lady that soaked garri that morning still looks beautiful in
her designers dress, flat shoes and male-up. All is packaging.
You
get to class to listen to an old weary woman tell you her life history; how
many degrees she had, how their generation was better than ours, and how
children of nowadays are never do-wells. She ends her lecture with a corporate
begging style of asking you to buy her half baked handout or forfeit your 30
marks.
You
trek to your next lecture somewhere in the bush, where an old man would be busy
looking at boobs and booties, standing ladies up just to analyze the sizes of
their fronts and backs. He ends his lecture with information that his quiz is
next week. Meanwhile he taught nothing but he will definitely set something for
the quiz.
You
leave school without hope of food. After those boring lectures you come back to
your squared house where you struggle with rats and cockroaches for right of
occupancy. The most annoying thing is that these creatures don’t share your
rent with you, they just squat with you and share everything that comes into
the house, food, clothes, books etc. the only thing they refuse to share is
that drug you kept for them to eat and die, they leave it for you untouched.
Night
comes with its comfort, not that it takes away your worries, but at least it
helps you forget them for the time being. But the nights are not always empty;
mosquitoes who had become unwanted night guests are usually there to wine on
your poor blood.
You
wake the next morning weary and weak, you look at the clock, and it is 5am. You
curse and sigh because you know the journey of a schoolboy continues…
Augustus
Bill
©2014
TUN/0010//29/07/14
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