THE KLUTZ WHO LIVED IN KABBA

CHAPTER ONE

By the time you enter into your final year in primary school, you are expected along with your parents to start thinking about choices for secondary school. My parents were pretty lenient with me and gave me lots of time and space to make my choice. That decision was made in 2009 at the age of 9 when I saw my mum frying a full chicken to take to my sister who was in a boarding house in Kabba. I watched my mum put so much love into frying that chicken and I was so jealous that my sister was going to be eating a whole chicken alone! But I took consolation in the fact that my mum would give me a piece of that chicken. Alas! When she was done she packaged the entire chicken into a cooler without tasting it or letting any of us to have a piece of the chicken. My mind was immediately made up; I must go this school so that I would also get one whole chicken to myself. During the next holidays when Ugochi came home I asked her some questions concerning the sporting facilities at the school (I wasn’t going to a school that did not possess a basketball court, football field and table tennis) and she told me they possessed all three of the sporting activities I mentioned. I told my dad I had decided to go to the boarding house and from that moment on my mind was focused on going to school seven hours away from home just so I could eat a whole chicken once in three months and indulge in the sporting activities I loved.

The day finally arrived; I dressed up in my church white because I was unwilling to wear my street clothes to go to my new school. I kept asking my dad how long it would take for us to get there and each time he answered, just a little bit longer. We got to the school and my heart was beating so wildly it was threatening to burst forth from my chest. I looked at the gates, beyond the gates, to students milling about heading towards the tuck shop, some going to class to read, some at the borehole tucked behind the principal’s office trying to get water and I smiled. I smiled because for the first time in my life I felt like an adventurer. 10 year old Chima on my journey to experience new life outside of Lagos!

My sister came around and with the help of the school bursar who was a friend of my dad I started the registration process. The next day when my dad was about to leave he gave me my pocket money, N140 which was the genesis of all my problems in the first term. That evening my sisters used N70 to get snacks for us to munch on while watching a inter house basketball game and when she brought me the change of N70 I knew right then that we were screwed!

I was put in violet house as my new hostel but there was no space there so I squatted with my sister in Rose House for most of my first year in Kabba. Most of the buildings in kabba had seen better days and Rose house was no exception. The building looked like if it was being held together by a foundation of strong stones beneath it. Most of the windows had no louvers, the paint job done on the outside walls were washed up and the hard granite floor always seemed to have a blurred, garish colour that no detergent could remove.

Two days after I had settled into Kabba I went to the borehole with my sister for the first time to fetch water and this was the first time I was putting an iron bucket on my head; by the time we had fetched the water and returned to the hostel, half of the water had already gone to ground. That night I had my first experience with the famous baba dudu who would hunt my nights for the rest of the six years I had to spend in kabba. In the first two months I spent in kabba, I learnt so many new skills. I learnt how to cut grass and work on teachers farms for free; I learnt how to get the best out of a cup of garri by leaving it to soak for 10mins, I learned how to have my morning bath with six bowls of water, I learned how to beg for money from friends and the bursar because the pittance my dad gave me was gone in three days. By the time the term ended, I was leaner that I was in September, I weighed less than 40kg and I was more than ready for the adventure to come to an end.

The next term I was moved into a different room with two seniors whom I feared so much because one of them Shakirat (I think that was her name) had this scary face that always had me scramming. I got a baptism of fire the first Saturday after inspection one of the seniors (Damilola) alleged that I had stolen her panties. First of all this young woman had  huge buttocks compared to by Kenyan lean looks so I was astounded that she would think that of all things for me to steal from her it would be her panties. She was serious and they made me kneel down while they screamed their heads off asking me to produce said panties. When I couldn’t give them the answer they wanted to hear Damilola gave me the most stinging slap I have ever received in my life! Hahahahaha…… the slap was so solid the white imprints of her black hands were left on my face for more than three hours, my ears kept buzzing for the rest of that day and I stayed away from the room until late at night when I had to sleep. I didn’t hate them, I just feared them and I was careful to spend as little time as possible in the room. My motto became stay away from environments seniors can find you and your days will be longer.

Life was hard; the school was a complete forest with only the basic necessities to keep us in. The food was so small I was always hungry all the time. Water was so scarce the only day I could have a good bath was the day after resumption and the day of vacation because these were the two days when the populace of students were reduced.

I don’t have much memory of the teachers, but I remember the corpers. Oh they were so cute I was always day dreaming of what it would be like to marry Corper Francis the math teacher. He always took time out to play table tennis with me and was always interested to find out how I was settling in. Most of the seniors had a crush on him; understandably so and they were constantly fighting for his attention its funny remembering it all now.

Beyond the school gates was a prison hellhole for junior students and paradise for the senior students. It was almost like the Marxist classes of Bourgeoise and Proletariat. The seniors had all the fun, sneaking out to late night parties, getting us the juniors to fetch water for them, wash their plates, do their laundry, clean their rooms and run errands for them all day long. It was a miracle how we found any time to study. It’s interesting how being in the real world has changed most of these people from callous animals to decent human beings and sometimes it feels surreal that I am friends to some of the people who were complete bitches to me in high school. I guess I understand the draw of power more than anything else so I never hated or blamed them for their animalistic actions.

It wasn’t all bad though, we had our own adventures. Me, Nkechi Ikeata and Nkechi Anene. I was the dull one out the three, Ikeata was street smart, Anene was book smart and I craved knowledge like bees to honey. We fit in a way that I never understood and we always had each other’s back through those tough three years of junior secondary school.

This is my attempt at remembering all the wonderful memories, the good times and the bond formed by young girls who became sisters united by the simple and singular essence for the will to survive.

 TO BE CONTINUED...