A Boy Called Achebe

A Boy Called Achebe

Egbulonu Odinaka Kingsley.

Disclaimer.

A pure work of Fiction. Similarities to real people, places and events are entirely coincidental.

A Boy Called Achebe.

DEDICATION.

This story is entirely dedicated to God as a first fruit.

TABLE OF CONTENT.

Title page.

Disclaimer.

Dedication.

Table of contents.

Episode one

Episode Two

Episode three

Episode four

Episode Five.

Episode six

Episode Seven

Episode Eight

Episode Nine.

Episode Ten

Episode Eleven

Book Two.

Episode One

Episode Two

Episode Three

Episode Four

Episode Five

Episode Six

Episode Seven

About the book

About the Author.

Episode one.

Early Monday Morning around 7 am in September 1996, my Mother woke me up and reminded me that I would be starting school that day. At first, I felt so thrilled because I thought it was some sort of adventure. I didn’t know what school was all about. Every Morning I watched my elderly Siblings take their baths and off, they went. They normally put on a cloth that looked so strange to me. It wasn’t like the day-to-day attire I usually see them wear. I asked my Mother almost every day they left the house where they went and she always told me they went to school.

I felt left out.

I wanted to follow my Siblings to school every Morning. I didn’t have the kind of clothes they put on at school. Mine was different when my Mother brought it out from the basket where my clothes were packed. It was new anyway. But it was the clothes I normally wear to a place where I see human beings clapping, singing, and shouting. It was later I got to know that that place was called Church. I wondered why my Mother was arranging my Church wear for school. I entered her room and enquired from her and she told me I would be wearing it until I got my new school uniform. School uniform? That sounded new to me. That was the name of the clothes I saw my elder Siblings wear every Morning to school. She told me that. The highest place my Father took me to was the marketplace. He was a trader. He sold bags of foodstuffs like Egwusi, Ogbono, Pepper, and some other things. My Mother supported him. In the market, I could see some people wearing the same clothes my elder brothers wore to school. That made me think school was somewhere inside the marketplace.

How I love Agidi and bean cakes. Daddy would always get me those while I sat and watched the Ocean of market men and women flooding the market area.

“Remove your clothes” My Mother ordered me.

She wanted to bathe me but I wanted to do it myself. I hardly hear her say that to my elderly Siblings. They always locked themselves inside a small room and poured water on their bodies. I wanted to do that myself but Mum wouldn’t allow me. I frowned.

“I said remove your clothes let me bathe you” she yelled.

“You are going to school with your brothers. I want them to register you in school today” she was still talking when she splashed some cold water on me.

I felt like running away because it was really cold. It rained heavily the previous night and Mum used the rain water that collected in that particular bucket on me. She held my tiny arm muscle firmly and continued to pour water on me from my head which streamed down my toes. After some time my body got used to the water and I began to enjoy it. She wiped my little body with the towel and told me to run inside the room. I jingled to the room; my room.

My elder brothers were almost dressed and about to leave for school. I felt like shouting at my Mother for allowing my bath take so long. Dee Rufus our eldest brother, like we, the younger ones fondly called him had already relaxed his leather bag behind his back. I feared he would leave me. Already, Mum said Rufus would be the one to register me in school. I didn’t want to stay at home anymore so I was rushing my clothes my big head stuck in the collar of my tiny polo-vest. I began to shout. The cloth covered my view. The next thing I saw was my mum forcing the shirt over my head. I took a deep breath after that. I nearly suffocated.

Outside the room, Dee Rufus and brother Tochi, our second eldest brother were growing impatient about waiting for me. My Mother hung my newly bought A B C designer school bag over my shoulder with two pieces of Olympic 2A exercise books, a sharpener, and a long sharpened 2B pencil. I thought I was going to be using them not knowing it’s for my immediate elder brother, Sopuru. His polythene bag that carried his books was almost torn apart. Mum insisted he must use them like that, complaining that she’s tired of changing bags for Sopuru. No wonder Mum had to put his books in my bag. Guess what! Mum gave me what she called a slate; a rectangular-shaped wooden miniature board. She included two pieces of white finger-like solid substances inside the bag. She called them chalk.

Off, we left.

After a long walk with my Siblings, we came to the school; a nursery school. It was situated along Orji Community signboard, opposite the community market. It had no name at that time. The teacher stepped out of the large hall containing about fifteen pupils. She was the only teacher, the headteacher, and as well, Jack of all trade. She was a tall and huge woman. My Siblings greeted her and she responded with a big smile.

“You’re welcome” she said, pointing us to her office. Other children in the class room popped out their tiny heads looking at us. I hated crowds but I was confident because after all my Siblings were there with me. So, nothing to panic about.

We all marched into her office. There was only one rubber stool probably meant for the visitors. Dee Rufus sat down first. Even the headteacher’s seat was a wooden back chair that would shriek and growl like my father’s twelve-inch spring bed each time she adjusted her fat buttocks on it. The rest of us stood.

“How are your parents?“she asked my elder brother.

“Fine. They are fine” he said.

I wondered how this strange woman got to know about my parents at first. I decided I was going to ask my brother when we left there. She opened her note; A long book with a thick back cover. Later I understood it was called the school register.

“When is he getting his school uniform” she asked my sibling. I knew she was referring to me because I was looking very odd.

“Maybe, by next week Monday.” He replied. She didn’t look up. She was busy using a long plastic object to support her pen on the book while she made a line. I understood later that the material was called a Ruler or meter rule.

“What is his name?” she asked. My Siblings looked at me, expecting me to talk. I was shocked because I didn’t know how to answer her. I knew my name. But I was thinking there was an official way to do or say it in school other than just calling out my name to the headteacher the way my friends do call me.

“Nna, what is your name? Tell Aunty.” Ifeanyi, one of my elder brothers asked. My heart began to thump noisily.

I was going to cry.

“Achebe” I said. My eyes welled up with tears. Had I squeezed it tears would have dropped. The headteacher wrote it.

“Achebe who?” she asked with her lips rounded in a circular shape.

“Orie... Orie Achebe” I stammered. It was easy for me to recall because my father taught me with my elder siblings about our family names.

“How old are you?” she asked again.

I was growing so uneasy with my feelings. I didn’t want to embarrass myself. I couldn’t talk because I had no idea what my age was. My Mother had never said anything about that to me.

Age? That sounded so strange. I sensed the woman grew impatient with me and handed a white paper to my elder brother who was sitting down.

“Please supply all the basic information about him so that I can enter it. I don’t have time for all this. With time he will learn.” She sounded very unsympathetic. I was feeling so terrible.

Ifeanyi quickly scribbled down something on the white paper and handed it over to her.

“Good.” She said. “Hope he’s starting today”

“Sure.” My brother answered.

“Shall we?” she gestured with her hand and my Siblings started leaving the room. I thought we were going home.

I felt a little relieved.

The next thing I saw was the woman holding my little arm firmly and was about taking me into the classroom where I could meet other children. I held my brother’s hand very tight. I didn’t like the look on that woman’s face. I was so scared. I hoped it wasn’t what I was thinking.

“Achebe” My brother called me, “We will come for you when school dismisses. Just follow Aunty Nkechi and join others in the classroom.”

“Are you kidding me?” I thought. My eyes showed my censure to such idea.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I never thought of this earlier. All the sorrows that had accrued in the trench of my heart boomeranged. I was struggling to let loose of my hand from her grip but it was too tight. I felt like I was been dragged to hell fire. We learned in the children’s ministry that on the last day, the day of rapture, those who were not taken into the cloud would be held tight by demons on their arms and dragged to hell fire. That thought immediately resurfaced when the headteacher held me that tight. I cried and fought with all my strength to let go but this woman, instead, began to flog me the more. I cursed my Siblings in my heart as they stood watching one woman design my body with koboko. I was rolling on the floor and she was still flogging me.

“Please Dee call my mummy… please call my mummy o! Tell her I don’t want to go to school again… Aunty please…” I bellowed.

“Will you cry again?” she asked, showing me the cane as though if I had answered ‘Yes’ she would continue to flog me. I quickly answered “No” thinking that would end the matter.

“Oya stand up and enter class now.” She said. I still insisted my brothers enter the classroom with me. That was what motivated me in the first place. Now they are leaving me to die in the arms of this stranger.

“Achebe stop crying...we will come for you after school okay.” One of my brothers said. I didn’t look at their faces to know which of them made that comment. I only turned to find Sopuru laughing at me. He was obviously taunting me. How could I have fallen for this trap? I had thought.

After much struggle with the headteacher, she jerked me up by my two little arms into the classroom and forced my buttocks on a short pew already seated by other pupils.

“Are these not your fellow children?” said to me, panting and sweating under her armpit. I saw it.

“You want to go home and eat Fofo and Yam every day...” she was still talking when the pupils started laughing at me. I felt like fighting one of them sitting closer to me. Though, he looked older than me. Most of them in that classroom appeared even tinier than I was and some were very much older like my immediate elder brother, Sopuru.

I didn’t notice the mucus that was dropping from my nose. All I could do was either snivel or lick the mucus that came across my lips. It tasted salty.

Mummy has beaten me several times about licking my mucus droplets. She said I should always clean them with the back of my hand or my clothes. But I forgot this instruction on several occasions and was compensated ruthlessly for it.

Soon, the headteacher was standing by the blackboard holding a piece of white chalk. She was somewhat taller than the blackboard. She would bend a little each time she wanted to write.

“Let’s continue from where we stopped.” She said and continued.

My back was burning while I sat there. The strokes made me very uncomfortable.

“Who can spell APPLE?” she asked the class.

I haven’t heard that word before. So I was hoping that question wasn’t for me. The entire class raised their hands shouting,

“Aunty me...Aunty me...”

I think I was the only dull person that day.

Finally, Aunty pointed at the boy right behind me. I nearly defecated out my intestines thinking the question was directed to me.

Incredibly, the boy stood up and answered wrongly. I wondered why he was jumping up in the first place. He spelled APPLE to be ABU. I thought it was correct initially until Aunty shouted “shut up and sit down.”

As if that wasn’t enough, another boy sitting in the front row who received the appointment to answer threw another bomb. He spelled APPLE to be AEMUV, and guess what, he began to laugh and applaud himself. The teacher stood disappointed. I thought finally somebody got the answer.

“All of you sit down!” she barked and every sound died down like it never existed.

“This is what I just thought you people before I left to attend to the newcomer here and yet none of you can bring an answer. Everybody kneel and raise your hands”

I think I was the first person who went on my knees. I didn’t want to receive the kind of flogging I got not up to fifteen minutes ago. My head began to ache and my body grew very hot.

Another tiny female voice answered from the back seat.

“Aunty...APPNE” she said. Her intonation of L sounded like N. The teacher understood.

“Who said that?” the teacher asked. I guessed everybody began to shake thinking somebody made another blunder that would intensify our punishment.

“Who said that...?” she asked for the second time.

One boy sitting at the back stood and shouted, “Aunty, it’s Precious that said it. It’s not me o!”

“Oya Precious come out here now.” She ordered. Precious was already crying her eyes out by the time she came out.

“Clap for her, one...” she said.

“Kpam!” Our hands sounded.

“Two!”

“Kpam! Kpam!”

“Good. Precious got the answer correctly. Now, everybody is going to knock his or herself. You, the new boy...” she said to me. I looked at her.

“Sit down.” She pointed at me with her cane.

I did.

“Everybody, give Precious a round of applause once again” she said. We all did. I thanked my stars for being a new pupil and wished to remain an everyday new pupil. But it ended sooner than I thought.

After school that day, the headteacher; Aunty Nkechi called me and began to tell me how she’s related to my Father. She explained to me how her grandmother descended from the same grandmother as my Father but from their maternal home. I didn’t understand her explanation but I believed her because her expression when she welcomed us in the Morning gave a clue of her rapport with my family.

Soon, my Siblings arrived from school. They came to pick me up. My heart melted on seeing them. I wanted to start crying all over again to make them understand how badly they treated me in the Morning. But I was encouraged immediately they handed a wrapped nylon bag to me. It contained a warm and soft stuff. I opened it and it was my favorite; Jollof Agidi. My eldest brother carried me on his shoulder and we headed for home.

Aunty Amarachi who was our neighbor at home came to pick up her baby sister, Precious. It was then I knew Precious, the girl who saved the entire class from punishment was from the same neighborhood as me.

My faith increased.

Episode two.

Aunty Amarachi used to give Precious home lessons after school. My Father had advised my Mum to take me to Aunty Amarachi so that she could be teaching me. That was exactly what my Mother did. I started extra moral classes with Precious but after some time I was discouraged because Precious was intimidating me with her eloquence and academic brightness. I was a dummy.

Each day we came back from school, Aunty Amarachi would invite me into her room to teach me. One of those days she asked me to recite the alphabetical letters from A-Z. I started but halted at letter J. I couldn’t continue because I didn’t know the next letters that followed it. Precious stood up and finished it. I was drenched in shame. As tender as I was, I could say a few reasonable things. Most at times my Father would assume me to be the reincarnation of his grandfather because of some mature words that escaped my mouth.

Aunty Amarachi would write something on the small black board. She would clean them up and ask Precious to come and repeat what she wrote. Precious did. She called me up to repeat what she wiped off the blackboard but I couldn’t. I was profusely sweating on my feet, and my hands terribly shook.

One day she told me the reason I didn’t know anything was because I eats too much of Fofo, as a result it had washed out my memory bank. I went home that day very sullen.

Few days later as I was preparing for school; which I had started enjoying already, Precious came over to our house to wait for me so that we could walk together. My Siblings no longer waited for me given to my lateness. My Mother brought out Fofo as usual to serve me with warm Onugbo soup. The presence of Precious made me lose appetite for that food. I didn’t want her to see me as a foodie. I pretended I wasn’t going to eat. My Mother insisted I must eat. Precious discouraged me from eating so that I would be brilliant like her. I believed her without any iota of doubt. My desire had always been to be as intelligent as she was. My Mother gave me three pieces of one naira coin to buy food during break period. That was a whole lot of money to me. I blushed in excitement and ran to school with my bottled water.

During break period that day in school, I went across the road to the market to buy my favorite; Jollof Agidi and Akara Balls (bean cake). The headteacher saw me, collected the Agidi from me and shared it to everybody in the class. I didn’t know how to tell her I didn’t eat before coming to school in the Morning. She flogged me and told me never to cross the main road again to buy anything. I felt like cursing her to her face.

I was so lonely. Precious had wanted to be my friend but I wasn’t so sure I wanted any friend.

As I stood at a corner of the classroom looking through the wooden window I could see ‘chief’; a child suffering from down syndrome, from the same community with me. He was so named chief because of his posture each time he’s walking. He’s fond of rubbing his food on the floor before eating. I watched him curiously scrub his piece of bread on dust, allowing his saliva stream out of his mouth unto the food. It was such a disgusting sight. Apparently, chief was the oldest child amongst us. Gossip had it that chief kept repeating nursery school almost every year. For at least four years of his life. Precious saw chief on the floor while she was walked towards my direction. She wanted to know how I was doing. I guessed. I didn’t want to talk to anybody because Aunty collected my snack from me and shared it to everybody. Even Precious got a share of my snacks.

“Hey!” she said pointing her little finger at me. I was just staring.

“Do you care?” she was giving me cheese balls. I was wondering how smart she could be with words as little as she was. I was a little bigger than her. Her uniform was oversized. Mine was yet to come. Anyway, I collected the cheese balls from her because I was very hungry. She smiled. Her smile was beautiful because of her dimples. Her tiny white teeth glittered.

I was still enjoying the cheese balls when Aunty came into the class. The break period was over.

“Get into the class now!” she shouted. There was no school bell. Only her voice did the announcement. I had no permanent sitting position. So, I fixed myself any where I found pleasant. Precious was sitting right beside me.

“Now we are going to learn the spelling of numerical figures.” She said.

“I’d like you all to follow me as I read out” she began to point at the numbers on the black board. I saw Precious’ mouth moving in correspondence. I knew if I had kept mute Aunty would ask me to recite the figures alone. So, I had to make sure my lips kept moving up and down to keep the teacher’s attention away from me.

“O-N-E is 1” she said. She expected us to know the spelling of the figures.

“O-N-E is 1” we responded. Did I just say we, I mean, they responded. I wasn’t so sure what they were pronouncing. At a point it started making meaning to me.

“Again?” she said.

“O-N-E is 1”

Me, “O-N-D is 1” that was what I heard.

We sang it repeatedly for almost five to six times. The teacher wanted to make sure we learnt it.

“T-W-O is 2”

“B-W-O is do” My response was completely different from others.

At a point, Aunty began to tilt her attention towards my direction. I became nervous.

“Hey, Achebe come out and recite the figures and their spelling to us.” She said. I pretended I didn’t hear it. Instead, I looked behind searching vacantly into the faces of those behind me. But it didn’t work.

“If I repeat myself I’d come there and drag you out with this cane”

I felt I already urinated in my short before getting to the front row.

“Face the class and recite the spelling of the figures from one to seven”

“O-N-D, 1” I began,

“B-W-O, do. BHRDD, 3. MOUR, 4. SIBE, 5. SIS, 6. STEVN, 7”

When I looked back I saw the teacher sweating profusely from laughter. Few pupils who understood my blunder joined the teacher in laughter. Honestly, I didn’t know why they were laughing.

“Goat-head, stupid boy, coconut head… will you go and sit down!” The teacher jeered at me. Stupid boy and coconut head didn’t bother me so much. My concern was goat head. Why? That was the favorite name I gave to anybody I hated. And now the teacher was calling me that name. I heard my Father call my brother that name several times. Since then, it became my curse lingo.

That day, I cried home.

Episode Three

Adaugo, my younger sister cries a lot.

If you are coming to our house through the back yard, sometimes you would hear Adaugo wailing on top of her voice. She was a few months old. This made other younger children sing Cry! Cry! Baby! For her each time they hear voice. Any time I was left by my Mother to watch over Adaugo, she must cry. I pinched her robust cheek or I would bite her little finger. I enjoyed watching her cry. The only time I walked away was when the food was served. Mum would shout my name from the hut; a little building made of raffia. I knew food was ready.

“O!” I would respond and run down to meet her.

“Here” she hands over my plate of Jollof rice to me. She knew rice was my favorite since I began to avoid eating Fofo because of Precious’ advice. I had a little seat; too little that if you are an adult and you sat on it you would appear to be sitting on the bare floor. My grandmother bought it for me. I would sit on my seat somewhere near the pavement and enjoy my meal. My elder Siblings would sit at the pavement. It was some meters high. My head could not measure up to the height. I was very little.

My Siblings would always go for extra plate each time they finish their food.

“The remaining food in the pot is for the dinner. Don’t touch it” my Mother would warn.

“If you eat again now bear it in mind that you won’t eat in the night.”

“O!” they agreed.

Once my Mother leaves the kitchen to breast feed Adaugo they would sneak into the kitchen and gather full plate of food and add to the one they already had, violating my Mother’s instruction.

I was watching.

Soon, my Mother was back to the kitchen.

“Who removed food from this pot?” She asked. Nobody responded. I didn’t respond. My Siblings threatened me if I exposed them they would not buy me aeroplane. I loved aero plane so much. I had seen one in my Father’s Black and white TV. They promised to get one for me. It was on account of that promise that my Siblings did all sorts of dubious activities in my Mother’s pot of soup and I didn’t report them.

My Mother would shout and spit curses. Nobody made any sympathetic motion. She would report us to my Father who would threaten to starve us for a week. But my Father doesn’t get anywhere closer to the kitchen. Guess what? My Siblings still comfortably ate as much they wanted even as against my Mother’s will.

My elder Siblings were regarded as people who were good for nothing. They would eat and not bother about firewood. They would take their bath and not bother about fetching water. They would never bother about farm work even when my Father had instructed them.

My Father had a weakness. He hardly kept things to himself. Anything my Siblings did, neighbors and well-wishers must hear about it. He didn’t understand the implication of what he was doing until in the later years. They turned against him. It got to a point nobody said anything good about his children; my Siblings. We became the object of contempt and caricature amongst others. My Siblings hated my Father for that.

One day, I was instructed to serve my Father’s food. My elder brother Tochi was supposed to do that but because he feared my Father, he handed the plate of food over to me. I needed to jump across a little gutter demarcating our kitchen from the sitting room when I slipped and felled inside the gutter. The hot soup splashed over my face. I was crying and licking the ones that came across my lips. It was my Mother that found out that I injured on my head. Initially, I didn’t feel the pain but much later it left a mark on my head. Even till now.

My Father would pursue my brother Tochi and he would jump over the fence and never return home until in the night.

My Father was a disciplinarian.

When he decides to deal with your offence, bloody tears from my Mother’s eyes can’t stop him.

It could take even a week. He might pretend to have forgotten. But, pray you don’t fall into his trap; our black and white TV. He knew each time he switched on his TV people from different parts of the village always came to watch a popular program called ‘Zebudaiah’. It was one of its kinds. Children would drop their buckets of water on the floor and came stretching their necks on the window to catch a glimpse of the TV program. Even other married men and older women were not exempted. Some who were just returning from farm work would without taking their bath relax on the replaceable wooden cushion, rubbing off their sweat on them. We were not the richest in our community but my Father had a TV.

Once everybody was engrossed with the TV program, there comes my Father holding his victim by the shirt, neck or belt; my brother.

“You think you can run Abi?” he had said. He would drag him to his inner room and the next thing we would see was somebody with streaks of whip all over his body. Sometimes, wound on the head and face.

This was the atmosphere I grew up.

Episode Four.

My nursery education lasted for three years. Three years of constantly being ridiculed by my teacher and some enemies in the class as the dullest pupil. They teacher had wanted me to spend extra year in the nursery to see if anything could enter my head. My Father gave his support. I bled through the nose crying against it. Precious had travelled to Lagos to continue her primary education. Me? I didn’t dream about it. After much debate I was allowed to continue primary education at Orji Community School.

It was in 1999.

Now, I was going to be using a pencil and 2A Olympic exercise book. I had my newly tailored white shirt and oversized shorts. My legs were so tiny inside the shorts that one would have thought I was an imp or monkey or anything ugly on seeing me for the first time.

Sopuru held me by the hand and walked. I was excited I was going to be staying around my Siblings but not knowing my two eldest Siblings just wrote their standard six last year being 1998. Even Sopuru didn’t know they were no longer in the primary school. All he kept telling me each time I asked him was they changed school uniforms. I began to think probably when one gets to the higher class in the primary school one would change school uniform. I was later informed otherwise.

We were still at the tip of the school field when we saw some students walking on their knees with a man holding a long stick standing by them. My heart raced into my stomach. This was one thing I hated so much. To be flogged. My brother worsened the case. He told me to walk straight into the classroom and that I would not be disturbed because I was a newcomer.

“No!” I shouted.

“We must go together.” I insisted with my tender but determined voice. “I will tell Daddy if you leave me” I shook while I spoke.

My brother handed a piece of biscuit to me but I threw it over his face. Before now, that was the best thing he could do for me but his best presently was not regarded any more. I wanted us both to march into the class room but my brother was fidgeting. I asked what the offense of the students were and he told me they came late or they didn’t come with their cutlasses for cutting the grass or they didn’t come to school with their bunch of firewood which the teachers requested almost every month. Sopuru was without any. Me? I was just a newcomer. But I wasn’t convinced about that excuse. Some latecomers like us were bending and running immediately they came to the point we were hiding too. Finally, he came up with an idea. We had to go back and come through the old school road. Students were not always permitted to walk through that path reason being that it was reported that money ritualists normally hang around that path to prey on the innocent children.

That was the road we took.

As calm as it was I moved with my brother on that lonely pathway hoping no body jumps out of the bush to harass us.

We were some distance away from the middle of the lonely pathway when a man walked out of the bush with a machete. He was very tall and black in complexion and had on big shoes. I feared he could be one of those killers people talked about. Sopuru stopped. The man stopped. Me? I couldn’t stop. I left Sopuru’s hand and began to cry and run backwards. Hot urine watered down my new school uniform. Suddenly Sopuru ran after me and caught me telling me he knew the man. I didn’t believe him. I was still running. I was only convinced when I saw the man carrying heaps of fodder; food meant for goats or sheep. That was actually what the man came for and not for human heads like I had imagined.

Finally, we sneaked into the classroom unnoticed. No teacher was around. We could hear their voices laughing and joking in the general office. Of course, every teacher was supposed to have his or her own desk inside the classroom. But ours was without a teacher, just few books, a long cane and a woman’s hand bad.

I was supposed to be in primary one but I joined Sopuru to primary three. That was ridiculous. I looked at the black board and I was seeing things that seemed crazy and hazy for me. I was seeing figures. I was seeing lines drawn on the black board with white chalk. Some looked like one of those I have seen in my Nursery days.

I was about bringing out my Agidi to eat that early Morning when a woman walked into the classroom. The students banged their desk and recited some words to the teacher.

“Sit down” she said.

I didn’t know what that meant. I was never taught that before. I later asked Sopuru and he told me that was a way to greet the teacher. “Kpam! Kpam! Kpam... Kpam... good Morning Aunty, we are happy to see you”

The students were very few so the teacher literally knew everyone in the classroom. It wasn’t long when she saw me.

“Hey, stand up. Who are you and what are you doing here?” she asked. I didn’t talk. I was expecting Sopuru to do the explanation. I just stared at her.

“Can’t you talk? Who brought this boy?”

Sopuru raised his hand.

“Yes, how may we help him?” She asked and began to play with her cane. My buttocks began to tremble and my feet became sweaty.

“He started today”

“So? He’s not supposed to be here. Kindly take him to his class before I flog the hell out of him...”

I couldn’t wait for her to finish when I dragged my school bag and hasted out of the class unaccompanied by my brother. I was outside crying when Sopuru came and took me to my class. There, I saw people that looked of the same height with me.

The teacher was already there. Students called him by his name; Mr. Ogu. We went to his table.

“Sir good Morning,” my brother greeted.

“Sir good Morning” I mumbled.

“How are youuu?” he said playfully while touching my fat cheek.

“Fine” I responded.

“Hope you have registered?” he asked. I couldn’t talk. I turned and looked at my brother.

“Sir, my Daddy said he will come tomorrow and register him”?

“Okay, you may sit down. Come back when school dismisses and take him home”

“O,” My brother responded and left.

I sat at the front row.

After few weeks I’ve become used to the school system. I made friends and some friends chose me. One of the people I met was Chuks by name. Till now, we are still good friends. My friendship with Chuks began the day we were supposed to peel cassava for our teacher during break hour. We had just finished harvesting the cassava from the school farm when the teacher requested that we peel it. I wasn’t comfortable with it. I thought I was the only one who was trying to dodge the responsibility until I saw Chuks sneaking away. I pretended I wanted to ease myself and joined him. We escaped.

Most of the afternoon, I would sneak out of the class room with Chuks and we’ll go hunting. We wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the day in the bush chasing after squirrels and bush rats. Of course, we caught a lot of games.

Most of the time we came to school with shovels and small hoes giving a false impression that the teacher had need of them but No! We wanted to use them for digging the ground in search of rabbits hole or grass cutters.

I hated home work or take home assignments because I had no idea what the teacher talked about the previous day regarding the assignment. I would give it to my brother Sopuru who would work on it and after which I would give Chuks to copy from mine.

During the first term exams, in one of those days, I told Chuks that I would copy verbatim everything that Chinaza would write. Chinaza was the brightest student among us. She was tiny as well but a little shorter than myself. I envied her intelligence. I connived with Chuks to steal from her work during the exams.

It wasn’t long the question papers were distributed to each of us and we started shading. My Father had promised to take me to Nkwoumezeala market if I ever top the class. Nkwoumezeala market was one of the biggest markets in our local government that any child aspired to visit someday. And so, my Father had given me an opportunity that would eventually get my dreams fulfilled.

The only thing I did not copy from Chinaza was her full name. I was certain about that. Any where she made a mistake and decides to erase it, I was sure to erase mine too. Chuks was sitting adjacent to me copying from me and erasing with me where necessary. It never occurred to me that the teacher was watching from his desk.

“Pensus up! (Pencils)” the teacher shouted. Pensus was what it sounded like in my ears. Hope you understand?

I was so excited when I finally submitted.

At home I was bragging to my Siblings and parents how I was going to come on top of the class that term. It didn’t move them. I wondered. They already knew my brain was occupied with Fofo and fluid. I went straight to my Father and told him how ready he should get in order to take me to the promised almighty Nkwoumezeala market. I was told big masquerades paraded the market arena. I was equally told that when you start visiting the market it means you’ve grown enough to handle yourself to avoid getting lost in the midst of the crowd. At the age of six, I wanted to prove to them how grown I was.

One week later the school summoned us to come for our results with our bunch of firewood. I couldn’t wait for Sopuru. I needed to go take mine and then come home and celebrate.

On getting there, Chuks was broadly smiling waiting for me.

“Did you come?” I asked him in excitement.

“Mm.” He responded.

“Chinaza thinks she is intelligent. We’ll see who will win today” I bragged.

“The other day she even insulted me and called me coconut head in front of my Father”

“What !”

“Yes”

“That ugly big head calling you coconut head”

“Once we take our results we’ll beat her up”

“Abi?”

“Yes.”

“No. we are not going to beat her. If we beat her now next term she won’t allow us sit closer to her”

“So what shall we do to her?”

“Nothing...”

“Gbam! Gbam! Gbam!” the bell goes.

It was time to hear the results.

The principal mounted the podium. He began to address the students. I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. My heart was pounding and at the same time excited. I couldn’t figure out exactly how I was feeling. I eagerly waited for the moment where he would start calling the names and stop this long story. Finally, it came.

“...at this point, I would like to call out the first five best students in primary one and two, then Mr Ogu can continue with the rest.” The principal, Mr Madu said. I could literally hear the sound of my heart beat. My mouth went dry and I was suddenly hungry. I remembered how I rejected the food my Mother gave me that Morning in excitement. I felt hot urine seeking for release within my abdomen and I couldn’t object to it. I found myself at the back of the school building urinating like that was going to be the last opportunity I would ever have.

“Okoro Mercy took the fifth position. Please put your hands together for her.” The principal said. The students did.

She walked up to the podium and exchanged a handshake with the principal. I waited eagerly at the point where I urinated with my ears directly connected to the principal’s voice.

“The fourth position goes to Agba Cecilia”

She came out. I knew Agba Cecilia was not very intelligent. It’s just that the teacher liked her so much. I thought.

“Egbula Daniel, third position.”

I was waiting for either first or second position since I copied. Let me be kind enough to allow Chinaza with first position.

Chuks? Where would he be if I emerged second position whereas he copied from me too having heard the last three names and was not mentioned? Maybe he didn’t copy everything or he didn’t copy properly. I was already feeling better than Chuks for not copying correctly.

“The second position goes to Chijioke Sandra.”

She came out. Sandra was the best friend of Chinaza but they don’t sit closer during exams and I wondered how she was able to make it.

At this point I started walking out slowly from my hiding place feeling so dejected. Could it be that I came first position or what?

“And the first position goes to Chinaza Okoro”

“What happened?” I asked myself.

To my shock, I saw Chuks graciously smiling towards my direction.

“It worked o!” he said.

“What worked?” I asked.

“The thing we did worked. Chinaza took just ‘one’ and Sandra her best friend took ‘two’. We overshadowed them that’s why our names were not mentioned.”

“How?”

“Don’t you know that anyone that came ‘one’ is at the bottom of the class?”

“Who told you that?”

“Aah! the teacher called them out to shake hands with them so that they won’t feel bad.”

“Eh!”

“Yes na!”

My hope rekindled immediately.

We waited patiently for the principal to finish with the names when the teacher started giving out the report card.

I hurriedly opened mine and saw thirty ninth positions out of forty. I couldn’t talk. I went to see Chuks’ card.

“What’s your own?” I asked.

“They wrote forty out of forty. What about your own?”

“Thirty nine.”

Chuks started laughing at me.

“What!”

“I’m even better than you” he said.

“With just one mark. I won’t show you again next term”. I got angry. I felt cheated for allowing Chuks score higher than me after copying from me, and me, from Chinaza. I pitied Chinaza so much for failing after I copied from her.

On my way home some family friends asked about my result and I told them boastfully how I took thirty ninth positions out of forty. They laughed but I took that for a commendation and felicitation.

At home my elder Siblings couldn’t help laughing at me. My interest was in making sure my Father took me to the promised market. And he did.

...

One night, my Father sent me to his room to get him fifty naira.

I ran into his room for the money. But it later occurred to me that I couldn’t differentiate between the naira currencies on my Father’s desk. They were so many of them with different colours. I had to start picking and presenting them to my Father one after the other.

“Daddy, is it this one. Red one?”

My Father flashed his torchlight on it.

“No. this one is ten naira. I said bring me fifty naira. Fifty naira.” He reiterated.

“O,” I shouted and ran back to his room and came out with another one.

“Is it this one? The brown one.”

“Who removed the fifty naira I kept on that table? This one is hundred. I kept fifty naira on that table this evening. Nne go and check yourself.” My Father ordered my elder sister, Chizoba to go and bring the money.

“Look at it” she said. “Achebe doesn’t know which is which. Isiaki (coconut head)”

It became obvious to my Father that there was nothing in my brain.

“Achebe!” my Father called me. He had never called me like that before.

“O” I answered with uncertain tone. I knew all was not well.

“Go and bring me a nice cane outside.”

I brought a lighter cane. He broke it and requested for a larger and stronger one. I did.

“Go to my room and bring me thirty naira.”

I didn’t know thirty naira was a combination of twenty and ten naira. I brought him ten naira note. My Father grabbed my back and gave it a new artistic design with his cane.

That night, I couldn’t sleep on the bed. My Father ordered that I should not be given food for one week and he meant it. But trust my mum; she would still give me food at the absence of my Father.

That was how my academic life remained until a few years.

Episode five.

My maternal home was the biggest city I’d ever known. It was situated in a remote area. No light, no water and no motorable roads. Although, not much different from where I came from. Any day we; my Siblings and I, heard that we were visiting my maternal home it was the best day for us.

It was during the long vacation.

My Mother came back from market and told us she would like us to go and stay with my maternal Mother for the period of the vacation. That was good news. She was about to tell us when to go when I rush into the room and began arranging my clothes. I didn’t want her to change her mind. Within few minutes I was on my clothes and likewise Sopuru.

And we went.

I was barely getting used to my maternal grandmother who was fond of calling us names at slightest mistakes. Should she find out we didn’t fetch water or firewood, hell would let loose that day. She kept a thing and you eventually removed it, the entire neighborhood must know about it. But she was really a nice woman. She couldn’t deny us any portion of meal no matter our offence. She would always tell my mum ‘when you beat a child with the left arm console him with the right arm’. We took advantage of it. Knowing very well that no matter what offence we committed we must still eat. I loved her so much for that.

The village stream was some kilometers away from home. The stream could be found down the valley. All the flood and water runoffs from houses found themselves there. You would find thick bushes characterized with strange chirps of different species of ungodly birds around its corners. We believed that mermaids visited the water at night. Our grandma would always warn us “please don’t visit Efuru at night otherwise you will see ghost and mermaids”

I hated talking about mermaids. It scared me to the bone. A lot of tales my mum told us about mermaids never ended well with the victims. Its either the victim is initiated into the marine world or you are drown in the stream in a broad day light.

One hot afternoon, we went to fetch water from Efuru stream. We saw mostly children littered every corner of the stream. Some were in the water and some could be found tying themselves around their Mother who was either washing clothes or processing their fermented cassava. We went with Chiemerie and Adaobi. Chiemerie and Adaobi were of the same parents but Adaobi was older than Chiemerie and very much advanced in age. She plays a lot. Big boys molested her so much because she was really beautiful. Chiemerie fights a lot and that made me fear staying around him.

We finished fetching our buckets of water and decided to swim. I didn’t know how to swim. So, I would stay calm and watched Sopuru start up the swimming exercise. He couldn’t swim better than Chiemerie because we believed it was their stream so he should do better than could any visitor.

“Hold my hand...help me...” I screamed as I swallowed whole lot of dirty water.

“Give me your hand!” Sopuru yelled at me. My teeth ground like an engine mill. Finally my feet were on the ground after much struggle to rescue me by Sopuru and Chiemerie. My stomach was already swollen as a result of much water I took.

“It’s your fault!” I shouted at Chiemerie. I didn’t know who caused it but I needed to blame someone in order not to permit people see me as a greenhorn in swimming.

“Sopuru better warn Achebe your brother. He’s accusing me of getting him...” Chiemerie was still complaining when I hit it so hard.

“Idiot, you caused it. It’s your fault and don’t even try to deny it.” I didn’t know the frog I swallowed that gave me that kind of gut that day. I stood face to face with Chiemerie who was taller and well built than me ready to fight.

“Tai! Tai!” was the sound I heard. After some minutes I realized that was a hot slap on my face. It took me some minutes to recover from the shock. All I could do was to sit on the floor trying to absorb the sorrow welling up in my heart.

“Nna what is the problem...why would you slap this small boy like that?” one woman had asked.

“He called me idiot” he responded and was about walking away. Suddenly I got my voice.

“Idiot, come and slap me again…” I yelled, thinking people around could stand to defend me this time around. I was about to run to the same woman that spoke when he grabbed me again and kicked my buttocks very hard and pushed me roughly. I found myself on the ground wailing helplessly.

“Bobo Oya stop insulting your elders before they kill you o!” the woman said to me. I didn’t want to hear that. I wished someone could just beat up Chiemerie on my behalf. But nobody did.

It was at home that my grandmother saw the finger marks which resulted from the slap all over my face. She went and reported to Chiemerie’s Mother but she did nothing. I mean nothing.

Chiemerie’s Mother was a trouble maker. She fought a lot with other women especially in the marketplaces. My grandmother was quite informed about this so she didn’t take up the matter.

I woke up one Morning and found out that my grandmother was nowhere to be found. I overslept and so every one left the house without informing me. I was very scared. I thought my Siblings left me and returned to our home town.

I opened the door and found everywhere very quiet. I could only hear the hocking sound of distant vehicles plying the tarmac road which was kilometers away. I didn’t know what to think. Could it be that there was war and everybody left me and ran away or could it be that finally rapture had taken place? Which one? I had imagined. I walked from pole to pole searching for people but none was on sight. Everywhere was completely deserted. Even fowls and flocking birds of the air ceased operation that day. What happened? Nothing. It was just my imagination. I was later to realize this.

“Mummy mee...!” I started shouting. “Mummy mee... who saw my mummy? Tell her to come and give me food. I’m very hungry o! Somebody should tell my mummy to bring...” I was still on the floor lamenting when one woman interrupted me. Her name was Patricia.

“What is the matter?” she called out to me.

“Did you see my mummy?” I asked blinking short the tears rolling down my cheek.

“Your grandmother went to the market and your Siblings went to the stream. Now, stand up from the floor and stop crying...” she was still talking to me when people started emerging from different directions going about their normal daily chores. I wondered why I couldn’t see them before now. Later, Mama Patricia called me into her room and gave me handful of tapioca (African salad) which I ate and thanked her.

Soon, my Siblings were back from the stream and later in the day my grandmother showed up. Towards the evening I found out I couldn’t think straight. My head ached. My body temperature grew beyond normal and it was confirmed I had fever. Chiemerie’s hot slap and the stream water which forced its way into my mouth contributed to it.

My grandmother called it ‘change of environment’.

Episode Six.

Three weeks in my maternal home and I had started showing them my true self. That wasn’t my first visit to my maternal home anyway but this one seemed to be the longest stay over there. I got the beaten of my life on several occasions by my age mates simply because I was rude with words and they always fought me in group.

Adaobi, the elder sister to Chiemerie had always been the one to rescue me on several occasions. This made the children insulted her and called her names. She was such a playful adult but I was yet to understand the reason these children insulted her that much and she wouldn’t do anything to shun any of them.

“Achebe hope you’ve eaten today?” she asked me one day. Of course you don’t expect me to say ‘yes’ having perceived she cooked sweet smelling Jollof rice that Morning which was my favorite.

“No” I responded rubbing my tummy as prove of how hungry I was. I ate water Yam that Morning but I wasn’t happy I did.

I never liked it.

“Oya wait for me here.” She said to me as she went for the food. I prayed earnestly in my heart that God should just keep Sopuru away until I was done eating. I didn’t realize how dangerous my prayer was until much later.

“Once you finish eating I’ll teach you book.” She said.

“O” I grabbed the plate of food from her and started eating. She made me sit in between her thighs.

I didn’t know that was a trap. This was what she does to other children that made her lost her respect before them.

Adaobi was around twelve years or more by then. And she was really beautiful. Many times I tried calling her Aunty as a way of showing my respect but she refused it. I wondered, but not too long.

Soon, I was done eating.

“Thank you” I had said.

“Don’t worry. Today you will teach me all that your teacher taught you in school before you came for this holidays...” she was still speaking when my heart jumped. I felt I had eaten poison. I didn’t know anything. I couldn’t even make up a lie to tell about what I was taught in class. I was completely blank of any excuse.

“I want to shit” I lied, holding my buttocks firmly.

“Oya come let me take you to the toilet”

I didn’t like that idea. I had wanted to go alone and from there escape her lesson. She held me by the hand and led me to the toilet building.

I entered and spent almost 30 minutes without removing anything from my buttocks. Even when I forced myself nothing came out.

“Are you eating the shit or removing...”

“I’m coming” I said.

Soon, we were back in the sitting room.

“Show me your head” she said. Immediately my heart ran back to peace. I could recall clearly my nursery school teacher made us recite parts of our body almost every day. My Father even bought the calendar with the parts diagrams and explanations.

“This is my head” I said pointing at my head with shoulders high.

“Good. Clap for yourself”

I did.

“Show me your eyes”

I did.

She continued until it got to my private part.

“Show me your p£nis”

I was shy. I covered my face with both hands.

“Are you shy? Okay let me show you.”

She pulled down my short and held my manhood firmly in her hand.

“This is my p£nis. Oya say it”

I repeated after her. I thought that was all. On opening my eyes she had almost gone naked. I couldn’t contend with what I saw.

She pointed at her chest.

“What is this?” she asked. My heart was racing. I’ve not seen nakedness before.

“Bre@st” I managed to answer.

“Good boy.”

She sat down and opened her legs very wide pointing at her womanhood she asked,

“What is this?”

I was beginning to feel very hot. Honestly, I didn’t have a name for it.

“Your thing” I said with a shaky voice.

“Shut up, it’s called vag¥na. What did I say?”

I repeated after her.

“Have you seen it before?” she asked

I nodded in negative affirmation.

“Oya touch it!”

I felt like I wanted to urinate.

“Don’t be scared. Just touch it” I saw the desperation in her voice and eyes.

I did.

“No. just put your finger inside and you will see something”

I could literally hear the beating sound of my heart. Slowing, I inserted my finger. She took advantage of my innocence. She held my hand and continued to force it inside her body. She was about forcing my head in between her legs when my grandmother called me from home.

“Achebe!” she had called.

She sprang up and forced a wrapper around herself.

“I will buy you more biscuits okay... Just don’t tell anybody about this so that they won’t beat you. If you tell your Mother she will beat you o...!”

“Achebe!” My grandmother called for the second time.

“O!” I answered as I ran out of her room.

My grandmother bought me Agidi and I was about eating when Sopuru approached me,

“Where have you been?”

I didn’t talk.

“I know Adaobi kept you in her room and you are doing that thing with her”

I nearly vomited the Agidi on hearing that. My eyes popped out with surprise.

“Did she ask you to come back?” Sopuru asked.

I didn’t know when I nodded in negative affirmation.

So Sopuru had been making out with Adaobi all this while and I didn’t know about it. I thought. Adaobi was a corrupt child and every child around that village knows her for that. Some parents avoided seeing her with their children having known her to be a harlot in disguise at a very tender age.

Two days later I found myself at Adaobi’s room eating biscuit with my brother Sopuru. The rest was a story.

It was my glutton and love for food that led me into that.

Episode Seven .

I grew fond of following my Father to the market after I returned from my maternal home, but it came with certain terms and conditions.

That was on a Thursday morning. It rained heavily that early morning that made my father’s intention to go to the market practically impossible for him for reasons of bad roads.

So the entire family of eight waited patiently for the subsiding of the heavy downpour over a table of bread and plastic cups filled with mixtures of beverages; tasteless “tea” like we usually complained due to the fact that my father had warned us seriously against too much intake of sugar in a bid to manage diabetes.

We cared less of the disadvantages that accompanies the excessive intake of sugars so we complained and murmured over the “sugarless” tea.

“Manage it that way...” My mother scolded at my frowned countenance.

“Sugar causes sickness” she had said.

“Huuu!” I murmured, took a malice disposition and stood with my tea and bread sitting at a distance from me.

My father gave me that usual wicked look that sends chill down our spines, his eyeballs rounded in agitation and his voice ready to blast like a thunder.

“Gerrrrat...!” he raved as usual.

At this point, my tiny limps took off and carried me to the balcony. Helplessly, I wished my mother brought my tea with an added slices of bread and possibly a few grains of sugars as a consolation gift but she didn’t turn up.

My heart broke.

I could hear my siblings munching their breads and gulping down the contents of their cups with a biased chit-chat of which I was their focal point of discussion.

With the whole strength within me I wept to the attention of neighbors who came around to enquire for reasons.

Their visitation worsened my condition. while I sat pitiable with my legs folded against each other on the ground explaining to Mazi Igine on the reasons why I needed sugar, a strong and an Unexpected lash tore my back from behind. It was my father’s koboko cane.

By now, it was late to run. I went wild unlocking and tunning up to the highest volume of my voice crying, thoroughly regretting all my actions. But I knew father wasn’t ready to listen.

“Sharap, I said...” He shouted at me, pointing the cane across his lips indicating the need to shut up. I held my breath with so much effort, my heartbeat thumping fast and my breath responding accordingly.

“Oya stand up and get inside now...” He commanded. He was still giving the instructions when I sprang to my feet and raced into the bedroom.

I couldn’t cry again. My siblings cast a look at me that made it appear like I was the prodigal one among them.

Soon, my mother walked in, carrying my three slices of bread and a cup of tea. She was about eating one of the slices right before me when I pounce on her demanding for my portion.

By now, I was ready to take the breakfast with or without sugar.

Finally, father was ready for market. He called us to the attention of the one of his most valuable properties; his Black and White TV, whose back cover was of a carton arrangement.

“This TV is not for children. Don’t touch it because if you do, I repeat, if you do...” My father said with so much emphasis,

“You will have me to contend with. In fact, we’ll wear one pair of trousers. Rubbish!” He sighed, walked towards the door with his market bag and slammed the door while all the six of us stood at attention watching and listening to him.

It appeared to me I heard him thoroughly but to my shock my rebellious feelings came alive when NEPA light finally came.

That afternoon, all my siblings were off for one reason or the other and I was left alone. NEPA light came. I couldn’t hold back the excitement. I screamed and celebrated from one corner of the room to another, jumping on all the plastic chairs and even the wooden cushions.

Soon, children began trooping into the sitting room. Obviously, my father was amongst the three people in the entire village who had this Black N White TV. I took so much pride in it as I went about the whole school blocks during school hours boasting and telling stories of films I saw in my father’s TV which literally drew much friends to me and intimidated those whose families had none.

I felt like a king when I saw the children troop into the room. Some had all kinds of repulsive smell ranging from tobacco to smoke to armpit to fecal excrement. Those were the common odors among children of our days.

They sat on the barefloor with so much expectations. I bullied one or two of them that attempted sitting on the plastic chairs or even the wooden cushions ranting and nagging on top of my voice that they were going to spoil our chairs.

They obeyed. My pride wings grew stronger and my neck straightened.

Now everyone was ready for the TV show and I was the one they looked up to turn on the TV.

Meanwhile, we already had an instruction from my stern father not to tamper with the TV while he was away. Those instructions resurfaced but I pushed it behind.

There’s need to prove to those children that I was a big boy among them.

With a stretched right hand and my tiny fingers clutching the “ON/OFF” control buttons I turned on the TV but the worst happened immediately.

The buttons came off from its position indicating it has spoilt yet the TV was still in display.

“Heeey!” The children shouted.

“You have spoilt it...” Some ran outside.

“Ntoor...!” Some said, holding down their lower eyelids with their tiny index fingers in mockery of my mistake.

I didn’t know whether to beg them for help or command them to leave my house. I was ashamed and helpless. How could I beg them when I already bossed them around?

I became so humble and approachable instantly.

“Tochi...please come and help me fix it na...” I finally pleaded. It was as though my tongue stuck to my teeth when he gave me a dry look revealing his unwillingness.

I wanted to cry but I wasn’t going to give up anytime soon so I kept trying to fix the buttons but it refused.

My stomach was heated up with fear and I felt like using the toilet but I preferred enduring the poo to repairing the TV. So I sat there sweating profusely under a cold weather calculating the next step to take.

Suddenly, my elder my brother walked in, saw the TV switched On and gave me a serious knock on my head. but that didn’t feel like anything so long as he will later fix the TV.

My brother’s head-knock is better than my father’s presence.

Calmly, he took up the button and gradually fixed it back into it’s position effortlessly and switched it off.

Like a chilled water on my head, my spirit returned back into position and my heart speedily revamped.

I went outside, met the other children and decided never to intimidate them again with my father’s TV.

....

One day I woke up and found out that my parents had all gone to the market. They promised me the previous night that I would be going with them to cut my hair for the new session. Could it be that I overslept out of excitement or was drugged? This has never happened before. Me? to oversleep and forget about market, Never!

“Mummy!”

Nobody answered.

“Mummy eee!” again, no one answered. I sat on the floor looking at the clouds depressed. I was still thinking about the next step to take when I noticed a shift in the clouds. I saw a being standing with two arms widely open. On the left hand was a sword and on the right hand was a weighing balance. I didn’t make any move as I sat transfixed watching the being as the clouds gradually covered it like a smoke. It was in the later years that I understood the meaning of what I saw.

As if something came over me, I stood up, ran to the backyard and packed some left over palm kernel nuts which probably dropped from the ones my Mother went to the market with. I bagged it and ran off. I was going to the market.

I was almost at the main road when I saw my uncle Mr. Bonny. My heart shook on seeing him because I knew he may not permit me to continue on my journey knowing very well I was just a kid.

He started laughing.

“Where are you going to?” he asked with a smile.

“Market” I responded reluctantly.

“Market? With who?” He said as he looked searchingly behind me to see who was coming, but no one.

“Where is your Father?”

“Gone to market”

“So…”

“I’m supposed to go with them to cut my hair. School will soon resume.” I said with a frown.

“Go back home my friend…”

“No!” I replied sharply.

“I said…” he grabbed me and placed me on his bike. ‘Zoom!’ he drove off.

The next five to ten minutes was spent on his bike, with no one talking to each other.

At home, I was very surprised to see my Mother back from the market. People around the village had gathered in our compound. They were all looking for me. I was lost.

“Where did you see him?” my Mother had asked on seeing me alight from the bike.

“At Afoama” Uncle Bonny said with a smile. Afoama was the name of the junction my uncle found me. My Mother looked at me and made a mockery smile at me.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked.

“Palm kernel nuts”

“O! You want to sell my palm nuts and eat the money abi?” My Mother said.

That wasn’t what I planned. I wanted to have a reason for going to the market and that was why I had the palm nuts with me.

Everybody in the compound was laughed and made mockery of me. Very ashamed, I ran into the room.

....

As I grew with the unfolding days, weeks, months and years I found out I had interest in business.

Mama Kelechi was a woman I admired so much. She would always pass through our backyard every Morning rushing to the bakery to buy some bread which she retails in return. She was a very hardworking woman. Every Morning, I saw Nwaekerekwu her son hawking bread and bean cake (Akara balls). My Father always compared him to us. He would always tell us that it was our laziness that made us wake up very late compared to the hard working Nwaekerekwu who woke up as early as 7am to hawk his Mother’s market.

I was challenged.

One Morning I woke up and told my Mother I want to start a bread business. At first it sounded weird. But much later she saw reasons with me. She gave me some money which I ran off with to the bakery.

I was really making some money from my bread business at the age of nine but it didn’t last as something else took over my ambition.

By the next year, I was going to travel and leave my bread business.

....

One Morning I came back from the bakery and my Father called me that someone came to see me. It was a woman in her late sixties. She was short and looked cheerful.

“Sit down” my Father said. I obeyed.

“Do you know this woman?” he asked. Of course, he wasn’t expecting me to say ‘yes’ to that.

I nodded in negative affirmation. He smiled.

“Well, she is mama Ngozi. Her daughter Ngozi stays in the City and would like you to come over there and stay with her.”

My heart jumped. I didn’t know what my reaction should be. I was calm but bubbling inside of me with joy.

“And she said she will train you in school. Hope you will go with her”

“Yes” I responded shyly.

“Good. Go and gather your clothes. You are leaving with her immediately”

My Siblings were very excited. Going to the city was one big dream every child dreamt in my Community. People who had been there once told us a lot of stories that stirred us to long for it. I imagined myself seeing airplanes, ships, big cars and big houses.

The tea and bread I was supposed to take as breakfast lost its grip on me. I saw it as nothing as I handed it over to Sopuru who rushed over it before I changed my mind.

With a sack bag I squeezed some of my wears into it. Fellow children came running into our compound. The news had so quickly spread. I was travelling to the City. Some parents came to wish me journey mercies. I felt like I shouldn’t go again when I saw how much my friends were going to miss me.

I forced my feet into my outgrown sandals. My heels almost touched the bare floor. My protruded tummy hung my polo at a certain level exposing the lower part of my tummy. I didn’t bother because I was promised a lot of clothes by mama Ngozi.

As we left the compound, Adaugo my younger sister began to cry and wave me good bye.

I felt like a sheep on the way to slaughter.

Episode Eight.

It was really a busy road.

I could see humans, trees, grasses and vehicles moving backwards as our bus moved forward. That wasn’t completely new to me. I had seen that severally when my Father took me to the village market by bus. I saw tall and big houses that couldn’t be found anywhere in my village. Most at times in the bus I felt like sticking out my arm to wave at the people shouting “Park! Park!” One of the girls selling oranges came to my sitting position and was trying so hard to convince me to buy her goods. I felt like the boss but I didn’t have money to patronize her.

“It’s a sweet orange. You will like it. Just taste it”

She kept talking.

I looked at the woman I was travelling with but she was already fast asleep. Snoring like my Father. I thanked my stars it wasn’t dark. Most of the nights I slept in my Father’s room I felt like shouting for help each time he started snoring. It scared me to the bone. Sometimes, I pinched him he would wake up, adjusted his body and then continued snoring.

It got to a point I became pressed. My bladder was filled up and was seeking for an ejection. I tapped Mama Ngozi; the woman I was travelling with and complained to her but she turned me down and told me to be patient, that the journey won’t be long before we arrive. She went back sleeping. I could feel drops of urine trickling down my trousers. I held myself tight hoping that the bus would spoil so that I could jump down and ease myself.

The people in the bus were quiet until one woman began to scream. Her child was convulsing. Mama Ngozi sprang from her sleep holding me tight hoping nothing had happened to me.

“What is it?” she had asked. I pointed at the shouting woman and her face followed the direction. People had already gathered around her, fanning and praying for the child. Fortunately for me the bus stopped. The driver ordered the woman to come down, and guess what? That was an opportunity I had been waiting for. I jumped down, grabbed my zip and emptied myself.

Few hours later after we hit the road again, the bus stopped. I saw some rough-looking young men running towards us begging to carry our loads even when the door to the bus had not been opened.

“Don’t worry madam, I go carry your load for you” one of them had said. He smelt badly. Like someone who took tobacco. He had a scruffy hair and ragged clothes.

“Wait oo!” mama Ngozi had shouted. “Let me come and show you my own before you carry another man’s load.” Mama Ngozi was still speaking when one of them grabbed the load and was about taking it to his bike when another began to drag it with him.

“I say make you leave this bag. You no dey hear abi?”

“Guy, you dey craze abi. You think say you dey clever. No be me wey first tell that woman say I wan carry her load for am”

They exchanged words and almost began to fight over our load. Other touts gathered to support the fight. They enjoyed watching others fight. It gave them so much pleasure. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw one of them raised a bottle on the head of the other. Others shouted,

“Hey! You don kill am... you don kill am oo!”

The man felled helpless on the floor bleeding profusely through his nose and eyes. Mama Ngozi immediately took me by the hand and we ran from them, leaving our load behind.

Soon, military men gathered around the scene and everybody hastily scattered in different directions. Mama Ngozi later called an Ina-aga man who went and carried our load.

We got to the house of Mama Ngozi’s daughter around 5pm in the evening. It was a face-me-I-face-you yard. I could see heaps of dirt and garbage littered within the compound as children of my age went about the compound on their routine chores.

Some of the children even came out in groups to see the stranger. Me.

Mama Ngozi’s daughter came out to welcome us. She wasn’t completely surprised seeing us. Probably expecting us.

“Nne m o!” she shouted with her hands over her mouth. She didn’t move to welcome us. It was another boy of my age that came to welcome us. He was my cousin brother by name Obum. It was later I found out that Obum would be travelling to Michigan and that was the reason my attention was needed badly by Mama Ngozi’s daughter to replace his responsibility as a babysitter.

Obum collected the bag from me which seemed to be lighter than our load; containing locally processed cassava, tapioca and so many other edibles including vegetables.

“How are you people doing?” mama Ngozi had responded.

“We’re fine o!” she said as her teeth shone.

“And your husband?”

“We thank God. Is this the person you brought to replace Obum?” she asked pointing at me with a little feeling of disapproval. Her countenance revealed it.

“Yes.”

“But I asked you to bring me a girl”

“You shouldn’t blame me. His younger sister Adaugo refused to leave her Mother’s sight. Their excuse was she was still younger and needed Motherly care before she can be allowed with the responsibility of babysitting. Besides she can’t even take care of herself let alone taking care of another. Its better we make use of the one we have. I’m sure with time he’ll cope.”

“Why didn’t you check another place?” she asked with worries in her voice.

“Nobody was willing to give out their children for me. They feared the possibility of losing their children into the hands of child traffickers. I tried everything possible to make them understand this”

“Didn’t you tell them you’re related to Mr. Ibeke?”

Ibeke was my Father’s native name.

“Even those of them from our own compound refused releasing their girl child after all my best explanation to them. Just manage this boy well and most importantly, make sure he continues his education. Very important. I promised his Father” she said as she walked into the sitting room to greet Mr Francis, the husband of my new Madam. He was tall, crooked from his hips down to the sole of his feet. I was later told by Obum that he had an accident that got him badly squeezed. He barely survived it.

“My in-law, in-law, in-law you’re highly welcome. Please sit.” He gestured a seat to us with his finger.

At first I couldn’t believe my eyes when we first entered. I’ve never seen that kind of human being all my life. He was tying a wrapper around his waist exposing his pot belly and chest; chest which was more of a woman’s breast. Honestly, I felt like addressing him as a woman at first. But it occurred to me he was the husband of my new Madam. He hardly sat on a chair. Always either resting on the bed with his back or sitting on it with his sticky legs placed on the table before him. His cheekbones were very pronounced and that gave him a feminine veneer.

“How are village people?”

“They are fine o! They even extended their greetings to you. Some of them are even planning on how and when to come over and see your new baby boy”

“Eh, wow, well, I’ll be expecting them. My door is always open...”

“Aunty I heard your Mother from the village came today?” A female voice said. She was a neighbor.

“She is in the sitting room. She even brought me a replacement for Obum.”

“Eh! So, Obum would soon be leaving us” she said as she came over to the sitting room. She was a dark lady at her late twenties.

“Mama welcome. Wey bread?” she said as she beamed a smile on me while still talking with Mama Ngozi.

“Nne how are you?”

“I’m fine ma, Just hunger, is this the new boy?” she asked pointing at me.

“Eyo!”

“Huh, hope you’ll be as humble and obedient as Obum” she was referring to me but I didn’t know what to respond. I kept mute. All I could do was to admire the dimples that appeared on her cheeks each time she spoke. I used to think dimples appeared on cheeks only when people laughed but this aunt’s own was very different. It appeared even when she talked and that made her incredibly beautiful.

“Obum your brother is a good boy. Better be nice so that people will like you here okay.” She said. I found myself nodding in affirmation.

My madam’s name was Blessing. But sometimes people who knew her closely called her Ngozi.

She was a Federal Government worker and so every Morning she would instruct us on what to do and what not to do. She made us hold our ears firmly while she advised us on the dangers of the streets.

“You people should not go far and leave my son Ebuka behind. Obum, better tell him how rough this street is so that he’ll be cautious of who he mingles with people. Very soon, you’ll start school”

My heart cheered up when I heard I would soon begin school. I already started imagining the kind of people I was going to meet. People from well to-do homes. Children whose Fathers drove them to school every Morning in big and fine cars.

Ebuka learned to walk not too long before I arrived. I remembered how I used to pinch Adaugo each time she cried and now here am faced with responsibility of consoling a weeping child. Each time Ebuka felled while trying to run or play around with other kids he cried so much and that really made me very uncomfortable. It drove me very crazy each time I wanted to console him and he cried the more. I would carry him at my back, pampering and singing all kinds of song just to keep him calm, yet he kept wailing on top of his voice. The most annoying part was that Ebuka hardly had a good reason to cry most at times.

The fact his Mother pampered him so much gave him so much gut to demand for literally anything he saw. If he saw another child with a new toy, suddenly he would develop interest. He would insist on getting it from the child or you buy him his own. His Mother had no problem with that because the money was available.

This was Ebuka’s character until his Mother registered us both in school. It wasn’t long Obum travelled to Michigan leaving me with the troubles of Ebuka and his Father.

Soon, I got used to the environment. I became friends with other neighbors and mostly the children. I played a lot. My madam didn’t like it because I woke up most of the Morning with my trousers or shorts soaked with urine. And the unfortunate thing was I slept with Ebuka on the same bed. He would be the one to suffer most of the wetness. My madam beat me severally about it until I learnt a trick to cover up my mistakes.

Each Morning I woke up with urine all over my clothes I would immediately exchange Ebuka with my position.

Episode Nine.

I woke up from sleep one Monday Morning to the realization that I was going to start school that day. Yes, my madam had said something about that earlier but it never occurred to me it was going to come too soon. Neither was Ebuka who hadn’t been to school for the first time was happy. He cried all throughout his bath. It didn’t bother me much because it happened to me on the day I started school. Children always cry at their first day in schools. It was normal. His food and water was kept in a plastic basket which he would eat during break period.

Soon, we were at the school premises.

It was a large hall demarcated by black boards of tripod stands. If you stood outside the building you could literally see all the four classes side by side. Two by the left and two by the right. I was later told that the hall contained only primary three to six. From kindergarten to primary two was located in a building different from that one.

By then I was supposed to be in primary four but I was asked to repeat primary three.

“Good Morning big Aunty” My madam’s sister, Nda Chichi greeted the Proprietor. She was a tall and huge woman who looked very mean. I didn’t like her sight. The thought of Aunty Nkechi of my kindergarten days flashed back to my memory.

“Morning Nne, kedu?” She responded with a question but in her dialect.

“Fine ma. I came to register them.” She said as she pointed at us.

“Good. You are welcome. Let’s go to my office.”

We started heading towards the direction we came. I wondered where we were going only to be met with the answer unexpectedly.

“We are going to our new site. There, I have my new office and also planning on building more structures that can accommodate more students... By the way what class is the bigger one supposed to be?”

“Primary four. And the younger, a beginner”

“How sure are we he is competent enough to continue with primary four? Do you have any of his last term result from his formal school?”

Nda chichi looked at me, expecting me to respond either yes or no. I nodded negatively.

“No.”

We walked silently until we entered her office. It was a structure still under construction. I could see a metal board with an inscription:

Apulmio nursery, primary and secondary school.

Umuasonye Street, Orji.

MOTTO: excellence and integrity.

Nda chichi read it loud to my hearing.

“Sit” she said.

We did.

“You said you don’t have his statement of result from his formal school?”

“Yes. But, must we get it before he can register?”

“No. Only necessary if he must continue from primary four. But since he doesn’t have it I can only pardon him to continue from primary three. Because we don’t know his past performance”

I thanked my stars they didn’t insist on the report of my past academic performances, otherwise I would have been asked to repeat primary one.

“To repeat primary three?”

“Of course.”

“Well, if that’s the case no qualms. Since he is still a small boy no need to worry”

That rang in my brain. Small boy? I clocked ten years by June 11. And that was three months ago. And here she was calling me a small boy. I was still lost in thought when I heard my name,

“Achebe. Yes. Orie Achebe” Nda Chichi said. The proprietor was busy with her pen on the long thick cover notebook which served as the school record book.

Nda Chichi provided all the necessary data about me as demanded by the proprietor.

Next, they focused on Ebuka and before you knew it they were done.

“Sir Dike!” the proprietor called. He was just about to enter a class room when the proprietor interrupted him.

“Please take Achebe to primary three class”

“Guess he’s new here?”

“Of course, yes. Both of them. This one will join the nursery section”

I followed sir Dike as he led the way to primary three classroom.

“Excuse me Aunty” sir Dike called the attention of primary three teacher, Miss Ada. The entire class focused towards our direction. From any point in any of the classes you could see vividly what was happening in other classes. I held myself strong. Still, I shivered from the Ocean of eyes that pried my direction. At one glance in one direction I saw group of girls making mockery and despiteful faces at me.

“You have a new pupil. He’s name is Achebe Orie. By next month his Aunty promised he would get his own desk. For now, he should attach with somebody”

“No problem. Achebe welcome. Class, from today Achebe Orie is one of you okay”

“Yes Aunty” they chorused.

“What do you have to tell him, class?”

“You are welcome to Apulmio nursery and primary school” They chanted.

“Very good. Please who can accommodate him temporarily until he gets his own desk?”

Everywhere became grave silent. They kept looking at each other as though they already had somebody in mind.

“Kingdavid...please accommodate him okay” Miss Ada pleaded.

He nodded positively.

Sir Dike heaved a deep sigh of relief and left.

Kingdavid was handsome and looked very rich and well fed. I felt intimidated sitting closer to him but at the same time I felt compelled because I had no choice.

Miss Ada continued with her teaching but my pounding heartbeat couldn’t allow me concentrate.

Some weeks later, I had grown used to the new school environment and its system.

One day in class, we were reading primary English today textbook for primary three. It was a turn by turn reading. It started with Adanne the girl sitting at the first seat in the front row. Juliet followed. Chikwado followed. It was gradually getting to where Kingdavid and I were sitting.

“Clap for him”

We did.

“You. Next”

He stood up and read.

My blood became very hot. The beads of perspiration that dropped from my smooth cheek explained better. I knew this was another moment I would have to face heart attack.

“You. Kingdavid, read”

As he was reading I managed to cram the first few lines of sentences in the ‘Reader’ as pronounced by Kingdavid.

“Eze and his Father goes to farm every Saturday. They planted yam and cassava”

That was the few I could easily cram and held it so tight and kept reciting it in my spirit over again and again.

“You. Achebe, Oya read”

I didn’t have my own textbook so I collected that of Kingdavid.

“Eze and his Father goes to farm every Saturday. They planted yam and cassava” I wasn’t even sure about the pages that contained the sentences I read. The actual sentence should be on page five but my eyes were on page six. I got to know when Kingdavid redirected my eyes with his biro.

“Ehe! Is that all?” Miss Ada asked. She never thought she had a dummy in her class until that very moment. She couldn’t believe her ears.

“We’re waiting Mr. Man.”

When I heard the intonation with which she spoke I knew it wasn’t going to sit well with me at that moment.

“Eze and his Father, were go to,” obviously, I was tired. I couldn’t continue any more. I was ready for it.

“Are...you...stupid” she said.

Each of her words was accompanied by a stroke of cane.

“This...your...olodo... head...must...work...today...” the cane kept turning all over my body.

I just found myself few minutes later on my knees on the floor covered with shells of kernel nuts. I watched others as they read theirs like it didn’t mean anything to them. Me? It meant a lot. I went home that day very ashamed of myself. It got so bad that most students didn’t want to associate with me. They said I was Itiboribo (dummy).

I was on my knees for over forty five minutes. I became pressed. I needed to use the toilet; to urinate. I was struggling on the floor thinking about the right grammar to use in order not to incur more of the teacher’s wrath upon myself. I waited patiently for an opportunity. Suddenly, Juliet was going to ease herself.

“Excuse me Aunty can I ease myself?” she said. The Aunty nodded in approval. I crammed the line of words she used and recited it over and again.

Suddenly two students in the higher class started fighting. They were fighting over a sheet of paper that was torn by an unknown person. They drew my attention and there was uproar in the entire hall.

Juliet was back. It was my turn to go but I forgot the lines of grammar that Juliet used. Those boys had deceived me. If I had known I wouldn’t have paid any attention to them. It was as though my bladder was going to explode anytime soon. I couldn’t help but to try out the best grammar I could make up,

“Piss, I want to piss. Aunty I want to piss.” I said as I pointed at my ‘thing’ expecting Aunty to understand what I was saying.

“Shege, waka, banza” the Aunty rained curses on me, displaying her five fingers on my tiny face. As though that wasn’t enough, she began to flog me calling me names and making joke of my grammar. All I could do was cry and ran out of the class. The next minute, I saw myself at the back of school, urinating.

I got home that day and began disturbing my Aunty to get me the recommended textbooks. She agreed. After two days the books were in my hands. Only heaven could explain how grateful I was.

And I began to read even though I wasn’t sure of what I was reading but I continued.

That term, I refused to engage in any social or religious activities.

I struggled so much with reading. All I could do every night was cry bitterly and ask God to bless me with intelligence. My classmates, especially the girls were making mockery of me.

One night, after dinner I prayed and decided to struggle with my books as usual. Few hours after I had struggled with pronouncing a word, It was as though a fish scale felled off my eyes and I saw myself reading. I mean reading very fluently. I doubted myself over and again. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, so I stepped out of the room and engaged other young neighbors who were equally reading. I began to compete with them all of a sudden. At that point, my life took a new turn. I knew it in my spirit that something was unlocked. I couldn’t handle the flow of joy.

Going to school the next day was the best experience of my life, for I now had the ability to challenge those that mocked me.

The next day at school, I wanted to show teacher Ada that my level had changed.

“Good morning aunty” I said with a broad smile.

“Morning. Uhu, what can I do for you?” her mouth kept working tirelessly on the groundnut seeds trapped in between her molars.

“We are going to read English today?” That didn’t come out well. Teacher Ada gave me a dry look that shrunk the smile on my face.

“Will you return quickly to your seat, idiot. Bush boy. Ordinary English you couldn’t speak, now you want to stress me to start teaching olodo like you.”

With a heavy heart I dragged my feet back to my seat.

Soon, the term was over and we collected our results. Guess what! I came 10th position out of 45 students.

I got home and my Aunty was mad at me. She thought I was better than that, not knowing I ‘was’ only a bag of cassava decorated with coconut when it comes to academics.

“Next term, make sure you come home with a better result.” She said with a stern look on her face. I knew she meant it.

“O,” I responded. That was not a proper way to respond to elders but I was yet to learn that.

By the end of second term, I returned home with 3rd position. By 3rd term, I went home with 6th position. I was distracted by a little beautiful girl in my class. I admired her so much with my soul. That girl never lost sight of 1st position all the while. Miserable me!

Episode Ten.

Her name was Stella. She’s our neighbor and a dedicated member of a group of believers in a Catholic Church known as the Block Rosary.

One day she came and told me about it. At first, I didn’t show any interest because I didn’t actually know exactly what she was talking about. My Aunty did. It was by her consent that I decided to join Stella to the fellowship.

The first day seemed like nothing to me. I saw other teenagers who came for the fellowship jumping from one corner to another. I was feeling a bit disappointed because I taught it was going to be more like a Church. Here they are, arranging their table with different colors of ribbon, flowers, candles and statue of an image they assumed was Virgin Mary the Mother of Jesus, under the blank sky. Other smaller children gallantly jerked long wooden seats and arranged them in an orderly manner.

They began to sing worship song unto Mother Mary.

Soon, they made me introduce myself after which they introduced me to someone who would guide me step by step on how to say the Rosary. I was given a Rosary bead and told to use it in my Morning and Night prayers. I agreed.

After three weeks I was becoming a fanatic in the matters of Chaplet and Virgin Mary. My Aunty couldn’t understand the speed with which I followed. Even Stellar at some point was scared. By 5pm every evening I would be disturbing her for Block Rosary.

But something dangerous happened not long after.

My zeal grew so strong that the fellowship almost made me a leader but for the fact that I have not confirmed and baptized into Catholic doctrine. I was a baptized member of Anglican Church.

One night after praying with my Chaplet, I told virgin Mary to reveal herself to me the same way she did to the three worshippers; Jacinta, Francisco and Lucia in Fatima. I felt her presence so strong in my room. I was so scared I couldn’t look back or even shake my body because I knew she really visited me that night. When I finally slept, I saw myself climbing the imaginary mountain inside the moon going to pick a Maize of golden color. Before I could get there I woke up. I wasn’t happy I couldn’t pick that Maize.

It was in the later years I got to understand that moon represents a strong feminine energy and corn represents abundance and prosperity. Do you still remember that if you take a look at the crown of Blessed Virgin Mary, it has stars and moon surrounding it? That is to say, that the spirit of Blessed Mary visited me that night and gave me a blessing according to my believe.

One day I was called up to sing in the fellowship. I came out and boldness from nowhere took over me. As I began to sing, the fellowship members began to cry. I saw some of the ladies fall under the anointing weeping genuinely. Barely did I know those ladies where going to be the Delilah that would bring me down.

I was a young zealous child of God without direction, without purpose, without a mentor and I crashed sooner than I knew it.

Not long, the fellowship sisters began to do some ungodly things, said some dirty words around me and made it sound like it’s normal. I was just a boy. I didn’t understand most of their words but I continued with them because Stella was one of them. After some time they began to hug me. Honestly, their nipples pierced so hard on my chest that I nearly screamed for help.

“What the hell was that?” I asked myself in one of those occasions. A dirty appetite was gradually creeping out of nowhere in my soul. I couldn’t place my hands on what it was but I felt it was in similitude to the feeling I had from what my maternal big Aunty made me do many months ago.

Anointing kept flowing during the fellowship each time I sang. The young sisters kept drawing closer to me like a goat following a man with a palm frond. I thought it was mere likeness, little did I know it was meant for destruction.

Sister Stella began to talk to me about kissing. She told me how she saw her elder brother doing that to another female and she has been meaning to try it out with anybody to know what it feels like. Before I could recover from my imagination her lips were all over my face. I didn’t understand what she was doing. She kept pressing until I kept calm for her to now begin to eat my lips like there was anything so special about it. She held me drown in her lust that I thought she was going to die.

We heard some footsteps some distance away and she left me and ran away. I felt so disgusted. I began to wipe her spit scattered all over my face with the back of my palms. I thought that was all until I got home.

My hunger for God was stolen by another appetite. I saw myself approaching Stella for veiled reasons. She still thought it was fellowship. That was a long time feeling. Love for fellowship wasn’t strong again in me. Even the days I agreed to go to fellowship was now for the sake of Stella. I had wished in my heart she should just hug me as usual. And any day she did that I would never want to let her go. It became easy initiating a kissing, enjoying every bit of it.

It wasn’t long I started begging her for Practical sex and of course she didn’t refuse me. That was how my soul began to ramble into dangerous territories that had the highest statistics of destroying kings and lords of the earth. I heard that line from a popular Catholic priest.

Another cousin brother of mine came from the village to stay with us. After some time he began to expose me into other deeper dimensions of immorality. One night when everyone must have slept. He woke up and told me to come and see a movie in the sitting room. Sleep ran out of my eyes immediately because I loved to see movies. On getting there what I saw on the screen shifted something in me. I had never seen that kind of horror before. A man and a woman were completely naked having sex. He began to laugh and told me to keep quiet. My spirit was extremely quiet. My soul was immersed and my body was sweating profusely as though I just finished eating hot Nsala soup. After that night, I entered into a new realm of existence.

Episode Eleven.

Things were no longer smooth with me. I began to desire for unnecessary things. At that tender age I began to think about the kind of woman I want to marry. I began to imagine the kind of mansion I would build any time soon. My greed grew so much that I nearly dropped out of primary school to become a wheelbarrow pusher in the marketplaces in the quest to make quick money. Thank God for my Aunty that slapped hell off my eyes.

I began to move from street to street in search of brick laying jobs. It wasn’t long I found one. Carrying blocks from the first floor to the third floor wasn’t easy due to the littleness of my size and strength. But that didn’t fetch me as much money as I had wanted. I joined my friend to start pushing wheelbarrow in the marketplaces. I was enjoying it a little due to the fact money came to me faster with less energy unlike the case of carrying blocks of sand.

“Barrow! Barrow! Barrow!” I shouted as I moved from one street of the market to another seeking patronage.

“Hey! Barrow boy!” I heard behind me. After I loaded my Barrow pan with the woman’s belongings and off, I went to her specified direction. The path was very muddy and slippery as it rained the previous night. Honestly, I regretted travelling through that path, as I struggled with the woman’s load that felled several times inside the mud water. The woman was not happy with me as she shouted and rained abuses at me for messing her loads up without even considering my looks.

It continued this way for a long time.

The worst of it was that I couldn’t save enough of the money I made because before the market closed I must have eaten almost half of the money.

Each day that came, I was looking out for possible ways to make more money and increase my savings but the more I labour the less I gained. I grew thin and weary, almost about giving up when another alternative came.

My friend told me what he normally did to bring customers his way.

“I will tell you, but only promise me you won’t betray me” Godwin said.

“I won’t.” I said with a mixed feeling, not knowing what to expect.

“A herbalist gave me this secret.” He said.

My heartbeat skipped.

“Bring a red neck lizard, cut off the head and place any ring in the mouth of the lizard and bury it for seven days. Bring it out after seven days and wear it before you go for your Morning hustle.” He said, with a very low tone as he looked into my eyes expecting an amateur reaction. I disappointed his expectation.

“You mean once I wear the ring people will start coming to patronize my Barrow business?” I asked.

“Not just that, any money that touches that ring is doubled automatically.”

My eyeballs almost felled to the ground.

“You mean if I casually touch the ring with any money, it doubles?”

“Yes. That’s what I have been doing to make the money I used in buying my new bicycle. I’m even planning on buying another bicycle.”

I almost felled off the seat out of greed. My heart began to scan the future for the many things I wanted to achieve at the age of thirteen. Cars, houses, hotels and so many thoughts that flashed through my porous mind.

The neighbors wondered what came over me when they saw me chasing after red neck lizard. I succeeded in catching one, chopped off the head and buried it with the ring. After seven days, the stench couldn’t even let me touch the ring but I was committed to using it, so I didn’t relent.

That was the usual market day. I wore the ring and left for the market expecting miracles.You won’t believe it. Nothing different happened that day. I felt used. Out of exasperation, I gullied my way home, fuming like a castrated dog.

“You told me this ring was going to work! What happened?” I guess my eyes were red when I said this.

“What happened?” he asked, shining his irritating incisors.

“Nothing happened” I almost wept on saying this.

“It means you didn’t do it the way I told you. I said you should first of all have sex with a girl, and then speak to the ring before using it. Did you do it that way before...”

“Did you just say I should first of all sleep with a girl? By what means am I supposed to do this?”

“How am I supposed to know? But I did it and it worked for me. So, be a man. That’s what it takes to be rich”

My heart dislodged into my stomach. The thought of Stella gradually crept into my wacky mind and began tugging at my reproductive organ.

Even after meeting with the easy-going Stella nothing still showed forth from the ring. I needed not bother my friend again.

Godwin bought a new bicycle a week later and visited me. Immediately I saw it I felt so unworthy of myself. I wanted to have my own bicycle and brag around with it.

That afternoon he carried me on his bicycle and we went to the field where he thought me how to ride.

I came back in the evening, on entering the room saw two pieces of a thousand notes. My heart jumped. Quickly, I picked the money and pretended like nothing happened.

“I will soon have a bicycle” I said to myself.

The next day I went to my neighbor’s house. His Mother was a tailor. I was just testing some of the clothes that people brought to be mended for them when I mistakenly put my hand in one of the suit pockets and found some money. I didn’t let the boy know about it as I quietly left that environment. In the evening, the woman whose money I stole came to our house after which her son told her how I came, testing some of the customer’s clothes. She was really mad at me and pleaded with me to return all the money. I had wanted to deny it if not for the fact she spoke with so much assurance and confidence that the money was with me. I shamefully returned it to her.

Meanwhile, I denied having any idea about the missing two thousand naira in our house. My cousin brother who owned the money did all he could to make me confess but I played hard to stay focused on my point of lies.

Three days later I went to the market with Godwin and bought a new bicycle with all the money I had gathered from both stealing and hustling. I was happily riding it about with all guts not minding what anyone had to say. I never knew my Aunty had been looking for a way to return me to the village. Finally, that opportunity came. They needed no one to tell them I was the one stealing all the missing money in the house.

After writing my standard six exam I was going to return to my village. My aunty warned.

It was on Friday early Morning, my Aunty woke me up and told me to stand up and arrange my luggage. She was returning me to my parents before I put her into trouble. She said.

That was how I found myself in the village once more.

BOOK TWO

Episode one.

My Father wasn’t happy with me at all. Of course I wasn’t expecting him to be. No Father would be happy to have such a useless son. But I wasn’t useless, just been driven by my over aspiration. Even Uncle Bonny wasn’t happy with me when he was told. He nearly called off his pledge to train me in school. Thanks goodness, it didn’t happen.

People came visiting our house to check on me; to see how fresh and good looking I was as a township boy. Some said I looked bigger and better while others said I looked taller and thinner. Trust people.

“Hope you didn’t forget to buy us gift while coming back?” one of them had asked.

I didn’t know what to respond reason being there was nothing for them. My Aunty didn’t bother buying me anything new.

It wasn’t long I resumed my normal village activities. Five years in the city changed much about me. Or rather, I allowed myself to be changed.

I started out with my village friends again. The bush rat hunting took a new shape. A fresh one at that, especially now that Achebe was back. We could spend the entire day wandering the bush hunting the rats.

My Father desperately sought for a way to separate me from the village boys in order not to be more foolish like he had feared. He began to make inquiries about boarding schools. Finally, he came up with one and told me to start preparing.

We just returned from rabbit hunting.

“Hold the leg.” I told Chinecherem as I was dissecting the roasted meat.

“Wooo! It’s very hot. Let me use a piece of cloth” He said as he rushed to get a piece of cloth. Sopuru and others were busy with arranging the fire and pots for making a meat soup fondly called pepper soup. We needed a scentleaf. John rushed to their compound and brought some. Normally, we were supposed to share responsibilities as touching the condiments contribution but my Mother almost had all and luckily, she wasn’t around and so, we were eager to sacrifice my Mother’s cooking ingredients in our meat soup.

“The head is mine. I saw the hole” Eze said. Nobody argued having known the tradition.

“Please I’ll like to share the jaw with you” Neche said.

“The tail is mine, being the person in charge of roasting” I said.

“Me too” John said.

That was how we kept talking until the meat was finally done.

Barely did we know that my Father was somewhere watching and listening to all our conversation.

“Achebe, is this why you refuse to stay in the city?” My Father said. His eyes were very mean and brown. I knew anytime his countenance turns this way, it doesn’t sit well with anybody around including my Mother. My colleagues began to sneak out even before he could finish the first line of statement because they knew what could happen anytime.

“I said, is this the reason you left...” He was still speaking when he grabbed a long wood and flung it at me. I was very clever enough to dodge it and ran into the bush. That was how we lost our almost done pot of meat soup. Don’t get me wrong. I thought he would pour the whole meat away but surprise enough he carried it to the dining and began to feed himself with it. God of mercy! I didn’t know the man was really acting out of hunger.

Anytime my Father was angry he could do anything stupid. My Mother avoided him so much each time he’s angry. On several occasions I heard he fought some elders in a village meeting. Some times during the clearing of village roads. He hated to be intimidated.

It was his anger that made him break our standing fan. One day he nearly smashed our black and white TV out of anger. Thank God one of my uncles grabbed it from him and replaced it.

You don’t go out and come in anytime that pleases you in the house. Anything more than after seven in the evening and you’re still outside, better remain there because that house may not contain the two of you.

On several instances, Sopuru was compelled to sleep on top of a tree because he came home around nine in the evening. My Father not only locked the gate he equally made sure the kitchen was bolted so that he wouldn’t have access to food.

“Go and eat wherever you’re coming from” He would say.

After some weeks I was preparing to go to boarding school. It’s one of the best of its kind in our local government. It was precisely, a seminary school. My Father thought keeping me in boarding school would give me the kind of life he wanted. Well, let’s hope so.

Episode two.

It rained the previous night and that made the Morning ride so cold. I could smell harmattan dust from a distance even though it wasn’t actually its period. From the seat corner anyone could see some children lined up in groups probably headed for schools. I was having a mixed feeling as to whether this children were going to the same school I was going to register very soon. I suddenly realized I was going to be imprisoned there till the end of each term. Far from day-schools.

I was shocked to see fowls, cockerels, turkeys and even dogs inside the so-called school compound. I’ve not been to secondary school before. What would all this animals possibly be doing inside the school compound? It’s meant for humans not animals. Or was there any poultry around? A lot of silly questions crossed my mind. I was later to understand that the principal; a priest, and the teachers who resided inside the school owned them.

A tall and huge building stood adjacent to the principal’s house. They called it the Chapel. It had a tower with a large bell hung from it which can be controlled with a long strong rope. New friends told me they rang the bell by an elderly man every five o’clock in the Morning, for devotion. I was later to understand better.

Coming down from the vehicle my blood jilted. I saw older boys moving around with canes. Could it be they flog too much here? I asked myself. My heartbeat gradually began to race as I helped my Mother unload my luggage. She gave me some pocket money and told me she would be coming every weekend to visit me. I nodded. The senior students ordered the junior ones to help me arrange my bags and carry my six inches spring bed to my allocated corner. They obeyed with excitement. I didn’t know there was more to that. Their assistance was without a cost.

“Welcome boy!” one of the senior students said to me. I didn’t know what or how to respond. I could only nod affirmatively as that was my easiest way of agreement. No long speeches.

“So what do you have for us?” He asked.

I didn’t understand. I was still busy unpacking my belongings.

“O boy, be fast we have other things to do. I said, what do you have for us, since you are still fresh?”

One of the junior students who understood my mood cleared the air for me. His name was Benjamin.

“The seniors want you to give them gift. Anything you have, you can give them so that they can become your friend and not flog you” Ben said. There was a rush in my spirit. I didn’t know when I handed my two big loaves of bread to them. They smiled and rubbed my head the way I do my puppy. I was happy because they were happy, sad because I was coaxed to give against my consent. They left.

“Is this how they force you people to give things?” I asked one of the junior students around.

“Yes. Otherwise they will be flogging you every night.”

His name was Nemerem, fondly called NECO.

“The only way to avoid their disturbance is to have a school Father. Me, I already have two...” Nemerem was saying.

“But just pray you don’t get the bad school Father...” He said, others began to laugh, signaling abnormality.

“What’s funny?” I asked. My spirit was really troubled.

“Nothing o! I didn’t say anything...” They said in disunity and began to disperse to their various bed corners.

I knew there was more to that but I couldn’t actually place my heart on what it was.

After unpacking and arranging my bed corner I went to one of them and enquired why they laughed over the bad school Father matter.

“Well, don’t tell anybody what I’m about to tell you now” He said. I nodded with keen interest.

“Some of the school Fathers sleeps with their son” he said with a giggle. I could count the number of his incisors at that very moment. Still, I didn’t understand.

“Sleep with their son. How?” I asked, looking lost.

“I mean, they have sex together”

“What!” My spirit echoed.

“Don’t tell anybody that I told you. So be careful how you make a school Father”

Immediately, my mind began to picture what it feels for a man to have sex with another man. I knew about that of a man and woman, but man and man, how disgusting that can be. How can they even enjoy it?

That was just my first day as a secondary school boarder.

I was still on my bed meditating on the things I heard when I suddenly heard the sound of school bell. I was told its time for food. I could hear them shuffling their legs as they were rushing for their meal or rather to submit their plate at the refectory. I peeped through the window to the dining hall; it resembled that of a prison yard. My heartbeat skipped.

I saw how they were being flogged for appearing indecent to the dining hall. Some who didn’t wash their spoons were asked to go back to their hostels. Those on bare foot were asked to kneel and lift their hands above their heads. Those without their cups full of water will have their food divided into two. Those chatting while eating will have to receive five strokes of cane.

Discipline was the order of the day.

But, something was missing. Those whose school Fathers were around were not maltreated no matter their offence. A boy could even walk into the hall breaking all the rules without being accosted by any senior.

Why?

He sleeps with the school Father.

That was the only way to prevail in the boarding school I found myself. Hope my parents would understand?

Episode Three.

I love writing stories.

It all began when I was just in primary three. Mind you, it was that primary three that I contacted some thing that some spiritual or religious people might call the spirit of wisdom. I began to read very fluently under no supervision. I began to enjoy reading stories from different sources. In fact, I gradually became addicted to reading literally anything I saw. The habit grew with time. I would write stories and take it to my teacher for correction. He would smile and tell me to keep it up. I wanted to have my stories published and hung on the shelf for people to read but it wasn’t good enough. It was Kingdavid that thought me to read novels. He loved seeing a lot of movies and telling stories. We spent better time together discussing the Disney movie “Lion King”. He could tell every part of that movie. I enjoyed his company, but that was before I came back to the village.

Now, in junior secondary school the passion came back. I was just in class one when that hunger to write came back. I began to scribble down some inspiration that streamed down my heart. In my little mind I was becoming Chinua Achebe not knowing what it takes to be there. Each story I wrote made sense to me except an educated adult. Hope you know what I mean. Huh!

I would be moving from street to street with my manuscript visiting computer business centers telling them my intention about publishing my stories. They would laugh and tell me to calm down and write something better. I didn’t understand what they were talking about. My class mates told me it was powerful inspirational and a humorous story. They could even gather and discuss my stories. But the elderly ones were saying something completely different.

Five O’clock every Morning the bell goes. The only noise you’ll hear is the shuffling of footwear of the students and their provocative sighing. Some of them would crawl under their beds and continued sleeping to avoid disturbance by the senior students.

Usually, after the Morning devotion all roads led to the classrooms. No one is permitted to go back to the hostel. That was a circle we grew to adapt. Though, wasn’t easy in the very beginning.

The senior students would be moving from class to class checking on those who were sleeping instead of reading. Their punishment was comparable to that of the military. It’s either you are asked to sit on the air, or walk with your two hands or pick a pin or stand with one leg for over two hours. It was a very terrible experience. It became a tough game for me as I didn’t want to be embarrassed by that punishment. I could read, sorry; cram almost every topic in my notebook even before the exams came.

Nnamdi, Stephen, victor, promise, Oko(although Oko wasn’t serious academically) and I became reading partners. We all aspired to stand in the first position at the end of the term.

Each time we entered exam hall Oko would always want to sit around me. He loved copying almost everything I wrote. At the end of the term I came at the top of the class. But he found himself at a very insignificant position. I didn’t know how it happened. Nnamdi took the second place.

I got home at the end of the term and I saw the blush in my Father’s cheek when I showed him my result.

“Who owns this result?” He asked with a feigned seriousness.

“Me” I responded proudly with my right hand on chest.

He constricted his eyeballs as though he wasn’t seeing clearly.

“Is that ‘one’ or ‘eleven’?”

“It’s 1st position, not eleventh” I said, pointing with my finger for clarification.

I knew my Father couldn’t believe it or rather it was difficult for him to believe having known my academic background. He didn’t equally know that my five years in the City turned my academic life around for better.

Back to school, Nnamdi and I continued to be two good friends. We became so intimate that we had to start sharing our private lives and secrets. This was when I first understood what masturbation was all about. He told me how good and pleasurable it was to rub his reproductive organ until you reach orgasm. But he didn’t tell me or rather he didn’t know that a single act of masturbation could drain all his energy spiritually and physically and leave him wandering aimlessly about life. He taught me and I learned. Initially, it wasn’t bondage. I could decide when to do it and when not to do it. But it got to a point where it seemed as if that’s the only way to enjoy life without having to even bother about women. And so I continued, with Nnamdi. We didn’t know another student was equally involved in that act until we caught him stroking himself inside the bathroom one evening. He was begging us not to expose him whereas we equally came to do the same thing he was doing. That was how the three of us became friends. We began to expose our innocent selves to wicked demons we didn’t know about.

One day I was invited by a senior student to the male hostel. I was shocked by what I saw. A junior student was compelled to frolic with another male student. My blood ran cold with fear. I began to fidget whether that was the reason I was summoned. Of course, it was. But I thanked my stars I had a brother from the same community that was equally in that hostel. And so he identified me and told them to let me be.

The seniors even had the guts to invite a prostitute inside the male hostel and had sex with her in turns. My soul began to battle with what I couldn’t explain. They would mount adult videos, watch and practice with the lady they invited. It was a horrible sight.

I thought I had seen it all until I bumped into two guys making love to each other. One was acting the role of the female, shouting and moaning while the other took the male role.

On getting to my hostel, my adrenalin refused to relax. It took me several hours to recover from the shock.

I would say it was God’s mercy and my hunger for excellence that kept me from deep promiscuity otherwise I wouldn’t have been any different from others.

I was still in my second year in junior secondary when I began to trouble my parents to take me away from that school. I didn’t explain the reasons in details.

My Father almost ripped my throat off. But I persisted and soon got what I wanted.

My Father wasn’t happy with the idea but he had to cooperate when I began to tear down my spring bed and destroy my cupboard. Intentionally, I began to destroy all my valuables lying to my Father that it was the handwork of the senior students.

“They seniors bully us a lot and collect our beverages” I said in one of those occasions.

It wasn’t long I won the battle. But the other emotional battle my soul was exposed to remained bigger than me.

Episode Four.

I had successfully changed to new school. It was still a seminary school but not boarding house. I wouldn’t dare go anywhere around boarding school again. I swore to myself.

Every five o’clock, my mum would wake up and boil some water for my bath. She would still give me some transport fare to board a bike to school. I would rush over my meal and find myself in the school compound after two hours of trek from the house. I was going to save enough money through the transport fare. My Mother wasn’t aware. The distance from my house to the school was about 8 kilometers. But I would still get there before the bell goes for assembling for Morning devotion. That was how diligent I was. Though, the school provided a bus for conveyance but the bus only comes occasionally. We didn’t expect it every day. It was either you missed the bus or your space was taken.

It wasn’t long I sat for my junior school exams which was meant to usher me into the senior secondary level. It was successful. It wasn’t long results came out and I went for mine, it was awesome. Because of my rise in academic intelligence, my Father began to suggest I do a science course. Mind you, that wasn’t part of my dream. I never thought about any science course because I wasn’t so good with arithmetics. I admired the law practitioners and I desired to become like them some day. But here, my Father was not just suggesting but persuading me to switch to medicine and surgery.

“You can do it. I know a lot of people in this land today living comfortably because of that course. Your intelligence can beat any course of your choice”

My Father wasn’t considering purpose and passion. His interest was comfort, money and fame. That was really bad.

“But I want to study law. I want to become a lawyer.” I told him.

“Lawyer? Charge and bell. Those people are very hungry. Before they can even call you to bar you must have strong godfathers in top government positions. I don’t even think I have that kind of strength to start bribing my way to get you through the bar. You must study very hard to make your science subjects so that you can become a doctor. I want to be the Father of a medical doctor.”

I wouldn’t blame my Father because that was his level of understanding. I had nobody to give me the right orientation I needed and so I began to give consideration to my Father’s advice. I wanted to make him very proud. I wanted to make him a Father whose son is a medical doctor at the detriment of my passion, desire and purpose on earth. Immediately I took that decision I began to struggle.

Worst of all, I became overly arrogant and full of myself, carrying my head all over the school as someone who would soon become a Doctor. That is what you become when you begin to operate outside your calling and passion. You begin to worship yourself. It was clearly stated in the Holy Scripture that when you think you know something then you actually know nothing (1 Cor. 8v2).

It was no longer about my passion; it was now about my title: Doctor. My friends began to call me by that title even when I’ve not sat for my senior secondary school exam. That was how I lost the track.

I wrote my arithmetic exams, excelling in all of them but the joy was not there. I was only succeeding because I was spending my night reading and studying it over and over again before I could enter the exam hall but satisfaction was not there. I was only satisfied anytime I wrote English exams or any art related subjects, more especially any time I wrote my stories.

Because I always came on top of class, almost half of the girls in the class wanted to have something to do with me in one way or the other. I began assuming the post of the school prefect when I wasn’t elected yet. It drew more attention to me. I didn’t know I was offending some ‘bad boys of the school.’ I was tampering with their girlfriends. Soon, they began to conspire against me. Information got to me that they were planning to harm me during dismissal hours. I wasn’t afraid one bit. I couldn’t place my hands on the source of my confidence. Probably on the numerous girls that surrounded me.

One day, during school hours. The bad boys sent one of their colleagues to come try me out. How it happened I couldn’t explain. But I saw myself nodding life out of that boy. His eyes and lips were thoroughly swollen after that fierce fight. I had never fought that way before.

After that fight, my ego and pride were fertilized. I became the lord of the school. Even the senior students became afraid of me. The number of girls who crushed on me increased. Some of the teachers began to tackle me. They knew I was over stepping the boundaries. Any of the junior classes I entered I expected them to worship me.

My ego drove me to the point where I began to feel I wasn’t supposed to be at the same level with my colleagues. I began to measure myself equal with those at the higher class. And before you knew it I was already disturbing my Father to register me with them for final secondary exams generally known as WAEC (West African examination council).

My school didn’t permit that, so I Planned on relocating to a new school; a community secondary to sit for my senior exams. That was the third school I was going to attend during my secondary education. But my strict father insisted I finished there. I obliged but won the principal’s heart after much persuasion.

Episode five

My faith and hope hung firmly on the promises made to me by my Uncle; Dr. Bonny. He had told me how that I was going to study Medicine and surgery in UNN on account of his political connections. Dr. Bonny indeed was an outstanding icon in the matters of academics as it relates to Know-Who. The other time, he was appointed as the Deputy Rector in one of the State Polytechnics. But that was exactly five years ago. Now, he’s a visiting lecturer in most of the Federal Higher Institutions in Nigeria.

At some point I wished Doctor Bonny were my biological Father. I prided myself so much about the fact that I was soon going to be one of those placed in the government seats as Doctor Bonny. Most of my discussions with friends didn’t end without my mentioning how I was going to study medicine and definitely continue with my Masters in one of the prestigious institutions abroad. I grew a long face any time academic competition such as quiz, debate or any of the likes were mentioned to me. I believed those competitions were meant for the less privileged and therefore, even though I didn’t come from a rich home, my academic continuance was assured.

....

The sun was fast rolling back into its valley when I was coming back from Mama Comfort’s house. My Mother sent me to collect the money she forgot when they met at the meeting that Morning. It was a town meeting. That money was the one Mama Comfort owed her for quite a long time. They had even quarreled severally over that money; three hundred and fifty naira. People had known mama Comfort to be a habitual debtor. And so, it was very difficult giving out your Tomato or Maggi to her even though she promised you gold in return. She came to my Mother last month crying and begging to have her Egwusi (Melon seed) on credit. Her reason was she had laborers working on her farmland that day, which, it won’t be very easy for her rushing down to Nkwo market. My Mother warned her severally before releasing the goods. Getting back the money became a serious trouble.

Coming back that day from Mama Comfort’s house, I juggled from time to time because it was getting very late. Besides, I needed to press my school uniform in preparation for the next day. I loved to appear neat. Girls admired my trouser lines which resulted from the hot ironing.

Half way home I heard people shouting. I stopped to listen hoping it was one of those screaming by old women whenever a hawk attacked a chicken. But this was totally different. The closer I got home the louder the shouts. I concluded people were actually fighting, so I began to run faster to witness the fight. I didn’t like being told a fight by my younger sister. I loved to stand and watch fight so I could tell others how it all started and ended.

On getting home it was a different story. Nobody seemed to notice my presence even when I tried getting closer to interact with Chukwuemeka; a neighbor. They were crying and some stood and clasped their hands around their chests sighing and spitting all the way.

“What happened?” I finally asked my brother Sopuru.

“Nna, they just kidnapped uncle Bonny”

“Eh! Kidnappers. When, where?” my eyeballs reflected the shock in my heart.

“They said he was coming back from work this evening when some boys harassed him, tied him up and escaped even with his car”

For some minutes I was switched off. The only thing I heard was my heartbeat. It was so loud. Many thoughts flashed into my mind but the only thought that was consistent was the one about my academics. It kept reoccurring over and over again in my heart. I wanted to walk into the room but it was as though I lost my legs. The next minute I tried walking, I almost felled. Gradually I laid my buttocks on the pavement struggling to keep tears away. My body began to shake. All I could do was to ask Sopuru to help me get some pills to hold down the headache. I couldn’t swallow spit because there was none and my lips had dried up.

Throughout that night I silently prayed that Doctor Bonny be released without harm. I waited patiently for the next call that would come in because the kidnappers were calling my Uncle’s wife and had requested for the sum of twenty million naira. The wife promised to pay, but it had to be the following day.

News came the next day that the kidnappers collected the money and as well shot Doctor Bonny to death.

Doctor Bonny was the hope of everyone in the family especially me. In one way or the other everyone benefited from Doctor Bonny but now he was no more. Tears couldn’t express the pains written all over the faces of the immediate family members and relatives.

At that point I needed no one to explain to me that my academic furtherance had come to an end or it would solely depend on the miracle of God Almighty in order to finish.

Must people suffer pains and afflictions before they can be successful? Life gave me the answers.

....

For exactly four days I absented myself from the school. I was mourning my uncle’s demise. When I finally showed up in school I felt I shouldn’t talk to anybody. I was really wounded. Most of the questions that came during the class lessons by the teachers flew past me unlike other days where I always had one thing or the other to say.

“Achebe, why are you not talking? Are you sure you’re alright?” the chemistry teacher asked me.

“Yes ma. I’m fine ma” the entire class focused on me. They didn’t believe anything could be wrong with me. They saw me as a very smart person who always had his way in all things.

During break period some of my friends came around. They wanted to know if truly anything was wrong with me. I didn’t want them to disregard me for the fact that my academic future was under pressure. I didn’t want them to know I was under a sponsorship since I was in junior class. But that pretence lasted for quite a very short time. Some of the nosy girls in my class soon began to gossip me. I didn’t know how the information got to them. It was only Chuks that knew everything about me and I trusted that he wouldn’t betray me.

My zeal for academics dropped because there was no hope again. I was gradually becoming truant in school. I began to pay attention to manual labour to save some money to at least register my WAEC. The hope for higher institution was shattered.

Maybe I wasn’t actually supposed to be a medical doctor, seeing that things have fallen apart and the center could not hold any longer.

Episode six

The principal; Reverend Father Magnus was addressing the students that Monday Morning when I came. It was almost late for Morning devotion. I sneaked into the assembly ground with the thought none of the school functionaries saw me but unfortunately one of them came straight to me and dragged me out by the belt. If it were the days I prided myself about my uncle I would have raised trouble with him. But now, my wings were clipped. I couldn’t do anything but to follow him like a sheep on his way to slaughter.

“Kneel down here. Stupid boy.” He said.

“You thought you’re smart abi? You think you can come to school at any time you want? You will remain there until the devotion is over.”

Senior Anthony loved punishing students. The other day he was discussing with his colleagues how he was disciplined as a junior student, and by that he was going to treat every other student under him the same way.

“Like master KC said, the State Government Education Board brought a scholarship form for secondary school students who might want to contest in the forthcoming scholarship exam in Owerri. Anybody who emerges either first, second or third will have a price, but the person who comes out first position will have scholarship throughout his university studies and even beyond. So, it’s up to you to decide either to help your parents, or fail and struggle throughout your academic year. After now, if any of you is interested in the form, please see Master KC, he knows what to tell you. Alright?” the principal said.

“Yes sir!” the students chorused.

My heart pounded speedily while the principal spoke. It sounded like the only hope and access into my father’s dream choice of course for me.

When I was finally released from the punishment I rushed straight to the Bursar’s office for the form. My heart felled when I saw the number of students that queued for the scholarship form.

“How sure am I this exam will favor me? This is state government scholarship scheme and by that, most other brilliant students from other better secondary schools won’t be left out.” I muttered under my breath.

“We just have to try our best the same way other students are doing” Chuks said, I was encouraged.

I collected the scholarship form and began to read as though my life depended on it. Indeed, my academic pursuit depended so much on it. Even while a teacher spoke in the class room my heart gave no focus.

I woke up every middle of the night to study believing that I might be recognized even if I didn’t make it to the first position.

The D-day finally came. I was surprised that most of the students from my school who queued up for the form were nowhere to be found. We were only three out of almost thirty students from my school. Even Chuks was discouraged and couldn’t participate in the exam.

On getting to the Examination center different students with different school uniforms littered everywhere. I was really intimidated.

I sat under one cashew tree with a piece of paper supporting my buttocks. The other two students that came from my school were not in the same level with me, so communication wasn’t frequent.

“Everybody please come closer” one man instructed. They said he was the coordinator.

“Good Morning everybody and welcome on board. My name is Gbolade and I want to assume we all know why we’re here and am quite sure our various schools must have educated us on the pre-requisite as touching this exam toady. In that case, do well to comport yourselves and make sure you don’t cheat during the exam because if you’re caught that’s the end of the journey for you. My colleague Mr. Nikanse will guide you through the necessary processes that you’ll go through before you can finally start the exam. Do have a great day and good luck to you all” he spoke and signaled Mr. Nikanse to continue from where he stopped.

Suddenly I felt the need to use the rest room. My intestine punched me very hard that I almost felt it forcing its way down my anus. I shifted by the corner and rushed into one dilapidated building. Thank God no eye caught me. I was so disappointed that after pulling down my trousers the best I could do was just to fart and urinate. No excreta showed forth. I sighed and went to meet others.

After the exam that day I went home with a mixed feeling. Most of the students who wrote the exam came out blushing and smiling. Some gathered in groups discussing their answers.

“I said it!” A girl shouted and jumped up. I was under pressure to go find out if actually my answers corresponded with theirs but I was discouraged on seeing they were only females. What would they think of me? I wrapped my head in agony and went home.

Three weeks later the result was out. The principal came again during the Morning assembly and announced it as usual.

“The education board sent us a letter that the scholarship result is released”

My heart ran into my mouth. I wouldn’t dare blink my eyes at that moment reason been that a word eluding me might cause me heart attack.

“But, unfortunately, only twenty three persons came out with the expected result out of all the thousands of students from different schools that participated. And so, these twenty three persons will be participating in the grand finale of the scholarship exam coming Wednesday next week at the stadium. Luckily for us one of our students was the twenty second person on the list sent to me” he said as he brought out the piece of paper.

I began to scan for other students from my school that partook in that exam. I saw one of them. Her lips slightly gave way as she was lost in thought watching the principal speak. She might be thinking what I was thinking.

“Achebe Orie! Where is he?” the principal announced.

I sped out from the queue as though the principal just declared me the overall winner.

“Ehm... I wouldn’t say you failed but all I can tell you now is that your chances of scaling to the first three positions might demand more sacrifice from you. Congratulations anyway.” He shook hands with me.

“Get ready. By next week Wednesday is the grand finale. All the twenty three of you will sit for the final exam that determines the actual winners. Wish you good luck”

At home, I lost appetite. I kept recounting the words of the principal over and over again.

“It means if I lose in this grand finale I may not have another chance of becoming a Doctor, until at least am able to save up a lot of money to carter for it. God please help me”

I stood up that night and prayed almost three times without knowing I did. It was my brother that told me the next day how I disturbed his sleep in the name of prayers.

I went about asking elderly men in my community what it takes to succeed in competitive exams. One of them was Mr. Emma. He was a retired civil servant but his age mates regarded him a bookworm.

“Well, you just have to study hard. Just study and pray to God almighty for wisdom to remember everything you read. I know a lot of intelligent students back in those days in my school who studied round the clock yet nobody still recognized their efforts. You have to take your prayers seriously and then study hard. Trust only in God and he will never let you down.” Mr. Emma said.

“Trust only in God and he will never let you down.” I said to myself many times even while I read in preparation for the exam.

Episode Seven

The stadium was very large. It could accommodate the entire students from my school and even more.

I sat lonely at one corner of the massive hall and waited patiently for the commencement of the exam. More students trooped in than the supposed twenty three students who were going to write the final exams. I wondered.

“Listen up everybody. Once again you’re welcome. Today determines who gets the academic sponsorship of the state government. Like we did the last time, obey the rules. If you fail to adhere to any of the rules you’re disqualified. Of course, you should understand we’re only looking for just three persons and therefore a little error from you might kick you out. Now, quietly match into the hall and sit according to the arrangement. Your supervisor will soon join you. The rest should go over there and wait. Thank you” the man said. I didn’t know him but he spoke like he’s in charge.

Two hours later, we were done with the exam. I couldn’t wait to look around because I didn’t want to be discouraged by those groups of people who were in the habit of discussing their answers after exams. I waved down a Keke Napep and went home.

I repented of my sins a thousand times in one day begging God not hold my iniquities against me and therefore deny me the opportunity of studying my father’s chosen course; medicine. I wanted to make him proud.

One week later, during a Thursday morning devotion, Reverend Father Magnus was addressing us again in the assembly ground.

“Ehm...I must thank God who gave our school the privilege to participate in the State Government scholarship scheme. The result was called out yesterday and the letter that came to our school did not speak so well of our performance. Our candidate tried his best to represent us but unluckily for him, he didn’t make it...”

My eardrums ached on hearing this. I saw some of my haters making faces at me. Some buried their mouths in their palms while they laughed and made jest of me. I wished the ground gave way under my feet and swallowed me.

“...he tried so much. I didn’t even believe he could scale from twenty second position to fifth position. But, his efforts can’t be in vain. Most of you who picked the exam form from my desk couldn’t even participate again. That was really an act of cowardice. Achebe is a brave boy. He chose to represent this school even when it’s not convenient for him. He skipped most of his class lessons running up and down in preparation for this exam. His efforts can’t be in vain. Therefore, we, the management of this school have decided to fund Achebe’s academics to every level of his choice”.

My legs were stuck to the ground. I didn’t know if I was supposed to shout or run out and hug the principal or run home immediately to inform my parents. The uproar that came from the students deafened me. Some of the boys in my class jerked me from the ground and threw me in the air. They shouted and sang my name.

“Achebe is a goal!” they sang.

“Achebe is a goal!” they kept chanting.

None of the rooms at home contained me. I kept shouting and hugging everyone in our house announcing to them how God answered my prayer.

“Calm down and tell us how it all happened” my mother said.

“No! I can’t calm down. I said I can’t calm down. Finally I would still become a Doctor. Finally I would still go to university. Hey! God thank you...”

“Achebe calm down and gist us how everything happened” My elder sister said.

“No! Leave me alone o. somebody should leave me alone...”

As I was jumping and jubilating I hit my head on the wall. It swelled immediately. I held it pressed with my palms trying to control the protrusion on my forehead.

“Will you now start telling us how it all happened?” My sister asked.

“Yes, I will” Pained, I responded with my palms on my forehead, massaging the wound.

After explanations, my father stood proud, arms akimbo, with his face shimmering with cheerfullness, looked at my mother and said,

“Achebe my son must go to school.” he tried to smile but held it rumpled on his lips.

My mother nodded in agreement.

In their excitement, they forgot to tell me that Precious, my old time friend was back from the City.

The End.

About The Book.

A Boy Called Achebe.

He had a poor background, struggling with poor academic performance, displayed his foolishness, was ridiculed and mocked, encountered divine help, prided himself beyond control in his newly-found help, met disgrace and shame once again But at the peak of his shame and downfall, he met something else unexpectedly.

He who rises by humility must stay humble even at the height of success. (Unknown).

About The Author.

Egbulonu Kingsley is a talented and passionate story writer, a preacher and a teacher of the Gospel. He strongly believes that his stories are intelligently crafted and divinely inspired to provoke thoughts, build morals, adjust thought patterns, give guidance on the path to the discovery of life purpose, foster and inbue a level of standard of living in the society especially amongst the youths.

A graduate of the prestigious Federal University of Ebonyi State Nigeria who, as at the time he wrote this book had no payable job but found purpose in writing and preaching the Gospel with a single theme of restoring purpose, passion and vision which can be captured in most of his stories and Gospel messages.

He has written several other books of which A BOY CALLED ACHEBE is one.

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Email: [email protected], or [email protected]

WhatsApp line: +234 9073408455. Or +240 222 834 246.