MADAME KOI KOI 2 ( A TRIP DOWN FGC IKIRUN LANE)

This piece is dedicated to Ajetomobi, Mrs Shittu and all others who have left our shores.

E sun re o, titi a ma pada ni Odi keji.
Sleep well until we meet at the other side.

That other side where we would eat jollof rice and egg everyday and have no fear of any senior forcefully taking our food.

That other side where the Tuck shop is filled with basins of all types of meat and delicacies.
One, which we would not have to pay a single naira to eat in because our creator would give us free pass through His love.

That other side where we would not have to jand into town to get the best goodies; carry expos under our singlets to pass any exams; and make deals to fully enjoy the meals placed before us to eat.

We will meet at that other side.
__________

So I continue where we left off.

While Rasak prepared to turn in for the night, I remembered that I had forgotten my wrapper at the tank area.

Which student could do without his 'aso ibora' (cover cloth)?

That twelve yards material that one wrapped around his body to protect himself from the wicked cold.

That pricessless jewel which prevented mosquitoes from settling down on our bodies with spoons and forks and reciting 'for this food we are about to eat, we thank thee o lord'

And that priceless gift which helped to protect our seniors as they took out their dirty magazines and read under the covers.

How did I know? You ask.

I had once caught senior Fola reading one.

That day had been a Thursday and I had ran into the red house hostel hoping to surprise my good friend Fatoki Osfeam Shola.

As I approached his bed, I saw a figure in a sitting position underneath a wrapper.
Like those rats that ate students toes and blew air to numb the pain, I took careful and silent steps towards the bed.

With a strong force, I pulled away the covers and Voila!
There was the good old senior,
Eyes red from gazing at the still pictures of half naked ladies.
Zippers open from doing 'God knows what' on the sheets of the bed of my good friend.

Ah!!
The good senior beat me black and blue that night.
Forced my frail body to hang on the wardrobes and turned me into a makeshift okada driver.
For he ordered me to go into a squatting position with my two hands outstretched and my back against the wall.

With hot slaps, was I rewarded everytime I tried to stand up.
And with the cracking of a leather belt on my back, was I rewarded anytime I tried to explain to other sympathetic seniors who did not know what the good ol' senior was always doing underneath the wrapper.

________

I needed to go back outside and so I called on my good friend to escort me.

"Rasaki o. Please come and follow me to carry my wrapper outside please." Gently tapping Rasak at his head and poking him at the ribs.
For he was very tired and already sleepy.

Poor guy who had done extra labour that day and had cut the whole grass behind SS1B class.
For he had 'stabbed' the Wednesday labor day due to the theft of his cutlass and hoe.

'Apa Ijoba (the long arm of the law)' had caught up with him on Thursday which is today.
As the labour prefect had chosen the exact time, when Rasak and other students were in class, to storm in and retrieve offending and 'staboo' students who had made themselves unavailable for the work of the previous day.

"Ohh ooo. Kosi go and get it na. Why are you disturbing me?" Rasak said as he shifted his sleeping position to lie on his left side which was directly opposite me.

"Oya. I will give you half of my jollof rice tomorrow and also half of my egg."

These, I begged Rasak with at that moment.
Ready to sacrifice part of my meal the next day so he would join me to face any 'ojuju calabar' which may emerge from the bushes at that period of the night.

At least the horror may see both of us and run away.
Or at worst, I could easily outrun Rasak in a race.
Using the poor fella as a bait which could safeguard me first,
So I could easily rally other students to come back and search for him, If only I reached home first.

Rasak took the bait; got up and jumped down from the upper bunk.
While he slipped on his slippers, he made me promise to redeem my pledge the next day.
For I was a serial cheat at fulfilling pledges.

Always choosing to enter the dinning hall very early to eat my food before the other student (who I had made deal with) came by.

A practice, I continued until I made a deal with Izuchukwu himself.
The big eight-pack chested man whose slap reconfigured my head and made me become faithful once again.
For I had eaten the Monday night eba and fish which I had pledged to him after eating his Saturday morning's Akara and ogi.

Ah! Akara ati ogi ma dun gan o.
(Beans cake and Pap are sweet o)

That wonderful meal that always tasted better because the fear and tension, which always came with saturday morning inspection, had died down.

That delicious meal which we loved because it marked the true beginning of a students weekend.
For you could not count Friday as the beginning of a weekend.

Rara o! (No o)
Not when your mind is thinking of how to fetch water and safeguard that water and your brooms till the next morning.

Not when you are thinking of a billion ways to avoid a visit of dongoyaro cane on your buttocks the next morning.
Because just about anything can make the senior, with the itchy palms, erupt in anger.

Not when you are thinking of the best way to 'dust' the cane which would surely come to your buttocks.
For if you had 'stabbed' (avoiding morning work) any work during the week, you should expect to be caned the next day.

Worse still, if you were like me, the legendary 'staboo of life'
Just begin to act like Michael Scofield, and map out escape routes to take the next morning and hiding places to stay till inspection is over.

Rara o!
Friday is NOT the beginning of the weekend for any boarder biko.

____________
"Don't worry Rasak. I won't fail you tomorrow. I promise" I replied.

Truly intent on keeping my promise and making a mental reminder to be the first person to arrive at the dinning hall the next day.
For this would mean that I would serve the food and have the opportunity to heap my plates with big food and transform my plate into a mini kilmanjaro.

Perhaps, I may even get lucky and get to eat the food of an absentee student.
Stolen waters which always tasted very sweet in the mouth of the drinker.

Like Saraki (the Senate president) being escorted by many senators to the Code of Tribunal court, I walked boldly to towards the tank with my friend tagging along.

Like a rat who just saved a tiger from a trap and has become best friends with the tiger, I dared any cat looking demon or 'ojuju' to come outside.

Like Nnamdi Kanu after being granted bail by the court, I picked up my wrapper from the pump and STAYED back for some minutes to drink water to my satisfaction and wash my mud stained feet.

Afterwards, myself and Rasak went back to the hostel.
I, in front, strutting while devising the best way to make Mr Ojurongbe's pocket cough out some money for me even though my pocket money had finished and the visiting day was in a week.

Rasak, at the back, wobbling and dragging his feet lazily while thinking of the heap of jollof rice and egg which would fill his plate the next day.
For he had already made a deal with Bode the previous week, sacrificing his Friday 2 fufu and meat to Bodsman for Wednesday's jollof rice and egg.

Immediately we reached the hostel, Rasak slumped on the bed and fell asleep.

On the other hand, I kept on perfecting and memorizing the lines which I would say to Mr Ojurongbe the next day ; and rehearsing my manner of approach which had to possess the dual nature of being dramatic and pitying to the eyes.

While I was rehearsing, the hostel doors creaked and a gentle wind blew in.

Like a sharp police officer counting the daily collected twenty naira notes, my eyes immediately bulged and darted from side to side.

My ears straining to listen to any little sound that may indicate the presence of an extra terrestrial spiritual being in the room.

Nollywood films had taught me that the doors normally swung hard when spirits entered.
So I took extra notice of the actions of the door for next few seconds.

Hollywood films had taught me that ghosts hated salt,
So I drew the salt I had stolen from senior Fola's locker closer to me.

The wind grew stronger by the minute and its whirling sound was very audible in the silent night.

In unison, the doors began to fling wildly and my nollywood sense told me that 'they' had arrived.

What did I do next?
Stay tuned for the next episode.
#BASHORUN

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