i used a little of my imagination to describe the events. i did
not live in the girls hostel so i can't claim to know the exact turn of events.
But I'm damn close, aren't I?
***********************************************************************************************
Let me tell you something. We Tricol boys were underprivileged.
The school LOVED the girls and hated us. Of course that’s the way it is
everywhere in the world…ladies first! And so, our school, to us, was rather
feminist. The Girls always got the new hostel (the school would have us believe
that it‘s because they‘re less destructive. I beg to disagree). When we boys
were not allowed to have hot water in the hostels (except you were sick) the
girls had a cold/hot water dispenser.
If a boy got caught doing something wrong, he’d be suspended. If it were a girl who committed the same offence, she would be given mere manual labour for two weeks (called “working suspension”). The girls served the meals in the dinning hall. Now, that seems normal. But then we boys were furious because these girls would serve themselves first, pack huge meatballs with their spaghetti and hide it! They’d heap both butter and jam with their bread (you could have either one but not both); they’d take two or three pieces of meat when they were entitled to only one! They’d get ten pieces of dodo (that’s fried plantain, non-Lagos people). When we got two scoops of ice-cream, they’d have stashed half a bowl somewhere. What robbery!
BOYS HOSTEL WOULD BE CRAMPED LIKE THIS |
If a boy got caught doing something wrong, he’d be suspended. If it were a girl who committed the same offence, she would be given mere manual labour for two weeks (called “working suspension”). The girls served the meals in the dinning hall. Now, that seems normal. But then we boys were furious because these girls would serve themselves first, pack huge meatballs with their spaghetti and hide it! They’d heap both butter and jam with their bread (you could have either one but not both); they’d take two or three pieces of meat when they were entitled to only one! They’d get ten pieces of dodo (that’s fried plantain, non-Lagos people). When we got two scoops of ice-cream, they’d have stashed half a bowl somewhere. What robbery!
We evolved all manner of theories as to why this was so. We
thought maybe Mrs. Philips (a.k.a “Princi” ) was a feminist. Maybe she didn’t
know how to take care of boys because she had no sons and lived in school away from
her husband. Maybe…
It was for this reason we began fantasizing about teaching her a
lesson. Oh, KC boys poured sh*t on their principal. FGC boys beat their
principal until he passed out, then revived him so that they could beat him
MORE. Maybe we could use devil’s beans for both her and our evil
housemasters!!!!
But it was mere fantasy. Nobody wanted to risk his record. See,
we feared Princi more for her rigidity than for her “partiality”. Truth be
told, she’s very disciplined and excellent and truly wanted the best for us.
But tell that to high school boys who were trapped with no money and no video
games and were being oppressed- you’d be mobbed!
Oh- and boys did get their chance to serve once during the mini
inter-house sports. And they’ve never served again to this day…for obvious
reasons!
**************************************************************************************************************************One
beautiful Monday morning, we went to the dining hall for breakfast. And beheld
something beautiful. Our girls were all in their daywear. Huh? Princi’s beloved
daughters? Had they all gone quite mad at the same time? Or were we unaware of
any public holiday? But there’s no public holiday in November! Nobody would
tell us what had gone wrong. The way they were so secretive, it was like you’d
just asked them where they were in their menstrual cycle. Eeew!
At the assembly ground, We lined up according to our classes.
Sang the hymn for the day. Prayed. Read the bible. And then the Vice-Principal
came on stage to announce the good news.
ALL THE GIRLS HAVE BEEN SUSPENDED
What? What the hell’s going on? Has Mr. Odetola finally tipped
over the edge of insanity? (a lot of people suspected he was very close to that
edge). How could all the girls have been suspended? What kind of offence? But
there were no answers. All the girls were instructed to go and change to their
sportswear, pick up cutlasses, hoes and rakes and proceed to the field
immediately to start their suspension.
We left that assembly, shocked of course that such a thing could
happen. What could they have done? ALL the girls? This was NOT happening. Could
Tolu have been involved? Omiko oko? Deborah Elomobor? Eloho Akpokhene? Wanma
Yaro? Ema Oko? Omodele Makinde? I mean, these were people who had sterling
character. People I’d never have imagined in such a scandal. (As for Tolu,
well, I liked her so I didn‘t want her to be in such a mess). Two weeks working
suspension!
They came to class later to lock their stuff up. It was then we
discovered that one of our classmates wasn’t involved after all. Wanma Yaro.
Phew! What a relief. It would’ve been dead boring if there were absolutely NO
girls at all in class! Now, we’d learned to be sensitive enough to allow the
suspended girls to go serve their punishment before we started asking
questions.
As soon as they left, we in Arts/Commercial class ran to meet
Wanma. What happened? What happened? What HAPPENED! And ever so eerily, she
told the tale of the commando raid on their hostel that morning.
**************************************************************************************************************************
They were having their morning devotions. Singing and clapping.
Feeling like the special daughters of the school. (okay, I added that part. I
don’t know what they were feeling like). And then the impartial Princi walked
into the hostel. If you’ve been to Trinity, you’ll know that Mrs Philips walks
as silently as an FBI Agent. As silent as a ghost. You’re alone in a class but
suddenly you get this unnerving feeling you’re being watched. You know what
that feels like, don’t you? And blam! There she is fixedly watching you like a
specimen!
The girls were surprised. She’d never been to their devotion
before. What was she doing here? Of course, they instantly became more orderly.
The movements ceased. Those “stabbing” (that’s skipping) devotions quickly
received miraculous healings of their illnesses. The volume and pitch of the
singing increased. The fervency of the prayers intensified. Anything to impress
the Principal.
Maybe she wasn’t there for them after all. She was busy
conferring with the housemistress. Probably something to do with
telephone privileges. Or the new gas lamps they’d gotten (which till I
graduated did not get to the boys. They had to use rechargeable lanterns) Maybe
she came to announce a new upgrade for the girls. Maybe a professional
shoe-shiner to keep their shoes always shiny!
Wait a minute…where was she going? Why are they locking the
rooms? All the rooms? Is there a snake in the hostel? What’s up?
Mrs Philips announced that everyone should remain at the
quadrangle while members of room one lined up in front of their room. The room
was opened and everyone was told to stand by her locker. The lockers were
searched. The buckets, spray starch cans, under the bed, backpacks, under the
pillows, inside the bed sheets. On top of the lockers. Even unopened stuff.
They searched all the rooms. Even the box-room. And they way they did it, the
rooms were searched sequentially while the rest were locked tight. Guess who
conducted the search? Mrs. Philips and Mrs Ademola! Now, tricol people, you
know these two people are eagle-eyed!!! They’d never miss a thing!!!
It was a massive massacre. The search turned up all manner of
things. Food hidden EVERYWHERE. Even under mattresses (and you think boys are
disgusting?) In their buckets, under their beds, on top of their lockers! Even
In their boxes! There was money everywhere! You’d be surprised the kinds of
things girls had in the hostel. There were even speculations that some girls
had some…TOYS…(which were obviously not for kids). Mobile phones, Alcohol and
other crazy, CRAZY stuff.
It must’ve been hard for Princi. Her beloved girls messing her
up so badly. Was there no righteous one among them? The refrain was “no, not
one! No, not one!”. It was in this spirit of vengeance that she descended on
the girls and gave them what, for once, they truly deserved. NO ONE was spared.
Not even Tomi Adetiba (sob!). The punishment was bad and far-reaching. If
anything was found in your possession or among your possessions, you’d be
punished. I remember Fiyin Owa who wasn’t even in school when this raid was
conducted was indicted because something was found In her box! It could easily
have been hidden there in her absence…(or alternatively, it could actually be
hers, you’ll never know!)
Painful was Ife Gbosi, who received the big stick just because
five naira was found on her. FIVE NAIRA (that’s like 2 cents!)! Gosh- it could
easily have been change from buying bubble gum…besides, we always resumed on
Sundays…it could easily have been leftover money from a brief stopover at
Church’s Chicken or even offering money from church! Even the guilty felt it
was rather harsh- just let her go! But Princi was on Fire and there was no
stopping her! (Do I need to remind you that Ife Gbosi was withdrawn from Tricol
that session, do I?)
The girls became guys…cos when they were done with a week of
work, they began to grow big arms and legs like tennis and football players.
And of course, Mrs Philip’s motherly instinct and unfathomable love for the
girls kicked in. And she let them all off the hook.
This taught us a big lesson. MRS PHILIPS LOVES ONLY THE GIRLS.
Just kidding!
We human beings love order, patterns and things we can easily
recognise and give labels. For example, we have an overwhelming tendency to
categorise. Oh, the sky is blue! Or look, that’s a negro walking down the white
neighbourhood! This tendency can be quite helpful to members of our species so
they don’t keep changing things and “discovering” river Niger like Mungo Park
Discovered River Niger, or like Christopher Columbus “discovered” America.
But the problem with this habit of classification is that we
tend to get arrogant. Once something looks like something that has been
classified before, we tend to try to force that new thing into fall into that
category. For example, we say that some kind of literature is “Shakespearian”
simply because the poet wrote in sonnets (but we refuse to take into account
the fact that the poet wrote that poem in a remote village in Adamawa state
before it was translated into English). Or we cancel a Tsunami warning simply
because the undersea earthquake measured only 6.3 on the Richter Scale.
This is one reason why we keep having terrorist attacks and
natural disasters all over the world. We get so used to patterns, paradigms and
formations that we cannot deal with the unexpected. We expect the enemy to
behave the same way; We expect disasters to come the same way, and when they
don’t, we’re hit hard. Whoever believed that the WTC twin towers and the
pentagon could be bombed by middle-eastern terrorists?
No system is foolproof. No matter how good you are at getting
away with bad stuff, you’re gonna get caught one day.
No comments:
Post a Comment