It was a very peaceful Friday afternoon, Muslims had just finished
their juma'at prayers and christian students, their fellowship. The
peaceful atmosphere was however disrupted by the loud sound of the
bell sitting under a tree beside Commissioner B Hostel and sudden
chants and screams of 'squale', 'junior boys, run for your life', 'a
junior squat' filled the air.


I then realised that it was time for fatigue.


Every Friday afternoon, all students in the school came out for
fatigue to clean the school environment. We would pick dirts round the
school compound, sweep roads, clear gutters, wash toilets, cut grasses
and so on. It topped rankings as one of the most hated days in the
school. While most people thanked God its Friday (TGIF), we always
wished Friday would never come.


The most annoying part of it was that the whole process was always
supervised by S.S 3 students, wicked S.S 3 students who derived joy
from watching people do hard labour. If I had the power to change
destinies, I would have made sure they became prison warders so
they'll have to watch prisoners work hard labour all their life. On a
lighter mode, I would promote them after they must have done that for
like 20years. You should know I am a very nice person.


As the bell rang continuously, there was commotion in the school
premises as students began to run to the school field to assemble for
fatigue. It beats me to imagine how we all ran so fast just to go and
do labour. I guess we had no choice.


In my early days as a newcomer, I was exempted from doing fatigue but
right now, no one saw me as a newcomer anymore as I now worked even
harder than the 'old comers'. I now put on the normal school uniform
like the old student I was. I sincerely wished I could go back to
being a newcomer so a lot of things could happen again like Mariam
crushing on me. I was determined that if this happened again, I
wouldn't dare dull myself like I did earlier.


After assembling, and a few shouts of 'junior boys' coupled with the
loud reply of 'yes senior', we were allocated various portions to take
care of, though not before we were given three strokes of the lineyard
each for not shouting 'yes senior' very loud. Just Imagine.


That particular day wasn't too lucky for me as I and four others were
instructed to wash the popular P.T.A Toilets near the class area. If I
had a bottle of water at that moment, and the labour prefect, Senior
Kelvin who gave me the instruction was on fire, I would have drank the
water.


This toilet was the most popular in the school. It was very popular
for the wrong reason. It was never clean except on Fridays when
unlucky people like me were asked to wash it 'thoroughly' and in less
than two hours after washing, it goes back to its default mode.


Sometimes i wondered what the use of washing it is. People defecated
and urinated carelessly and recklessly in it. Even the female section
was not left out. One would begin to wonder if the students hated the
Parents Teachers Association (P.T.A) so much that they treated its
namesake-toilet with so much disdain.


Anyway, I had to do my fatigue hoping that the next Friday would be
luckier than this. With anger and disgust on our faces, coupled with
the curses under our breath, five of us washed the toilets and ran off
faster than injured rats.


It has been six(6) years now and I am still wondering what I ever did
to Senior Kelvin to warrant such show of shear wickedness.


Please note that this is an excerpt from a book I am currently working
on, 'My Police School Experience'.