“Students should go home now, go home now” The head boy jingles the big bell he was holding and bellows from time to time, children in kindergarten and nursery classes peeped through the window and stared as the headboy made his announcement in the senior students block. It was just 12pm

The proprietor of the school, a London trained man in his fifties came home years ago after spending the better part of his life in London, he had complained bitterly about the deplorable state of the government-owned schools and the inability of a Grade one student to spell her name
“This is demoralizing innit!” he had rambled on and on in front of people who barely understand English not to talk of the Queens English he has adopted. Then he swore to start a school, a good school, standard one, the kind of school that could compete with children that schooled in London. His school became one of the most reputable schools around until greed chewed deep into his pocket, enough wasn’t enough and he increased the school fees every term. Parents began to withdraw their kids and the ones who stayed were told the school standard is difficult to maintain in present Nigeria economy.
When the children in every class became a handful, he merged those in Primary 6 into one, same with other classes and began to repaint and renovate the other block, the next day he put up a signboard outside advertising his “International secondary school that teaches with the British curriculum”. And he has caught the Nigerian bug as he terms it so the reverence for quantity over quality.
A block belongs to the kindergarten and primary class pupils. The second block is for the seniors in secondary school.

The headboy marched to the kindergarten classes and told the teacher the message the Principal asked him to pass around, the teacher who is the type not to let news pass her by left the headboy in her class against his will and flew to the Principal’s office where she met other news hungry teachers. There was a pregnant silence in the room as each teacher shuffled his feet out after hearing the news from the principal, those standing and sighing from time to time refuse to break the bad news.

” Yes, the Governor was shoot by unknown gunmen this afternoon ” he whispered to a teacher who just entered.
She flew out of the office the way she flew in and wailed as she ran back to her class.
” Sildren, Sildren the Gofnor is dead o, oya pack bag and wait for mummy and daddy. I will start call now okay “? She began to wail again and the confused kids joined as she dismissed the headboy.

Febisire trudged home with her friends burdened with the big bag containing loads of textbooks and the death of the man who just awarded her a full scholarship.
Her mother was not home when she got back and she stylishly took the key beneath the footmat in front of their apartment.

There is light and all the TV stations were showing clips of the Governor’s convoy and the aides who died trying to protect the Governor.

“What about the security personnel? The policemen? Where were they when this nefarious act was being perpetrated”? A man with white moustache and fading Grey hair screamed into the camera.

Febisire turned off the TV and went into the kitchen to carry the pap she couldn’t finish in the morning as she rushed to school, it has gotten cold.
There was knocks on the door as she spooned sugar into her pap.

Her mum entered the room with her bag clasped between her armpit

” turn on the TV, turn on the TV” she said without seating down

Febisire turned on the TV and went to sit behind the curtain, her mother squinted as she struggled to read what was written on the TV, she let out a yelp and began to hum, she brought out her phone and began to call everybody she knows retelling the sordid story with spice and sugar

Aunty Falila in London did not pick her phone and Febi wondered where her mother got the call card to call all the people she has been calling.

She fixed her phone to charge when she was done calling everyone and went into their room.
Febi knew why her mother was calling everybody, it wasn’t to discuss the misfortune that has befallen the state. It is to put it across to well-meaning people to her education is at stake.

She peered out through the dusty window, her fingers left marks on the pane, she pretended to be an Ifa Priestess and began to make scribbles on the pane the way she saw it in movies, a dog barked outside and she closed the curtain and ran into their room.

” Go and wash that your mouth and legs before you climb this bed”
” But I am not dirty ma” Febi sneered
“I am not raising a pig, go and wash that mouth before you climb this bed” her mother repeated
” you said mouth and leg before ”

” Go and shower before you climb this BED!”
” So I shouldn’t wash my mouth again? And my leg? I should just shower? Mummy, mummy” she moved closer and nudged her mother, she felt it before she saw it. The tingling pain that comes from the Koboko.

She howled and ran into the kitchen before running out and entering the bathroom, she didn’t stop howling as she meticulously scrubbed her body.

” if you don’t stop that nonsense, I will enter the bathroom and whip you some more. You want to be a problem child abi”?

Febi stopped howling, she hates it when she is called a problem child. She shivered as she stepped out of the bathroom, it has gotten dark outside and NEPA took the light as she creamed her body, a hush has fallen over the state, even the dog outside has stopped barking.

She climbed into bed eyes wide open as her mother combed her wardrobe searching for what she only knows.

It is not what it is.
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