IRAWO - MY QUEST FOR FREEDOM - 2

Oluwakemi @ 3months; with my mother

My nursery school days at Subuola nursery school, Festac Town, Lagos, were full of mischief. I was not the type that would wee or poo on my body but I remember taunting those that did and making them cry.

In nursery 2, I used to avoid going for assembly when the school bus, sometimes, brought us to school late so that I could have a taste (otherwise known as stealing) of other children’s lunch along with some of my classmates who also came to school late.

When the victim started to cry during lunch time and the teacher asked and frightened us by saying that she would call on òjùjú to help her catch the perpetrators, lying tongues began to wag and accusing fingers were pointed. I could not bring myself to lie, so I confessed but I did not mention the other pupils’ names and so I served their punishment.

Oluwakemi @ 3

 “Kneel down! Close your eyes! Face the wall with hands up in the air! No playtime for you!” 

I would cry and no friend would say that they were with me or tell me sorry.

That was the last time it happened. Immediately after putting my bag and lunch box on the shelf, I would run outside to the assembly ground.

Sometimes, I deliberately missed the school bus so that I could swing and slide for a long time. My poor grandma would have to come look for me (my mum was in nursing school and my father had gone to work).

My primary school days at Central Bank of Nigeria Primary school, Satellite Town, Lagos, were fun. From my primary one to five classes, I was always on stage performing at every prize giving day or end of year concerts. From Edo, Yoruba, Efik, Hausa, Ibo cultural dances to choral and poetry recitals, I participated.

However, my poetry recitals were cancelled before I got the chance to perform them on stage because I got nervous, forgot my lines or stammered as I recited my lines. My teacher thought that I was not good enough and evicted me from the list of participants. I tried my best to participate in speech activities such as acting and poetry recitals but I was always pulled out because I stammered. I still stammer especially when I am happy or angry but I more confident about it. I am no longer nervous when I speak to people or give career speeches.

My grades were fair; within second to tenth in a class of about forty-five pupils. The closest I was to collecting a prize was in third term, primary four. A boy named Chichi and I both came third. I was angry! See somebody contesting with my only chance to shine on prize giving day.

The school authority said that it only had a gift for one person and so, it was given to Chichi because he scored ninety-two percent in mathematics and English language while I scored ninety-two percent in mathematics and eighty-eight percent in English language. I am still wondering what math and English have to do with anything and why the headmistress was being stingy considering the caliber of our school.

Prize or none, I got the chance of performing at every end of year performances and I was congratulated afterwards by my mother and other parents for a beautiful performance. They all claimed that I danced best. That was what mattered to me.

During my primary school days, I got to perform at the National Arts Theater, Lagos. I was always in the front line because I could really dance. We were televised on several occasions and my mum would inform all our friends, relatives & neighbours beforehand to watch the programme. She always came for my stage performances. We also got to open shows for Tosin Jegede, the onetime child singer. She was a pupil in my school and was in my immediate younger sister's class. Charly Boy usually came with Tosin to our school, along with his television crew, to capture our performances for television.

I did not like Tosin. I was upset to see pupils running up and down after her during break time forcing their friendship on her. Tosin was three years my junior. My younger sister was her classmate. Once, when I saw my sister following her up and down during break time, I went to drag her away. One day, under the stair case of her classroom, she was alone and for no reason, I went to pinch her and then ran away as she cried along looking for a teacher to report to. 

Now, I realize that I was just jealous of her. I wish I could write and sing my own songs like her. That was the most ridiculous thing to have done to an innocent girl. It was because of her that we performed at the National Arts Theatre and on television regularly. I ought to give myself a slap for being so nasty.

In primary school, the adventure in me made me join the Brownie. When I was ten years old, I joined the Girls' Guide of Nigeria. I totally enjoyed the songs, games and camps.

In school, girls were not allowed to play drums in the school marching band. I knew I could play just as good but, it was a no, no! I used to wonder why boys were allowed to do some stuffs and girls were not allowed to do same. As far as I was concerned, I could do what boys could do except pee in the same way. I played ten-ten, skipping rope, suwe and clapping and singing games with the girls and then, I would play police and thief, top spinning and table soccer with the boys.

My mother always brought us to school in her white Mazda and the school bus brought us back home. Sometimes, we had to trek home if the school bus broke down. On our way home, we would buy ekono Gowon and lollipop ice cream. We would run at the sight of a man staring at us. One of us called such evil looking people, gbomogbomo. It was later that I knew that gbomogbomo was the Yoruba word for kidnapper. 

So, I wonder, these evil people have been in existence even in my childhood. May they never come in contact with us or our children. At the name of Jesus, every evil knee must bow!

To be continued