IRAWO: My Quest for Freedom - 3

http://www.badore94.com/

Secondary school days were spent at Lagos State Model College, Badore, Eti-Osa local government area. 

I had to settle for this school after I couldn't get admission into Command secondary school, Navy secondary school, Unity Secondary School and a Federal government college because I did not pass some interviews and in the schools that I passed their interviews, I was considered to young to get an admission. I was eager to stay in the boarding house.

A model college was my last option as I did not want to go back to my primary school for  primary six. I had already done yanga to my classmates that I would be going to the secondary school next session; that I would become their senior. Now, I will not go back there, never! 

I had wanted to attend either Kankon or Meiran but the admission officer told my mother and I that there were enough students in these schools already.

The admission officer told me to make a choice from amongst the other schools listed on the cardboard paper pasted on the notice board in his office. Igbonla and Igbokuta looked scary. I called out, “Bad ore,” and the officer corrected me, “Badore. It is called Badore.” This was how I became a student of this great school.

In Junior Secondary School one (JSS 1), I started drumming on tables and wardrobes. I later became a sort of DJ for birthday parties in school aside from social nights because we were not allowed to bring in radio at the hostel. 

In my JSS 2, I began to smuggle things into the hostel; radio, ring boiler and anything smuggable.

From JSS 1, I participated in social events; fashion parade, dance, musical drama and choral recitals. I was actively involved in sports too; march past, calisthenics, relay races (1,800m, marathon races but never 100m dash because I was not fast enough, but I was consistent). I was a member of the following clubs; arts & crafts, drama, cultural dance and sport. During sport meeting, we played volleyball, table tennis, football or we jogged.

I stepped on a lot of seniors' toes because I was bold and blunt and they hated it. When I became a senior, I did most of my chores myself. I seldom allowed my juniors to do things for me because I used to pity them. 

I used to play and gist with my juniors, mates and some seniors. We would gist, eat cold water soaked indomie and drink soak and travel garri together.I did not think that anyone was too small or too big to talk to.

Only one junior stepped on my toes. I cannot remember her name but I remembered that she was a member of red house room one and that I replied her attitude with a slap. She was coming to me to retaliate and I beat her up. She later came to apologize to me. She knew that she had gone beyond her boundary. 

I had a few toasters in my mixed school.Some teachers too toasted me whilst I was the class captain and room captain in SS 2 & 3. 

I threatened to mark them absent from classes and report them to the school authority if they persisted. All my math teachers, except Mr. Kayode, were attracted to me positively and negatively.  I wondered why. I was a pretty girl with all the curves in the right place but I was also above average in math and other subjects. There was no way that I would be going to them for extra marks, except to point out where my marks were erroneously or knowingly deducted. So, they were wasting their time.

There was in particular, our math teacher in JSS 3. Mr. Folorunso, otherwise known as, DAKOVA. 90% of the time, he would wear shirts with padded shoulders and old fashioned tight trousers, so tight that we could see the shape of his penis so much that we were able to determine what corner of his groin it was ‘packed’. 

He was a short and stout man, his tribal marks visible under his thick beard. His spoken English had a faint Ibadan accent.

On my way to the hostel after prep a couple of times, he would call out to me from his backyard which faced our JSS 3 classroom block. He would beckon to me to come and help him carry a bucket of water into his house. During this period, I had never heard of the word, pedophile else, I could have called him one. On one of these occasions, I was with my friend, Bisola Rufai. Oloshious fellow! I would eye him and walk on.

One day during math class, he asked me a question. My sit was on the front row, exactly in front of him, as I sat with my sit partner, Adanna Oji-Alala. In fact, he was resting his bulge on my desk. I stood up and could not answer the question. My honest reason; I was staring at the bulge in his trousers as he packed it neatly on my table. 

At that time, I had never seen another penis aside from my brother’s and so, I was wondering what one would look like. Before your imaginations run wild, I am a lot older than my brother and I used to bath him and wash his clothes till he was about ten years old. Also, the class before math was integrated science and we had just being taught the different parts of the male body. 

He asked me the question in the middle of my day dream. I stood up to answer a question that I did not hear. I asked him to repeat the question and he got angry and hit me on my right breast. At first, a yeeehhh! came out of my mouth and then, voila! There was evidence; a white chalk stain and the stain from the black sooth of old batteries that we used to darken our board, greeted my eyes. I did not wait any further. I marched out of the class and matched down to the staff room to lodge my complaint. 

Luckily, I met two SU (Scripture Union) teachers, Miss Ekanem and another natural hair bearing woman. I quickly reported the incident to them and showed them the evidence on my chest. They both asked me if I was sure of what I had just said and I told them that I was sure. I was only praying that they would not ask me why I could not answer the math question.

They both came to the class and asked a few girls who were witnesses to my breast battery and came to a conclusion. Later, they went to apprehend him and the next day, he came to my class to apologize to me. 

I would meet  DAKOVA in the future. He was my junior in ICAN school, when I attended lectures at PYE, Yaba. 

He would ask me to please explain some things to him in accounting. Then he would start to toast me again, telling me how beautiful I had become. 

I guess he was planning to fail his exams because I stopped coaching him, left him to his faith and avoided him completely. His shoulder pad and tight trousers style remained with him as I remember.