LIFE OF A BARRACK BOY EPISODE 5 (True Confessions of a Barrack Boy) Okay, I am starting with the truth. No more lies, no more pretense. I am not trying to confess about my crush for a girl. That would come in another episode. What I’m about to confess is one sin I committed long time ago. No one knew about it. Okay, that’s not true, because, I told someone about it. Maybe that’s the reason I can now boldly come out straight. Oh, what are you thinking? Of course, I’m straight. Very straight. As straight as opa Mose (Moses’ rod). Many years ago, can’t remember how old I was, but certainly not up to seven. Because then, my mum was still a junior officer, and we still lived in a two bedroom apartment where I was born in the barrack. We shared the rolls of flats with some other nine families. Ours was the fourth apartment if you start counting from right. The Kolokos lived in flat four, which I believed at that tender age wasn’t mere coincidence. It was providence trying to reorganize the permutations of life to bring about the plausible amalgamation of our two juvenile frolickers. In other words, I was in love with Mr Koloko’s second daughter, Obidara Koloko. But like I said, this episode isn’t about a love confession. Well, maybe it’s a consequence of love. I’m not so sure. It also happened that my mum, every Sunday evening, sat with other women in flat one for House Fellowship. Flat one was the house of my favourite friend, Charles, who we called Charlie after our most watched comedy series ‘Charlie Charlie’. We preferred Charlie Chaplin to Bill Cosby because we didn’t have to listen to whatever they were saying. Laugh was better without active and compulsory listening forced by my dad. It is an intentional plot by mum to punish us each time she made either me or any of my other siblings follow her to House Fellowship. Mum knew it was that same moment Tales by Moonlight showed on NTA, but that was her way of ‘Showing us the Way of Life’. So we always behaved ourselves every Sunday afternoon just so we didn’t sit in the Christian Mothers Association meeting where they talk about everything and anything ranging from the bible, to the latest clothe, and of course a little bit of gossip. I had been more than cool even from the time we set out for church that Sunday morning in mum’s ‘tortoise car’, but she must have instinctively felt I needed to be in that women’s meeting that fateful evening. Oh, any form of crying would have easily been seen as ‘crocodile tears’ as my mum will always say, so I brazed up. Never having the slightest idea of what was ahead of me. Charlie and I were suppose to be playing together, in our living room, but now, I was in his living room singing choruses to the Almighty God, with my yet-to-be bass voice; while he was at my place watching TV with my cousin, Kingsley, and answering rhetorical questions from our house-helps. So the women’s meeting went on seamlessly on its usual course, my mind drifting through its own imaginations. Soon it was offering time, and the Bonvita can turned offering bag was passed round. It got to me and I didn’t have any problem letting my 50kobo fall through the slit on the lid, joining the rest of the coins in the bottom of the can. I passed it on and watched as the women dropped their mites straight-barefacedly. I wondered what went through their minds. A few women had dropped one naira and five naira note denominations, but the one that caught my attention was the offering of a general’s wife who had visited. She had squeezed a few 20Naira notes into the tin, and it was obvious everyone saw it because she made it obvious. Wow, I know that woman, or better still it’s safer to say I know the children of the woman. We attend the same school. They always dressed cool, carried fanciful bags and food flasks, while mine was everything my elder brother had passed down to me. At least I had something. So the final prayer of the meeting went on, and I felt it lingered too long. While everyone said a determined ‘amen’ to the moderator’s prayer, my mind wondered like a lost ship. I suddenly moved to the centre table where the ‘agolo bonvita’ stood waiting. I picked up the tin and tried peering through the slit, if only to have one last look at the newly minted notes. I looked up at the group. Surprisingly, no one was watching. With my little fingers I pulled open the lid, and surprisingly pulled out one of the folded aganran (new naira notes). I expected someone to scream; I expected my mum to throw her left hand across the table at me, but nothing of such happened. I still wonder up till recently how I had been so invisible. Everyone was totally in this praying mood that no one looked up for a second. I closed the lid after I slid a green note into my pocket. I placed the tin back on the exact spot I had lifted it. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t steal. And this was the first and last time I… whatever. If you don’t believe me, that’s your cup of tea. The fellowship was finally over and I strolled back home, laden with the load of a weightless 20Naira note in my pocket. My pace was slow, my heart was heavy with guilt, but my lips were also sealed. Alone in my room, I struggled with my thoughts, and finally decided to tell my mum about the ‘green leave’ in my pocket. Just then, Kingsley came into the room to tell me all that happened while I was away. He talked non-stop, and I smiled, all the while weighing what the outcome of my confession would be. Later that evening, as I matched slowly to the altar of the mum’s presence, she looked up at me from her meal with her caring and tender face. I was about to burst out in tears as an intro to my confession, when she raised an alarm. What was wrong? I wondered. Mum lifted me to her laps and pulled me close. “Ewo, see my pikin face o. Nna, what is wrong you? Why is your face pale like this?” she felt my neck with the back of her hand. She pulled down the lower part of my eyes to check if it had fever. (That was what I thought it meant then, sha.) “This boy is hot o, chai. Rose..Rose” She shouted the name of one of our house-helps. My dad just looked up from the newspaper he was reading. Our eyes locked for one second before he returned to his world. In his mind he probably would have said, ‘this boy is just seeking for attention.’ My mum didn’t stop ranting until she was able to get through to my nurse auntie who was at work. The chance now was that I was going to be given some injection. My temperature went off the roof on the announcement that she would be coming home to some Chloroquine injection. I wanted to tell mum that I didn’t have fever, but that wasn’t possible, mumcee saw fever ten miles away. Before my auntie came back from work, I was fast asleep. In fact, I was snoring hard like my one of my cousin’s father. The next day there was no trace of fever lurking around. I was more than good, except that I couldn’t still tell my mum about the money in my pocket. Somehow, the money found its way into my school shot, and as we were driven to school, I started having ideas of what I could do with the money. Trust me, my mind couldn’t contain all the ideas. All through the assembly period and morning session of classes, I couldn’t let my mind concentrate. Or rather I was only able to think about break time, when I would be buying biscuits and sweets; lots of biscuits and sweets, and chewing gum. Tabataba, babadudu, pata’nla, lolly, gogo, dankua alata… and of course at closing time I would buy dundun and akara elepo. During launch time, I surprised my friends. I didn’t necessarily ‘declare’, but I gave more than my friends anticipated when they begged. I was very quiet and smart about it. Words moved faster than light in this school. Plus the fact that the Counselor was my auntie’s friend. Na people who know you go do you. I managed not to buy things from Iya Lambe more than twice. So that she didn’t begin to suspect. I had seen her a couple of times expose other pupils who bought beyond the regular. The thing was that she never reported them until a day after, when she had used the money to replenish her store. I went in search of the queen of my heart, Obidara. She was quietly seated in her class even during break. Oh, my heart melted when she smiled at me. I gave her one pack of gogo, shortcake biscuit and two wraps of chewing gum. She said thank you. Then she asked me where I got the sweets from. I stuttered a little before I mumbled something about me breaking my kolo (safe). I ran off to go look for my cousins Collins and Kingsley. I was older than both of them by just one year, but Kingsley was in primary one, while Collins was in nursery 1. (Because of the 1991 Kano Riot, another of my aunties dispersed her children all over the southwest and south south. Collins, who was the fourth child of auntie Odion, had to stay with us. He had to begin from Nur 1 because he could only speak well in Hausa. The only straight English sentence he could speak then was, “My name is Collins, and I am from Kundila”) I gave them one wrap of sweet each and headed to the field before the break was other. I didn’t bother go to my elder brother’s class. The secret would be exposed. Later that evening, my school bag still had a few wraps of sweets. The ridge of my mouth had turned sour while my stomach churned. I gave a few sweets to a few kids that passed by the front of our house, but there were still a few more wraps of sweets left. I went to the backyard, and was grateful to find some kids there too. I made them smile, but I still had a few more when I opened my bag’s side zip. I think I had been so invisible for the past few days, but I had a feeling that danger loomed around, and that I would soon run out of luck. I threw some of the wraps of sweets on the roof of the kitchen, but was careful so one saw me. I finally decided to share the last six wraps between Collins and Kingsley. I casually called them into the room for a brief chat and tossed them the sweets. They had begun licking before they thought of asking: “Where did you get these many sweets from?” “I bought them.” “You bought them? Where did you get the money?” My head was thinking with the speed of light. I needed to give them some smart answers, if not their inquisitiveness would heighten and would lead to more trouble. I dared not tell them the same thing I told Miss Koloko. “The money I got when reading.” I don’t know where the answer came from, but it sounded dumb immediately it came off my lips. I saw their senses respond sharply. “The money you got when reading?” Collins asked. “How?” reiterated Kingsley. I dared not take back my first statement or show any contradictory facial expression. Instead, I moved closer to them, looking into their eyes. “Do you remember what my position in class was last term?” “Yes, tenth. You were tenth in your class,” responded Kingsley. “Yes, that’s true. Mummy always says it. That you are Olodo.” Seriously, this guys were just about to flatten my mood. “No, that was the last before the last. That was first term. I was second in class last term, cant you remember?” “Yes, that’s true,” said Kingsley. “Yes, it true, mummy said so,” Collins nodded his head. “Good. I moved from tenth to second, simply because I read.” I knew I had lost them, but as soon as Kingsley felt with his fingers the sweet wrappers in his pocket, his mind came back to the question at work. So I explained further. “Reading makes you get good result, and good result gives you money. Simple.” I watched them process this new information. It felt difficult to understand. I didn’t understand it myself, but that was what dad always said anyway, so I hoped they understood it for no other explicable reason. Then I was mentally ready to explain further, remembering another of dad’s quotes. But they kept thinking about what I said. I could see from the frown on their faces, they were thinking how reading could directly translate into money to buy sweets and maybe anything they wanted. It seemed they had never seen it in that light before. I was the first manifestation of what all they ever could dream of. Gradually Collin’s face began to light up, and Kingsley in order not to be left behind began to smile too, like he had at last got the vibes. Everything was competition for us three. “So if we read like you, we will have money, ko?” asked my Hausa cousin. “If you read and get a good position, you will have money,” I corrected. “So if I read like you, I will have money?” Kingsley simply asked the question with a personal undertone. I was furious but just said a resigning “Yes”. Collins stood up immediately to go out of the room. I stopped him by the door. “But promise you will never tell anyone of the plan, because if you do then everybody will begin to read and the money will not be enough again.” I looked into their eyes again. They both nodded, and then dashed out of the room. Kingsley was ahead this time. Not that I had an idea what they were up to. Night soon drew near, and after I had returned from playing with Charlie and Obidara, I came into the house dirty and tired, only to find my two cousins musing over their homework. I had totally forgotten about our earlier conversation. I had disposed of all the remaining sweets, and that was all I really cared about. My heart was free of every burden. Later after supper, my cousins were soon found asleep over their bedtime story books. When woke up the next day, Kingsley met me with a question, “How will it come? Where will it come from?” “What?” I was confused with his question, totally forgotten of the previous day’s secret. Collins was by my side the next seconds, “Yes, I didn’t find any money in my pocket when I woke up o.” I remembered at that instant what our last conversation had been about. My still sleepy brain became alert at once. “Not so soon, ahan. When you start reading, and then you get a good result.” “But we read yesterday nah,” “Yes,” “It’s like the two of you are deaf.” Our argument had started that morning. When our auntie asked what the matter was, we simple said “nothing.” During the rest of the week, and unto the next, my two dear cousins read everything readable. I even saw Kingsley read my Yoruba text book, Alawiye. He read my other story books, Ralia The Sugar Girl, The Lion and the Jewel, etc, all so that he could get money too. Collins at that time couldn’t read well, so he looked intently through the pictures in all our Macmillan text books. This was noticed at home, but everyone, including my mum thought it was prayer being answered. I can’t remember what happened after a while. We kind of forgot about the whole idea and lived our lives ever so happily afterwards. Twenty-something years after, which was just last week, Collins visited me on the weekend. We see once in a while, and gist about the good old days. He was the one who reminded me of the latter part of this story. I then told him about the first part where I took the money from the “agolo bonvita” (offering can). Anyways, Collins is now an accountant, and makes a good living working for an international bank. Kingsley, I saw him last like 5 years ago, married with 2 kids. He owns a huge supply store in Accra. See ya’ll in the next episode. Target: 5 likes
Posted on: Sun, 30 Nov 2014 10:50:22 +0000