My Protest As a Child.

I grew up in a liberal home; a home where you don't wake up to order people around like a school principal does with junior secondary Students. I had a very lovely childhood. I was both Daddy and Mummy's child. However, one annoying trait about me was that I hardly agree with my siblings and friends on many issues. Each time we failed to come to a compromise, we fought and in some scenario, injuries were sustained. I really was heartless, they said because I fought with anything at site.
Apart from that, I was a  fearless and amazing child. I could remember that in those nostalgic days, everyone feared my father because of his 'no nonsense' personality. Each time my senior brother and sister needed anything critical, they would send me to make such request on their behalf. This I did with the deepest peace anf happiness. Often, my father warned me to stop advocating for others, but I never saw anything wrong in what I was doing.

I have always been myself from birth. I protest, I disagree and when it call, I combat to get what I want.

A time to prove myself came in primary five. Kwado was very much older than me and when I noticed that he had love for Eunice; a girl who was in good casual terms with me, I started feeling jealous. I knew nothing about relationship, yet I feel some sort of love induced with jealousy. Eunice seldomly visited my father's shop. I always 'fought' to be the person who would attend to her. I often dashed her satchet water and often, I dashed her Pork meat. Because I was very bright in class, she felt happy being close to me. She too was smart. During our second term, she went to school by 6am to secure seats for two. It was a culture in our school for pupils to come to school and secure a favorable space for the term. It's more like renting an apartment for a term.

Kwado on a special evening gave me a letter to deliver to Eunice. When I refused, he threatened to tell my father that I gave Eunice pork meat. That didn't move me because I controlled the heart of my father. I started managing my father's shop when I turned 9 and indeed I did that so well that people took me for some 16 year old guy that got cheated by nature. I've gained my father's trust that he hardly believe any suspicious story about me. Kwado threatened to report to my Mum and at such critical waist catch, I had to compromise. He truly wipped me into a corner of abject submissiveness. Even without opening the letter, I already preconcieved it's content. We had learnt letter writing in primary two. I started reading my father's letters even when I knew nothing about English language. I looked at the confusing words and in my head drew a picture of what could be happening in the letter. When I opened the letter, my assertions were proven. It was a love letter😭. Oh my goodness! Such words in my primary school is a sin; a gigantic one. You don't say that to a girl. It's highly imoral. Those who did became a topic or point of reference in all our moral instructions classes and morning assembly sessions.

Two weeks after, I delivered the latter after much pressure. I had beef with Eunice and she  surprised me in an unexpected way. When she threatened to report me, I asked her to move on after I had done my plus and minus. I thought nobody would hold me responsible since the letter didn't come from me, but I was wrong.

The news circulated faster than a cigarette smoke. It was a big deal; Olisa wrote a love letter to Eunice. It was a humiliating moment for me and I was 'eager and hungry' to defend myself. Each night I looked into the mirror as i debated and judged  myself. Those days, pupils feared standing in front of our Headmaster and teachers to answer questions on their conducts. In my own Case, I was only afraid of my father. I believed that if I explained how it happened that I would convince all. My lack of fear might be on the fact that I had debated in front of ASUBEB Officials and received warm complements. Lol

On the faithful day, I was called inside the Headmaster's office. The big room was filled with all staff. It was as if a panel had been set up for me. (Thinking about it now, I feel happy that I could create such serious scene just because of love. I will be great in life oh) I was a bit afraid as my principal drew the cane.

"I know you're shocked. Calm down and be a good boy. You have always been one we all are proud of but how you turned into this, is still confusing"

They began to murmur and many were twisting there fingers. Many said they knew my hardworking mother who sell food at the market. Some said they knew my father who was athe chairman of st. Augustine Zone in the church. I never knew I was such popular. e
Earnestly, I loved attention more than any girl in my class then.

I took a deep breathe and finally got myself to order. I had earlier greeted "Good afternoon I Sahs - mahs" and they all laughed.

I started well by greeting everyone formally. I was so confident as I narrated my misunderstanding with Eunice. I also lied that I threatened to beat her because my English reader got lost after she went to my bag. Finally, I told them I never was in love with her and that I only delivered a letter to her.

"Didn't you read the love letter?" My headmaster asked. They stared at me with smiles. Such look killed my hope. They have taken me as a sin, as an imoral brilliant child. Many of them looked at me like a cunning being who appeared smart and innocent but highly corrupt and pernicious. My form teacher called me a green snake the first time I entered.

"I did" I said, knowing fully well that it was finished for me.

"You will adore her breast for the rest of your life? Olisa I know is very wise and cunning. He wrote this letter, the English there can not come from Kwado that failed primary five twice" my form teacher said. Truly, I didn't write the letter but after I compromised with kwado, I was forced to borrow him some big words.

After I heard a professor said to my father 'Doctor, I'm insatiably Happy for your support', I pleaded  mum to buy me a Michael west dictionary. I was the first pupil to own a dictionary in primary 3 😅. It became a commodity that was in complementarity with my daily happiness.  I learnt the words and virtually used it in all my essays. Even in debating competitions, I ended with a line I never would forget in my life. 'I'm insatiably Happy to have convinced the audience...' This word was lent to kwado and my teachers were familiar with it.

My parents were invited but my mother refused to come. She too 'might' be ashamed of me. On the day, my father came to our school and a panel was called again. I was questioned for more than 15 minutes and I didn't agree that I was wrong. Often my father would shout:

"Mechie gi onu there. Shut up. You didn't write a love letter but the words in the letter are yours. You're thinking of love at this age. Well, if that's what you want, I can get you one"

The teachers began to voice their disappointments. Nobody expected such from a pupil of my cadre. I was my teachers's favorite in my primary and secondary school education.

For the first time, I felt ashamed of myself. I began to cry. It was my nature to cry whenever people accused me of what I didn't do. I'm always heartbroken when I failed to convince people. It made me fear if I will ever be what I wanted to be in life. The orientation I had was that they are wise and they must win in every Debate.
During moral instructions, my teachers would preach against imorality using me as a case study. Even when they teach about pretence and slow poison attitudes, they always made me a case study. Those days were so bad for me. I began to backslide in education. When we went for a debate competition and I failed to deliver as usual.  It became an evidence that I have lost my SMARTNESS to imorality.

After our Exams, pupils are assembled for end of the term prayers. Our headmaster advised the pupils and officially opened the holiday for all. Also from 1st to 3rd would be called out for some clapping and accolades. People of 4th positions didn't merit it, but I was asked to come out. Till now, I was the only 4th position pupil that was called out in the history of the school. I was happy for that because I received accolades even when I failed.

After our headmaster finished acknowledging my good behaviours and how I was so creative and industrious, he began to rubbish me on a crime I was so innocent of. Pupils laughed each time he referred to me as a handsome boy who needs a wife while still in primary five.

"If he had been a problem to us in this school, I would be giving him 24 stroke of cane but I will Discipline him with just 6 strokes. That is to remind him who he was and to encourage him to go back to his former self"

As I lay postrate on the table, the cane entered my buttocks through my spirit. I was heart broken, I was full of anger and spite. If people's wishes come through instantly, I wished everyone dead. I was a hot tempered child. Six strokes of cane was a small soup for Strong Students like me. My cries came from the heart of innocence. I didn't write the letter; I never saw my self wishing to have Eunice on my bed as the letter said. I never admired her big breasts, I never did. Yes she had a huge Breast; the biggest I must say but my attention wasn't there until the accusation came. I never imagined her buttocks being the biggest in the school, kwado did. I never wished to wash her pantied and bra, it was never my wish to adore her breast for the rest of my life. The letter said so and kwado was the owner! I only saw her as a friend, as just a friend.

If I had love for her, it was unexpressed and It was never lustful. My cries were never what they took it for, it was never a remorseful one but a one of vengeance and hatred.

I stopped greeting my teachers whenever I met them on the way.

In a bit to protest my situation, I dressed to my father's shop in the dirtiest clothes. Often I would stubbornly repeat clothes for four days. I hardly took bathe and each time I attended to customers in shop, they complained about how dirty I was. My father after timeless warnings bought new clothes and plead me to stop being dirty. I never listened to that, even when he flogged me. All I wanted was Justice, all I needed was to prove my innocent.

The worst happened when my father's political associates visited him from the Government house. I was very neat in the morning but when I learnt they would be coming, I rushed back and changed to my protest attire.

(All the while, I never took it as a protest because I knew nothing about the word. I was taking my revenge, through humiliation of my father and mother as well. My mum banned me from coming to her restaurant whenever I looked dirty but I never listened to her).

When they came and I offered them water, they refused to take. They walked over to a nearby shop and got themselves water. My father felt the pain but maintained his peace. As they discussed in a corner, I made sure I created opportunity to be seen. Either I walked in to collect pen, I would enter to drop money in the cupboard. Often I would return money several times.

"Is he your son?" One of them asked him.
He said yes but I knew it wasn't from his heart. If he had the privilege, he would reject me. I know my father!

When they departed, my father nearly cried.

"Nna m, why have you become so stubborn within some few days. Why are you 'HUMILIATING' me in this manner. I knew I purchased some clothes for you day before yesterday. This morning, you looked nice but now, you painted me like an uncaring father. Come and tell me the problem"

That was how I got justice. My father apologized and till today he still joke with it. Each time I think about the experience, I laughed out so loud.

I think protest yields fruit.  But I don't think I can do such again, my brothers and sisters. I suffered! Lashes all over my buttocks. One packet of zee soap, Odudu soap and Ncha nkota fought the final battle with my sink.

In this long race Dear, I shall be counting on you for we all know that success is sacrosanct

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