Survivor Series – The Beginning

Hello Hello!!!! What’s gooooood?? Everything obviously, I hope.

I’m going to be doing down memory lane and telling you about the highs and lows of my life as a junior in secondary school. I’m concentrating on the boarding school or the hostel struggle which is clearly the best part of secondary school, depending on the one you went to. Before you go on, you should know I can’t possibly tell you everything that happened. So, I’m only telling the important parts.  Be prepared to chill because this is a long story.

JSS1 – The True Hellywood Story

3rd term of Grade 6 was a happy period. I mean, I was feeling like one goat because I was going into secondary school. My parents had decided the school I was going to since grade 4. Everything that happened between grade 6 and the day I landed in Hellywood/ Junior School is not important so I’d just start on the day of resumption.

It was a beeeeeaaauuutifuul Sunday morning. The whole family went to church, as usual. In church, I just kept checking the time, hoping for it to pass fast because school was all that was on my mind. I had heard ‘bigger people’ talking about school and I couldn’t wait to see if all they were taking about was real. The suffering, struggle and pain. Finally, after much wait, we hit the road. The whole family went. I kept wondering why everyone had to come. I was just at the back of the car, trying to memorize the way to my new school. Eventually, I slept off.

The next time I woke up, we were in school. I was too happy yo. I hurriedly got my bags out of the car and rushed to the point where the ‘housemasters’ were searching (Housemasters are those guys in charge of students). When they were done, my mum called me, sat me down and began giving me some advice that I was sure I won’t need. Or so I thought. I saw people crying as their parents left and I was shocked, I just waved goodbye, smiling like one goat that had seen somewhere it could be stealing yam on a reg. I used the rest of the afternoon to unpack and arrange my things, make some friends and just chill.

That night, we went to the dining hall and they served us a nice meal (I can’t recall what exactly). At this point, I was amazed because everything I had heard the ‘bigger people’ talking about didn’t seem true. Well that’s how it looked. Life went on smoothly through-out my first week staying there (I lost most of my things though). Seniors were really nice, some offered to help me keep my provisions ”””’safe”””. Little did I know it was all pretense. Remember how I said in the beginning of this post that I’m going to be telling you about the highs and lows of being a junior, well there weren’t really many highs. Mostly lows.

Second week there, everything turned upside-down. I remember that Sunday well. There were six demons (whose names I really want to reveal but can’t so not to put my life in danger) that were members of my room. Some of you might know these people as seniors. Most other rooms had four and below. Now this school was a real all-boarding high school. We were twenty in a room. Correct struggs. That Sunday night, the room/dormitory head called all the ‘juvees'(slang for juniors) to his corner and told us to sit. My guy now said we should all bring some of our stuff for him and ‘his guys’ as tax. Well, I was and still am a very sharp ‘James Bond’ kind of guy and so I poured a little bit of milk into this tiny cup I had and happily skipped to baba’s corner. One by one, we ‘juvees’ presented our tax. It got to my turn and I was asked to present my tax (the way the tax system worked was this. There was no official tax price. The seniors just inspected and judged whether your tax was worthy to be accepted). With a big smile, I presented my tax. This senior and ‘his guys’ were on a bed, sitting back, relaxed. But when it was my turn, I noticed that they leaned forward when they saw what I offered. I was thinking they liked my tax and wanted to appreciate me. And then……………………………..

The next sound I heard was a blaring siren. I sprang up and asked one of my new friends what was making noise and he told me it was time to wake up and go for the regular morning devotion. I was confused because the last thing I remembered was presenting my tax. I asked another friend what happened to me and he told me the demons beat me senseless. I didn’t believe this guy until I saw my body was bruised in many places. I wanted to go and report but we had been told that reporting would only get us in more trouble, and so I decided to let it go. I swore to revenge sometime later if the opportunity presented itself. Juniors tried hard to avoid the demons, myself included. It worked for a while. And then it dawned on them that we ‘juvees’ were feeling smart. They then told us ‘juvees’ they were going to handle us on Friday night. It was still Wednesday and I was wondering why they were postponing the punishment.

Friday seemed like every normal night. We got back from the ‘evening prep’, had night devotion and went to our rooms. On Friday nights, all students were supposed to clean up their rooms and surroundings in preparation for the hostel inspection that takes place on Saturday morning. After all the stress and pain of cleaning, I was so tired and so I got on my bed and slept off. My sleep was just starting to feel wonderful when a heavy slap landed on my face. I woke up, still drowsy, amazed and in tears, wondering what I had done to deserve that. I wanted to complain but self-control stopped me. I just did ‘odeshi’. When another combo of three solid slaps hit me, my drowsiness cleared and my ‘odeshi’ was destroyed by the stream of tears that flowed down my cheeks. I saw all the other ‘juvees’ in one corner of the room kneeling down. I didn’t need to be told I was supposed to join them. One of the seniors in the room then placed a large heap of dirty clothes in front of us. He then told us to share the clothes equally and wash them immediately. Anger and hate filled my heart when I heard this. I was tempted to speak out and form ‘human rights activist for juniors’ for the guy but when he gifted my fellow junior a heavy knock on the head for complaining, the temptation fled. I just sighed and went to my locker. I picked my bucket and slowly walked to the laundry bay (It’s this place we do our laundry. Some people bathe there though it’s wrong).

I didn’t do anything for the first ten minutes I was there. I just sat on the floor and cried. There was this gutter nearby which had ‘spirogyra’ all over it. I thought of pouring all the clothes there but it didn’t feel right because I’d still have to wash the clothes. Sad and in pain, I washed the clothes, though it was mostly me dipping them in water one by one and spreading them. After I was done with the evil task, I got on my bed and cried all night.

The next morning, I swore to remain strong and see pain as something for the weak. I then prayed that an opportunity to do evil to the seniors appears. God was happy that day.

In the afternoon that day, my worst senior asked me to make him a bowl of garri with milk and sugar. I asked him for the key to his box and then a swift slap to my left cheek made me know he wanted my own garri, milk and sugar L. I wasn’t in the mood to argue and so I went to the box room where I kept my stuff. (No tears, No pain. As a boss). With little interest, I put everything his wish consisted of. There was no water that afternoon, so I had to walk all the way to the reservoir. I was about to cry but I remembered the decision I had taken. On my way back after getting the water, I just stared at the soaks (the mixture) as I walked. I was about entering the room the senior was in to give him his soaks when one of my friends that also hated the senior called me. I told him about this thought I had of adding some extra ingredients to the soaks. He felt it was a good idea so we both walked to a corner. There, I packed up some saliva and spat in the food. My friend hit me and told me I was a dead guy. I didn’t understand until I watched my guy gather up mucus and spit into the ‘soaks’. I didn’t dull and gladly did the same. He then picked a dead, disgusting piece of wood from a nearby dirty gutter and stirred the food with it. After this, we both went to the room and gave the senior. We watched as he ate the food. That moment was one of the only highs in this part of junior school. I felt total happiness and fulfillment. The moment got better when I realized that the senior took in every last bit of the food. Evil, you may call this, but you’re wrong.

The rest of Jss1 was much of the same but still fun. I eventually adapted to the struggle and the pain. All the suffering made me stronger.

#SurvivorSeries is going to be a 3 or 4 part special, depending on what I conclude. Anyhoo, those are the highlights of the first part of life in junior school. I hope you liked it. Expect the other parts soon and Follow @SeyiSoneye. Bye!

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