Sent away
As I was reaching
the age of 10, having lived with my parents literally all my life apart from times
when I was cared for by nannies when we were in England, they were thinking of
where I would go to secondary school.
We lived in the
North of Nigeria but they concentrated on trying to get me admitted into a
secondary school in South-West Nigeria where my parents were from.
All down South and nowhere else
In fact, I cannot
remember any instance where I was entered for any common entrance examinations
or admission lists for any of the good secondary schools in Kaduna or Jos where
we had lived for about 5 years.
Instead, I was
taken out of school in January and put on a plane first to Ibadan where besides
taking exams and one hair-raising incident where the driver of the vehicle I
was in with 3 distant cousins left the steering wheel to me as we almost teetered
over the edge of a ravine, only providence changed that course of history as I
came into the most experience of sexual abuse in the week that I was there.
Liberties taken and voice lost
I returned home a
bit tongue-tied, I had received many gifts but could not account for how I had
given some away to ward off abuse which my parents took as evidence of me being
a wastrel currying favour off people by being overly generous – how I should
have spoken up but for the fear and loathing of my experiences.
Two weeks later, I
was on a plane again to Lagos where I spent over four months out of school
shunted between relations, grandparents and my cousins as common entrance
examinations were scheduled throughout Lagos and Ogun States revealing stark
contrasts between arithmetic that we did up north and mathematics that was the
mainstay down south, I never knew the concept of negative numbers until then,
it was an aunt studying Electrical Engineering at University of Lagos who
helped me there.
Choices made from limited options
I probably attended
10 examinations in all completely away from the routine of school and the
comforts of home that I had known all my life, it laid the foundations for what
was to come when I had choices, I refused to go to one that shared its grounds
with a cemetery, I had been sensitised to terrifying fear, in the ensuing
months, something I never had before I went away.
Eventually I had
one chosen and preparations for boarding school began – school uniform
instructions poorly stated, a metal portmanteau, a machete/cutlass that was useless
of the purpose it was intended for – cutting grass, it was heavy, blunt and
probably it would have been better in the hands of a lumberjack than a scrawny
tall 10-year old – they knew no better.
It was hell, just without the fire
I cannot elicit to
any detail what informed my parents about this idea of sending me away apart
from wanting to probably toughen me up and give me the opportunity to meet more
of my close and distant relations as well as give me the environment to learn
Yoruba.
Soon after I
arrived at boarding school the process of toughening did toughen me as we found
ways to compensate for the sadism and abuse that passed for discipline and
corporal punishment sanctioned by the system of hierarchies of seniors and
teachers – they all got away with it, our parents none the wiser apart from
being assured that their kids were getting a comprehensive education for life
ahead.
If I did have my
own children, it is unlikely I would have acquiesced to this barbaric regime of
treating children like stubborn mules that needed to be forced to respond and
react to coercion imposed by inflicting pain – that is another story to be
told.
