Little foxes 

I know you are expecting another Capital High episode this week. For one or two reasons, I could not finish it in time, but to make up for the disappointment, I am sending you an end of year present. A lot of people have asked me when I would do a Christian story. Well, this is a story about Christians and something we are all familiar with- temptation. Happy reading! 

Kojo clasped the pulpit with all his might and blinked twice. Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead.  Nope, it wasn’t a dream. She was really here.

Jessica in the flesh. Looking like ten years had not gone by. Like it was just yesterday that he had her propped up against the wall in the Maths and Statistics Department, groping her like his very existence depended on it . Those wild times. Before he gave his life to Christ. Before he became Associate Pastor for Living Faith Ministries International.

Yes, church. He realized that he had been silent for too long. The entire church stared back at him. Seeing Jessica has made him lose his train of thought. He needed to focus.

‘Halleluyah! God has laid a song on my heart.’

Do something new in my life, something new in my life, something new in my life, O Lord…

The church burst into song- with the women waving their white handkerchiefs in the air. They were oblivious to the fact that this was his way of regaining composure, that is everyone else but Jessica. She winked at him the next time their eyes met. Clearly, she was enjoying this.

Jessica. Gosh, it’s been so long.

He boxed his way through the service, all the while trying not to look too often at the far left hand corner of the church where she was seated. After the service, he stood making small talk with some of the elders, delaying their impending reunion. When she was tired of waiting, she walked up to him and said, ‘Can I please have a word with the pastor?’ The elders, thinking that she needed some counselling, gave them space.

‘If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad, Muhammad must go to the mountain, right? Wait, that would be inappropriate because you are a reverend minister, wouldn’t it? Pastor Kojo! Just thinking about how inappropriate it is to flirt with you in front of the altar makes it even more appealing. Forbidden fruit, they call it. That’s in the Bible, isn’t it? I missed you, Kojo.’

The whole time he was standing there, he was cursing his stars for wearing such tight fitting trousers. There was something about Jessica that turned his libido into an untamed animal. He could barely think straight.

‘Cat caught your tongue? Clearly I have still got it- the key to Pastor Kojo’s heart. Well, I am back in town. Same house. You know where to find me. Sermon was good, by the way.’ She turned on her heels, putting on a show as she walked away. Kojo and every member of his body stood at rapt attention; the swaying of her hips almost hypnotic.

‘Who was that?’

He came to his senses when he heard Asantewaa’s voice.

‘An old friend from school. Let’s head home. I am starving.’

As his wife dutifully led the way, he wondered why she didn’t sway her hips for him whenever he was behind her.

‘Why am I here?’, Kojo asked himself after ringing the bell.  ‘I am a married man, I am a pastor, why am I standing in front of my ex-girlfriend’s house with an erection? Get it together, Kojo! You can’t-‘

All his defenses crumbled to dust when he saw her. She was wearing a tank top and very tiny shorts. When she turned, he saw that she was bra-less.

‘Come on in. I don’t bite.’

She offered him a drink. He was hesitant.

‘I haven’t had alcohol in the longest time. Not since I was with you.’

‘No wonder you look so uptight these days.’

He laughed. That was what he missed about her. There were no rules with Jessica- no judgement, no questions. That would probably explain why he had never really gotten over her. That would also explain why he didn’t protest when she reached over to unbuckle his belt.

‘Tell me about your wife.’

Jessica had propped her head against a pillow. Her weave had this tossled look and she was wearing nothing but a necklace. They were in her bed- this was the seventh time he had been there in the last week. Sometimes he came twice a day.

‘Interesting question. Feeling guilty that you are stealing her husband from right under her nose?’

‘Actually, no. I am wondering what kind of person she is- because she got you to marry her. Besides you have always been mine- wife or no wife. Why else do you think you find me irresistible?’

There it was again. That tinge of possessiveness. Most days, it was endearing. Other times, it was scary.

‘Asantewaa is an amazing woman. She is selfless, very caring, prayerful and hospitable. She is the perfect Asafo Maame*. She is a good mother too.’

*loosely translated to mean mother of the church. Used for the wife of the minister.

‘Right. So why are you here?’

‘Because she takes care of everyone except me. She has time to counsel the whole world and its mother but she can’t make time just to hang out with me. Plus she is so prim and proper. We have rules for sex- yes, rules! How ridiculous is that? Twice a month- every other day, she is fasting and meditating. I have to give her prior notice-at least six hours. She has to take a shower before we start. It must be in our bed- no against the kitchen counter business with her. And oh, the lights must be off. Quickies are a taboo when it comes to her and she wears grandma panties. For God’s sake, this is my wife and yet I feel like I am in military school.’

She burst out laughing.

‘No wonder you seemed so starved. Maybe you should take it slowly. Try something new once every two weeks. Haha!’

He threw a pillow at her and started tickling her. When they had calmed down, it was his turn to ask questions.

‘Your turn. Why did you come back? Considering the fact that I didn’t even get a goodbye..’

‘That’s why I came back. I left so angry with you for not wanting to go with me. After a while, I realized that I really didn’t want all I had ever wanted if the package didn’t come with you.’

‘You left Switzerland because of me? Why didn’t you call me a year after you left? We could have been married with kids.’

‘I don’t think so. I would not have made a good Asafo Maame. I would not have made you happy. What we have now works just fine. I can wear my skimpy clothes and be your guilty pleasures reservoir. You can wear your clerical collar in peace.’

Kojo’s eyes fell on his collar and his pastor’s shirt with Jessica’s pink 36 D bra sprawled out on it, and for the first time since this ‘honeymoon’ began, he began to feel guilty. All his defenses dissipated into nothingness when she pulled him close again.

The guilt resurfaced that night when he was preparing his sermon for Communion Sunday. He could not concentrate and anytime he shut his eyes to pray, he saw Jessica. Sometimes he could smell her.

This is crazy! 

“Can a man take fire to his bosom, And his clothes not be burned?”‭ 

The words jumped out of his Bible at him.

But nobody is going to get hurt. Jess and I get our happily ever after. Asantewaa gets a loving husband who won’t ask for quickies. It is a win-win.

The feeling didn’t go away. He tried to drown his thoughts with Kirk Franklin’s There is no one like you.

‘Jess, we have to end this.’

‘End what?’

‘This’

‘I had a feeling we would get here at some point. You can’t come into my life and remind me of what we had and just walk out because you feel like it. You are mine, remember? You are so selfish. You can go back to your pulpit, your dutiful wife, your unsuspecting congregation and your kids. Me? What am I stuck with? Feelings which should have remained buried? I am sorry- you are not getting rid of me that easily.’

‘Jess, I have a wife!’

‘You should have thought about that before you wiggled your way into my bed. If you try to get rid of me, I will destroy you and everything that matters to you.’

There it was again. That possessive streak. The same one that had pushed him to leave her in the first place. Her eyes had reduced to mere slits and she looked like she was exhaling lava. He turned towards the door and said, ‘Take care, Jess.’

He hit the ignore button a third time and sighed. It was becoming more and more difficult to ignore her. On one hand, he knew that he needed to stay away from her. On the other hand, he was afraid of what she could do just to keep him.
His phone buzzed again. It was a text.

‘I have been trying to tell you that I am carrying your baby. Don’t even think of talking me into an abortion. You can’t ignore me forever. If Muhammed doesn’t come to the mountain….’

When he got home that night, his wife met him at the entrance.

‘Your friend from school is here. She said she has something important to say and that she can only say it when you get here.’

Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead. Judgement Day was already here…

Catch us the foxes, The little foxes that spoil the vines, For our vines have tender grapes.

‭‭Song of Solomon‬ ‭2:15‬ ‭NKJV‬

Happy new year in advance, guys! Thanks for sticking with me! See you in the new year! Be sure to catch the little foxes in your life before they spoil the vine, whatever they may be. God bless you! – 💜 Keni

Capital High Ep06: Skeletons in her cupboard

Hi there! Just in case you missed it, this is where we left off.

Most of us go through school, oblivious to the kind of burdens that the girl sitting across the dining table is carrying, oblivious to the fact that one of the boys in our dorm has nightmares every night. Sometimes we do notice it and turn a blind eye to it. After all, it is really none of our business. Today, we hear Akpene’s story- she, like every one of us, has skeletons in her cupboard. It is probably the longest episode yet. Happy reading! And oh, Merry Christmas!! 🙂

Akpene did not like sleeping in the dark.

It triggered memories that she would rather keep buried. Like that night that she and her mother and brother slept in a lotto kiosk with a leaking roof because their landlord had chosen to kick them out. Her brother was scared- the thunder and the sound of the rain pellets hitting the thin aluminum in sheet made it difficult for him to fall asleep. It was a difficult year for them and just the week before, someone had stolen her mother’s life savings. She had sat in one corner of the kiosk, stroking her brother’s back and trying hard to make sure that her mother did not see the silent tears that were rolling down her cheeks. It was that night that she decided to stop crying about things she could not change.

Her mother’s brother, Uncle Koku, offered to give them a room to stay in. He was a truck driver and was often away from home, so the arrangement was that they would sleep there until he got back from his travels. One day, he came back unexpectedly. Akpene instantly became uncomfortable. She could feel his eyes on her when she was going about her chores. Three nights after he had come back, he came to her room and forced himself on her. Her mother had travelled to go and get more tomatoes for the next market day and her brother was sound asleep. She remembered every detail almost as though she had created the memory herself- him covering her mouth so she would not scream, she gasping for breath, the intense pain, the smirk on his face when he was done, the gruff tone with which he asked her to clean up. Just before he left, he turned to her and said, ‘Consider it as one month’s rent. I am a very generous man.’

He came back again the following night and the night after that. When her mother came back, she took one look at her and knew. Her eyes flooded with tears and an unspoken apology. Akpene refused to cry- because of the pledge she had taken not to cry about things she could not change. She could barely sleep at night and anytime she closed her eyes, she could feel Uncle Koku’s rough hands prying her legs open. The next time her mother travelled, she was ready. This time, the dark that she had come to dread was her greatest ally. She waited until he had unbuckled his belt. She went straight for his testicles, squeezing the life out of them like they were a pair of juicy ripe oranges. The pain seemed to temporarily paralyze him. She jumped up and hit him on the head a few times for good measure. Pausing at the door, she looked at him and said, ‘Consider it as rent advance. Shameless idiot!’

She ran away that night. She knew that he would be looking for her to punish her after what she had done to him. She wanted to be with her mother and her brother but she had no intention of going back. She lived on the streets, stopping by her mother’s stall once in a while to take some money and check on her brother. This meant she could no longer go to school but it was better than living with Uncle Koku. Most days, she felt like she was swimming against the tide and that she had to work twice as much to get half as much as everyone else got. There were however days when it felt like God was smiling down at her, like the day she met Auntie Lucy. She was selling canned drinks in the street one day when a woman motioned for her to come over. After a short conversation, Auntie Lucy offered to take her in and help her complete her education.

Auntie Lucy gave her a monthly stipend, most of which she saved and sent back to her mother. One day, Reggie the house boy, smacked her buttocks while she was cleaning out the oven. She hit his hand with the metal spoon she was holding and warned him to stay away from her. The next week, he had framed her for the theft of Auntie Lucy’s gold watch and she was back on the streets. Once again, she refused to cry because crying wouldn’t change anything. It was a week to the BECE, she could not afford to waste her one shot at getting an education over tears. When she finished her exams, she convinced her mother to rent a room somewhere in Chorkor where they could at least live together. Even there, she was an outcast- first because she was an Ewe in the land of Gas, and secondly because all the other girls enjoyed being the object of men’s attention and she, on the other hand, loathed it. A week before she went to school, she heard that Uncle Koku has started looking for her again. It triggered all the memories- and the nightmares. She was glad when the day came for her to go to school.

She liked school- it came with regular meals- hot ones too! Even though she didn’t have any friends, she was grateful for the opportunity to make something of herself. School also protected her from Uncle Koku- at least physically. She still had nightmares about him and anytime it was dark, she panicked.

That would explain why she didn’t like entertainment- pitch darkness, boys too close for comfort and people gyrating like it was the most natural thing in the world. Every Saturday was torture and most of the time, she would sit in a corner with her eyes shut, willing it to be 9pm so that she could go to bed. The boys and girls from the Scripture Union group usually sat not too far away from her, their eyes silently condemning the momentary ‘Sodom and Gomorrah’ unfolding before their very eyes. This time, she got there late and the partying had already started. It was Recs Night so they had pushed all the pews out of the hall to make room for all the dancing. Out of nowhere, one of the boys in Form 2, under the cloak of anonymity, pulled her from the back and dragged her to the centre of the dance floor. He started dancing close to her and her body cringed at the thought of another man touching her. She started to move away from him and he touched her waist and tried to turn her back to himself. Shutting her eyes, she silently begged her mind not to play back its favourite movie. The darkness, the pain, the brutality..

She clinched her fist and was getting ready to push him back when someone grabbed her hand and led her away from the hall. Before the light hit her eyes, she already knew who it was.

K Beck.

‘I know you said you could take care of yourself but you looked like you were about to faint if that boy had gotten any closer’

‘Thanks.’

‘Wow, no sharp retort? You must really be touched.’

Silence.

She sat at the bottom of the stairs and he sat beside her, all the while making sure he did not get too close to her.

‘How did you find me?’

‘Well, it is a secret. Promise not to tell anyone. I am actually Batman. I have inbuilt night vision googles. I am kidding! It is not difficult to miss you in a crowd. Do you want to talk about it?’

‘About what?’

‘Why you are afraid of the dark’

‘Not really’

‘That’s fine. Just so you know, I am here to listen whenever you decide to talk about it.’

She took in a deep breath and started talking. All the while, her heart was racing because she had never spoken about any of it with anyone before.

K Beck stopped her halfway through the story and said, ‘Akpene, you don’t have to say any more.’

‘I’d rather finish once I have started. I have kept this bottled inside me for so long. I wish I didn’t have this body. All my troubles in life have stemmed from it. Just last week, that Elective Maths teacher told me that if I allowed him to fondle me once a week, I’d never get a B in his class. I feel like a coward for running away and leaving my mother and brother in the hands of that callous man. I feel like it is happening all over again any time it gets dark.’

K Beck offered her his handkerchief. That was when she realized that she had been crying.

‘I wish I was there to beat every one of those people. I could beat the E Math teacher if that would make you feel better, but it would probably bring you more trouble. I am so sorry, Akpene. Nobody deserves to go through something like this.’

Having someone to be this nice to her opened the flood gates. He sat there quietly as she sobbed. When she was done, he helped her up and promised to look out for her from then on. Crying made her feel a lot lighter, and in that moment, with her tears soaking K Beck’s handkerchief, it almost felt like God was smiling at her again.

 

Adriana was in a bad mood. Curtis had apparently sent a note to another girl, telling her that he thought she was pretty. As if that wasn’t enough, he was sitting at the back of the class making jokes about the bodies of his female classmates. He stood up and drew two big circles on the board and then pointed at one of the busty girls in the class. Then he and his cronies burst into laughter.

When Denise asked her if she had enough shito for both of them to eat the dining hall jollof with, she snapped at her. Denise muttered under her breath, ‘Rather than deal with your boyfriend, you take out your insecurities on other people.’

Adriana, who was used to everything in this world kowtowing at her command, could not stand the fact that Denise was not supporting her almost as much as she could not stand Curtis’ attention shifting to any other girl! Denise looked back at Akpene, who was packing her books, and made a mental note to come with extra clothes the next semester so that she could offer Akpene some.

The commotion from the back drew everyone’s atention there. Curtis and K Beck were engaged in a scuffle, obviously because Curtis had said something inappropriate about Akpene. K Beck was the obvious favourite of the two and most of the girls were chanting his name.

K Beck! K Beck! K Beck!

Akpene stood there, unsure of what to do. Just then, the crowd parted, making way for Mr Hormeku.

‘Welbeck! I knew it! I knew you had trouble written all over you. Only God knows why I left you anywhere near my house. H-h-h-ooligans and rascals have no place in my house! If you don’t get suspended, then my name isn’t Confidence Mawuli Kojovi Hormeku. Come on, get up!’ He pulled K Beck by the collar and ignored the cries of the girls who clearly thought it was Curtis’ fault. As if that wasn’t enough drama for one day, Adriana walked up to Curtis and slapped him.

That night, Afrakuma lay in her Tweety-themed duvet- a Christmas gift from Jerry-and thought about her conversation with Gagert from two nights ago one more time. To her surprise, nothing she said was a surprise to the woman. She sat cross-legged, looking as calm as a woman who was deciding what to have for dinner.

‘You don’t sound surprised’

‘When you are my age and have spent almost a decade and half running a school like Capital High, nothing will shock you. Besides all the signs were there. I am waiting for them to strike. I will be ready..’

Afrakuma wondered whether Gagert also knew that she was only a partial ally. One thing about Afrakuma was that she didn’t like to lose, so she planned to play both sides to see who would win. Both Gagert and Ms Ampadu were counting on her to turn the students in their favour.She too was waiting for them to strike. Either ways, she would have an ally in whoever won the battle.

‘May the best side win’, she muttered to herself just before her eyelids shut.

See you next week! 😉

Capital High Ep05: Afrakuma

I missed you guys! 🙂 Here is where we left off last two weeks. Happy reading!!

Afrakuma understood the adage ‘Knowledge is power’ more than anyone could imagine. She had learnt rather early in life that everyone in power had secrets and if you waited long enough, the opportunity to use it against them would appear. It also kept them in check. She had secrets on almost every one of the high and mighty people in Capital High, which meant that she could get away with certain things. For instance, she was only Permanent Senior on Duty because she knew that the Boys’ Prefect Percy had a phone and a laptop in school.

She knew which of the Form 2 girls had had an abortion, which of the teachers were sleeping with students, which of the Form 1 boys was most likely to become school prefect, which of the Form 2 girls was still wetting her bed, which Form 3 boy almost got repeated until his parents pledged to keep him in school over the vacation, which of the teachers had an autistic child out of wedlock and treated her like a house help, which Form 3 girl had a crush on that Form 1 boy of a Michael Jackson, everything..

Even she had a soft spot for him- that K Beck boy. There was something endearing about him. It was clear that he liked that girl in her house- Akpene. For the life of her, she could not begin to imagine why.

No wonder they say love is blind.

Afrakuma didn’t come from a very rich home but almost nobody knew that. Her mother never visited her in school but she didn’t lack anything. Not with Jerry in the picture. Jerry was a married man with three children. Every visiting Saturday, he drove up to Capital High with a month’s worth of provisions and money enough to take care of a household of 5 boys . To the outside world, he was her cousin. To his wife, she was his niece. To her, he was an over generous ATM and she knew that for him, she was nothing but an object of lust. They had met at Dzorwulu during her Form 1 long vacation. He stopped his car and refused to move until he had her number. As they say, one thing led to another and now he was the reason why her locker was always well-stocked.

It was time for siesta and the letter girl was going round distributing letters. Letter day was always thrilling. Letters came in on Wednesdays and were distributed to the letter boys and girls after lunch, who in turn went to each dorm to hand over letters to each recipient. It was an unwritten rule that Form 1s were supposed to wait until siesta was over before they read anything. Afrakuma spotted a Form 1 girl who had opened her letter and was reading it under her cover cloth. Afrakuma yanked the cloth off her face and snatched the letter.

‘You want your letter? No problem. You are going to have to earn it. For the next two weeks, you will fetch water for my school daughter and I. I don’t care how you will do it but make sure my water is warm. Not hot, not cold, definitely not room temperature. One pail of hot water is to one and half pails of cold water. You are a Science student, figure it out. And oh, I bath twice a day- three times when I have to stay up late to study- so bear that in mind.’

The poor girl looked like she was about to tear up.

‘Listen, I am training you for the future. You might have a witch of a mother in law or an angry menopausal woman of a boss. You will look at her and think,’You are nothing compared to Sister Afrakuma’. You should be grateful. Consider it my gift to you.’

Her school daughter, Esther, was elated. Fetching water was such a chore and because she didn’t have a strong spine, she could only carry so much water at a time. She also knew that her father, being the Deputy Minister of Trade had something to do with why Afrakuma subtly pampered her . She made a mental note to tell her father to bring her a box of Kalyppo juice boxes for Sister Afrakuma. Tomorrow was visiting Saturday.

 

Visiting Saturdays were always exciting. It was preceded by a long list of dos and don’ts from either Gagert, the Senior House Mistress or the school prefects at assembly on Friday.

Don’t sit in anyone’s car.

Don’t go into the house with a phone, a tablet or a camera.

Don’t embrace anyone of the opposite sex for more than 7 seconds.

Don’t come out of the hall until you hear your name mentioned over the intercom system.

Make sure you are in the prescribed attire for visiting. 

No black socks and slippers for the ladies.

No sagging shorts for the gentlemen.

No crossing over- under any circumstances (in Gagert’s words, not even when there is a fire!)

Names of defaulters will be written down during visiting and punished accordingly.

Visiting meant that Hala Week was over- the week where everyone could see the bottom of their chop boxes and thus hoarded their last bit of gari,sardines and tinned milk.During Hala Week, every grain of food in the dining hall vanished before the closing prayer was said. You either ate the food or you starved. The tuck shop was virtually empty because people could not afford the rock buns and spring rolls. It was no surprise then that the school was literally buzzing with excitement any time it was Visiting Saturday.

The Form 1s and 2s would typically spend their mornings cleaning the house and the Form 3s would lazy about under the guise of supervising. By 12 noon, everyone would take a bath or freshen up. Out came the ‘visiting attires’- everyone had at least one attire that was reserved just for visiting. The girls’ house dresses were shorter and more clingy. The boys’ shirts were actually white- not off white or light cream- but white. Many of the girls would scarf their hair after bathing to make it look well-kept. Lips were well-glossed. Hair was well brushed- moustaches too (if you had one).

By 1pm, the anticipation would be so thick that you could only cut through it with a chain saw. When the gates opened at 2pm, the atmosphere would be charged with excitement. This was Kwamena’s third visiting Saturday and yet he was still amused at how things worked around here. There were people who took it upon themselves to sit on the short wall in front of the house and guess whose parent was approaching- either from the car they were driving or whether or not someone bore a striking resemblance to the visitor.

‘Charles Agyekum please.’

‘Sir, please there is no Charles Agyekum in this house.’

‘Are you sure? Isn’t this Liberation House? This is his house.’

‘Ah, wait oo. He is talking about Rokoto. Can’t you see the little girl looks like him?’

‘Aaaah Rokoto. Yo, K Beck, call him for me. He is in Dorm 3B.’

‘Rokoto? Why on earth is he called that?’

Kwamena muffled his laughter and headed inside to call Rokoto. He could never get over the horrified looks of the parents. Last visiting, a mother discovered that her son had traded his beautiful name Jason for a nickname like Thong Slayer. She looked ready to transfer him from the school and enroll him in a monastery.

Just like everything else in Capital High, visiting had its own unspoken rules. Girls gave different visiting times to different categories of persons- the family came first at 2pm; the sugar daddies at 3pm and the original boos stayed from 4pm to 5:30pm. Even the house prefects had learnt to delay finding a student for his or her visitor when it was obvious that there had been a clash with visiting times. For power couples like Adriana and Curtis, it was romance at its peak. Curtis got a basket of food from Adriana’s mum every Visiting Saturday and they saw off both sets of parents together.

Just as classes of people existed, classes of visiting chow* also existed. There were the Corn Flakes-Horlicks-chocolate chip cookies-canned drinks-Pringles-Papaye kind of people, whose parents came with boxes of bottled water. These were the high and mighty. It was useful to have a friend or two in that category. There were also the Parlays biscuit-Chocolim-plantain chips-Juvita-banku kind of people. Those were the kind that Kwamena loved. There was nothing like a home cooked meal. He wasn’t getting a visitor this time so he could just wander around and observe. He knew he would have something to eat that night. In his dorm, visiting food was eaten communally. The bankus and the fufus went down first and the rices and yams were taken as dessert. It didn’t matter who got visited and who didn’t. Everyone ate together. Of course, there was also the legendary Chow Pae, literally meaning ‘there is food here.’

Chow Pae had a distinctive nose and could tell what food was being eaten, no matter where it was. He had a knack of appearing just after the food was opened with a spoon that could pass for a ladle. Kwamena had heard of him but only saw him in action the last visiting Saturday. He entered their dorm and said, ‘I smell okro soup and banku with snails and wele.’ Even the boy whose food it was was amazed, because he had no idea there were snails in the food. Chow Pae would go and perform his magic from dorm to dorm and by 7pm, he would have eaten all sorts of things- from pizza to akple to pounded yam and egusi soup. To top it all, he never had a tummy upset, not even when the other boys he had eaten with were all running. Surprisingly, because of his ladle-spoon, he ate the lion’s share of any meal- and yet he was as skinny as an emaciated broomstick.

Kwamena spotted Akpene heading for the dining hall.He followed her stealthily and made it look like it was a coincidence that they were both in the dining hall.

‘Nobody is visiting you today?’, he initiated, watching her bite into a bread roll from one of the tables.

‘No. I really don’t want to talk.’

‘That’s fine. We can just sit in silence. Nobody comes to the dining hall during visiting hours anyway. I wonder why the matron bothers to leave bread.’

They sat in silence- just them with bowls of bread and tinned milk in the empty dining hall. He turned over to look at her once or twice. She was lost in thought. He found it extremely cute that she was not bothered by the silence. They sat there until the bell went for visiting to end.

Kwamena didn’t know why but he felt like he had made progress. Outside, some of the girls were bidding their boyfriends farewell and trying to slyly sneak in a peck or two. The dadabas and mamabas were probably crying because their parents were leaving them.

‘See you around, Akpene.’

‘Bye, K Beck.’

 

‘Ms. Ampadu is calling you.’

More out of curiousity than anything else, she made her way to her house mistress’ house. The food Jerry had brought her was getting cold, but it could wait. Something told her that this would be worth it.

‘The reason why I have called you here is very simple. A few of us plan to overthrow Gagert because we are unhappy with the way she is running the school. We would need some student support. That’s where you come in.’

‘Interesting. Tell me more.’

An hour later, Afrakuma smiled to herself as she stepped out of Ms. Ampadu’s house. One of the benefits of keeping a low profile was that very few people knew about her background. Gagert wasn’t family to her but she might as well have been, because she was the one who had given Afrakuma a shot at an education. She had offered to pay her school fees when she was transferred to the school because Afrakuma’s mother could not afford the fees and was tempted to send her daughter off to learn a trade.

That night, she knocked at Gagert’s door.

‘Auntie Gertrude, I know it is late but there is something you need to know.’

See you next week…

*Hala Week- the week where everyone is broke

*chow- food

Capital High Ep 04: Secrets

Welcome to December!! I love Christmas for the obvious reasons- the music, the food, the company and the lights. I am sad to report that Capital High will go on a two week break but we will be back with a bang before Christmas, I promise. Promise you will wait for us! *insert tear-jerking movie soundtrack appropriate for lovers bidding each other farewell* 😊 Oh, and for those of you who want to enroll in Capital High given what happened in Episode 3, hold your horses. I will speak to Gagert this week to see if she still has space for a few more students! Happy reading! 

‘You didn’t need to do that. I can take care of myself’

Those were the first words out of Akpene’s mouth.

‘Wait, what? I was just trying to help here. Don’t make me the enemy.’

‘And all I am saying is thanks but no thanks. I can handle it.’

‘Unbelievable! Because that is what you were doing, isn’t it? Handling it!’

‘Listen! I said thank you, didn’t I? I also said I didn’t need help. You don’t get it, do you? I am used to fighting my own battles. I have been fighting them since I was 6. I don’t need to be helped- not by a tall Michael Jackson who smells like trouble. Besides, did you see the look on their faces? They are more likely to pick on me now that they know the famous K Beck has a ‘stake’ in the matter. You have done me more harm than good. And get this, I didn’t fight back not because I couldn’t. I didn’t fight back because all I want is to pass through this school quietly. I don’t have parents that can swoop in and fix things. I don’t have any exceptional talents to save me from trouble. All I want is to pass my exams and if it takes stomaching taunts from rich, shallow-minded airheads, then that is what I am going to do. So when I say no, thank you, I mean no, thank you.’

A smile played at Kwamena’s lips, not because of the way Akpene’s hips swayed effortlessly in the house dress as she stomped away from him, but because he could relate to her defiance. He too had grown up fighting. He and his brothers had to learn how to survive without a mother simply because their father was both too stubborn and too proud to accept help from anyone, regardless of whether or not they had good intentions. He was drawn to her in some weird way. She didn’t have the Adriana kind of face- her lips were thicker, her eyes bulging and she had lines in her neck. She didn’t have the kind of face that would win Miss Capital High, but she definitely had something that made one look at her and pay attention, something that even her ‘hand me down’ house dress could not hide. And no, it was something more than just her impeccable figure which gave new meaning to the word proportionate.

Kwamena headed into the dining hall and sat waiting for the siren to go off for dinner. With Delali as permanent senior on duty, it was wiser to be five minutes early for any school programme. Today, it was kontomire stew with rice and boiled eggs. Everyone knew it was not really kontomire and everyone also knew that the eggs always vanished mysteriously, right after the grace had been said. When the DHP asked them to rise for the grace, he involuntarily noticed that Akpene was not at her table. He knew that she never missed dining- in fact, she lived for it. Nothing like a woman with a healthy appetite, he thought to himself. When dining was over, he stepped outside and found her kneeling in the graveled courtyard, right in front of the dining hall.

Apparently, she had gone to fetch water for her school mother just before dining and had been spotted by Afrakuma, hence the punishment. Kwamena’s first instinct was to swoop in and save the day, but Akpene’s eyes gave him the ‘stay out of it’ message. He suppressed the Superman in him and walked to his dorm. It was almost time for prep.

Prep.

It was everyone’s favourite time of the day, in Capital High.

For the Form 1s, it was time to catch up on some sleep. Between running errands, entertaining seniors, getting punished and class, there was almost no time to sleep and prep gave them a good two hours of uninterrupted sleep. Those who didn’t sleep spent most of the time chatting or passing round notes. The ‘keeping up appearances’ squad hid magazines and storybooks behind their notebooks, probably not to send the wrong impression to the prep supervisor, that is on days when there was a prep supervisor.

For the boys, it meant the thrill of watching the girls walk into the classroom, hair brushed, lips glossed with their legs on fleek. Prep trousers were the only trousers the girls were allowed to have in school and most of them had taken it upon themselves to alter the trousers to suit them. The prep trousers could metamorphose into anything- from bell bottoms to skinnies to ankle grazers. There were girls who were actually making a fortune out of altering prep trousers. For some other boys, it meant sneaking into the dining hall to watch a football match, when it was Champion League or El Classico season.

It was only Form 3s who studied during prep- even with that, it was just a select few who actually studied for the full two hours. For some of them, that was the time to huddle up with their boyfriends in different parts of the school- the chapel, the dining hall, the common rooms in the house, anywhere they could find. For those whose boyfriends were not in Capital High, prep was the time to wheel out the phones and make calls. The bolder ones went to the phone booth not too far off from the staff common room.

Prep- the time for everything other than what it was originally intended for- studying.

All this happened because Gagert did not live on campus. Everyday at 6:30pm, she would get into her car and drive up the hill to her husband’s house. That was when hell broke loose. Rumour had it that she had her own spies while she was away, and so the fear of being caught always kept things within limits. In Gagert’s school, even chaos and indiscipline had some harmony to it.

In Kwamena’s class, three people studied throughout prep time- Akpene, Kumiwaa and Nicholas. Kumiwaa and Nicholas had potential prefect written all over them. Kumiwaa had a way of walking like her ankles were allergic to the ground and she had this air of importance about her. One of the boys had sent her a love note once during prep. She opened it, read it and sent it back to him, with all the grammatical errors circled. The poor boy had still not been able to live it down. Nicholas was the one that everyone suspected of being Gagert’s spy. All he wanted was to be in the good books of the powers that be. He was also Class Prefect and he took great pleasure in saying, ‘Silence, it is prep time’, every 30 minutes.

When Akpene sat at her desk, she noticed that there was a box of biscuits and a drink on her desk. There was also a note.

‘Miss Independent, I noticed you didn’t get to eat dinner so I brought you something to eat. Don’t worry, nobody saw me put it there. The class was empty when I got here. Nice prep, and oh you are welcome.’

Akpene smiled in spite of herself, folded up the note and looked into her notebook. Her tummy was growling and she was running out of supplies.

This Kwamena guy was something else. As sweet as the gesture was, she was still weary of him. In her experience, men were rarely nice unless they had an ulterior motive. The biscuits remained untouched. Yes, she was hungry but wouldn’t be the first time she had slept on an empty stomach.

Meanwhile, in the staff common room, a group of teachers were meeting. There was a rep from every department as well as a few house masters and house mistresses. The conversation was entirely in hushed whispers.

When the siren went off, one of the boys who had spent all night sleeping jumped up almost as though a gunshot had been fired, with saliva trickling down the left corner of his mouth. Everyone burst laughing and headed out for house prayers.

At Liberation House, Mr Hormeku was waiting with a frown on his face. It was time for an impromptu house search. Kwamena sighed. It was going to be a long night.

_______________________________

Denise didn’t plan to overhear what she heard on Saturday morning when she went to work in Ms Ampadu’s house. She had bent over trying to dust the coffee table in the corner of the living room when she overheard Ms Ampadu on the phone in the next room.
‘That woman has to go. She is unfit to manage the affairs of this school. It is only a matter of time.We just need to set a trap for her to walk into it….no, I don’t trust Hormeku. Everyone knows his wife beats him up. If he can’t handle the woman he lives with, how can he plan a coup? This is serious business. If it goes wrong, we are all screwed. We would have to do this my way. And nobody else must know about it.’

See you next two weeks! 


Capital High Ep 03: Ninos’ Night

Wow! I never expected this much of a response for Episode 2! Welcome to all our new readers! Oh, and a special thank you to all those who gave me ‘intel’ for this week’s episode. People like you make it easy for me to write about the experiences of a mixed sex school, even though I didn’t spend a day in any of them. We have three different milestones to celebrate with this post- 100 blog followers, our 30th blog post today and clocking 50,000 views last week!! I dedicate each one of these little victories to my favourite person in the whole wide world! You make my heart sing! 🙂

And now on to the story! Happy reading!

‘…and the permanent seniors on duty for this term are Delali Kumapley and Afrakuma Gyan. That would be all for this week. Remember to pursue excellence in whatever you do this week. Please rise for the school anthem.’ Jessica Poku, the girls’ prefect, stood straight, almost as though her spine had ironed with a steam iron and spray starch. She was a no nonsense girl and she had earned a reputation of going by the book. The students feared her; those who didn’t, respected her. She didn’t have to raise her voice. Just one look would get you to do what was right. If you looked up prim and proper in the dictionary, you would probably find a picture of Jessica there.

The anthem was preceded by the sound of 1,364 pairs of feet scuffling.

Capital High, a land where dreams are nurtured; Capital High, a land where hope is watered; We will strive for excellence to make Ghana our motherland proud.

Of course, there was a remix.

Capital High, a land where the boys find side chicks; Capital High, a land where the girls rosh their class boys; We will strive to break bounds  and make Gagert our mother dearest cry.

The Forms 2 and 3 boys sang it under their breath. It was shocking that Gagert’s ears had not caught it yet. Perhaps she had heard it and was probably just bidding her time. With Gagert, you could never tell.

Adriana caught Curtis’ eye for the fourth time that morning and smiled. Curtis smiled back and looked away. They had been at this for a week or so. They never spoke- not even in class or when they passed by each other in the dining hall, but Adriana knew it was bound to happen- it was only a matter of time.

When they were dismissed, you could hear murmurs from the Form 2s.

‘Delali bi Permanent Senior on Duty? Boys die finish! That guy bi wicked. Ei, plus Afrakuma too! Charle! Matter oo!’

‘This means we must run everywhere- dining hall, bathhouse, class, entertainment sef! Delali dey worry!’

Another thing was also creating quite the buzz- Ninos’ Night. There were six houses- Liberation, Rawlings, Cleaver, Nkrumah, Unity and Patriots. Whoever named the houses was obviously obsessed with the history of Ghana. Each house was noted for one thing or another; Liberation for dance hall champions, noise makers and trouble causers- they indeed wanted to be liberated, Rawlings and Nkrumah for discipline probably because the girls’ and boys’ prefects lived there. Collectively, they were the seat of government. Cleaver House had all the dadaba girls. Patriots had won the best sportsmen award every year for the last 6 years. The Unity girls were the bad girls- every scandal you could think of usually had a Unity girl involved.

Despite the fact that each house had its forte, Ninos’ Night was a source of rivalry for them. Whichever house put up the best performance got bragging rights for the entire year. It was either Ninos’ Night or the Capital High Inter house sports competition that separated the wheat from the chaff. Each house had been preparing for the performances and teaching the ninos the songs for the procession.

Some Chrife boys and girls had sent a petition to Gagert to ask for permission to be excluded from the Ninos’ Night because some of the songs were unchristian and the whole process seemed almost demonic. Gagert  took one look at the letter and smiled. ‘I get this letter every year and I always ask the same question- should i then exclude you from every unchristian activity throughout your stay here? The answer is always no. Ninos’ night is a great way to welcome you to the school. Take the good and leave the bad. You can apply that lesson to your life as well.’

That night, after dinner, the Form 1s went to their dorms to get dressed for the Nino Procession. Every night, they processed from the gate of the school to the entertainment hall, singing and chanting all sorts of silly things. They had used their school cloth to dress up- Garden of Eden style. The scrawny boys covered their chests and those who had been working out flaunted their 4-packs and 6-packs. They made crowns from twigs and leaves. The girls employed their fashion designer skills to look as seductive and yet school-appropriate as possible. Their school mothers pulled out makeup sets and painted their faces with wild colours like green, purple and pink. Powder and Pepsodent were not left out of the equation. Neither were sponges, pails, Cornflakes boxes, buckets and empty chop boxes. The comedians among them went berserk.

At 7pm, they started the procession. Those in front held kerosine lanterns and wooden torches. Somebody appointed herself choirmistress and gave the tune.

Empty sardine tins, yes we are! Empty Milo sachets too! We are Ninos, yes we are! Give way, give way to us! 

Yefri JSS, the capital town of Primary. Y3ba Capital High, y3b3 som Form 3 fo)!Y3betwe oo, na y’ad) oo, y3ba Capital High, y3b3 som Form 3 fo)!*

Senior Monkey come for banana, come for banana!

We are Gagert’s prisoners for 3 years, her slaves for 9 terms.

By the time they got to the entertainment hall, the room was filled to the brim.

Kwamena’s performance for Liberty was first on the bill. He had been reluctant to dance, preferring to stay out of the limelight. His house prefects had promised to exclude him from housework if he could win this, and that was the only reason why he was here. He got on stage and bowed his head. The spotlights blinded him and he was grateful for that. That way, he could dance without worrying about the audience. Yes, he could hear them but at least he could not see him. He closed his eyes, listened to the starting notes, took a deep breath and began to dance. His performance was a walk through music and dance-from Ben King’s Stand by me through Destiny’s Child’s Say my name to Black Eyed Peas’ Gotta Feeling to Pharell’s Happy. The girls screamed because of the songs and the cute guy, the guys yelled because of his dance moves.

‘Omg! Check that guy out! I hear he is a good basketball player too!’

‘It’s official. He is my crush for 2014.’

‘I know him. He is from my JSS.Our school die3, dance hall champions nkoaa oo!’, Collins quipped.

Yoofi looked at him, shook his head and retorted, ‘Why are you always looking for a claim to fame? That guy was my junior and you were not in my school. You for shun that life. I don’t even know why you are still my friend.’

Kwamena froze and did a moon walk to complete his dance. The girls went wild. Even though he was wearing a mask, his classmates recognized him and started to chant his name.

‘K Beck! K Beck! K Beck! K Beck! K Beck!’

As an afterthought, he threw his hat into the audience just before he went off stage. The girls struggled among themselves to catch it. Even Afrakuma made a dive for the  hat. All the other houses put up performances. The Unity girls did a twerking performance that would have put both Shakira and Miley Cyrus to shame. The boys roared their approval. The Patriots did a Ghana meets Naija collaboration- all the dances- from Azonto to Agbadza in slow mo to Alkayida and finally Shoki. For a sports house, they surprised everyone. When the night’s performances were over, the Entertainment Prefect, Francisca, announced the winners.

‘Best performance was a difficult one. It goes tooooo Liberation House!’

The crowd went wild!

‘The surprise of the night goes to Patriots House. Silence, please! I will now announce the results from the voting, for Mr and Miss Nino 2014. Curtis Addae-Mensah and Adriana Koomson!!

They both walked up to the stage and were given sashes and crowns. The crowd screamed.

Curtis finally looked at Adriana and said, ‘Hi!’ She smiled, revealing her dimples and said, ‘Finally!’

‘The election was rigged. I don’t even know this Adriana girl.’

Denise turned to the girl who had said that and said, ‘Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, you know? The girl won fair and square. Stop hating. It is just because you are not half as pretty as she is.’ She smirked and turned back to cheer her friend.

 

The next day, everyone was talking about the night before.

‘Did you see that chrife boy? He was dancing to Beyonce’s song. Is that one in the Bible?’

‘Maybe it is in Songs of Songs!’

‘Herh, that quiet girl in Unity!! The one in the Science class, the one who is always wearing the thick glasses. Did you see her do the Mapouka dance? Hips don’t lie ankasa!’

‘Mr and Miss Nino die3, power couple oo!’

‘Awww, and Kwamena Welbeck! If he sits anywhere near me during church service or assembly, I would’t hear a word! That guy is fine!’

‘He is not very friendly though.’

‘Reserved is the word. Please leave my boo alone!’

Kwamena was walking to his classroom when he saw a group of girls huddled around the notice board. He drew near when he saw that Akpene was cowering in the corner like a mouse about to be eaten by a lion.

‘How did a girl like you get into our school? Your uncle knows the headmistress eh?’

‘She can’t be a protocol girl, not with her hand me down clothes. With clothes like this, I am surprised the dogs haven’t chased her out of here already.’

Akpene’s eyes met Kwamena’s. He could see that she was used to fighting for herself, but was probably suppressing it to stay out of trouble.

‘Leave her alone.’

The girls looked up in awe and confusion- Kwamena, THE dance hall champ was speaking to them and yes, he was asking them to leave a CFM alone. He had just broken an unspoken rule- show no CFM mercy. There were three groups of people in Capital High: the elites (those who had good looks, wealth, fame or connections), the talents (those who could sing, dance, rap, play a sport or were extremely intelligent) and the CFMs (those who did not belong in either of the first two). Each group looked out for its members and turned a blind eye to the outsiders. Until now.

‘Did I stutter? I said, leave her alone!’

See you next week Wednesday!

P.S: If you have any memories you will like to share, please send me a message via the Facebook page, Kenikodjo, or better still, send me an email- kenikodjo@gmail.com

 

*we are from JSS, the capital town of Primary. We are coming to Capital High to serve the Form 3s. We will scrub and weed. We are coming to Capital High to serve the Forms 3s.

Capital High Ep02: Genesis

Did you read Episode 1? You should probably read that before you read this! Enjoy Episode 2 🙂 

P.S: When you leave a comment, do let me know which school you attended. Happy reading!

Adriana took one look at the neon hands of the alarm clock and the pit in her stomach widened. It was finally here- the first day of school. She was dreading it- the homoing*, the food, the punishments, life without hot water, a phone or cable TV. Her eyes fell on her uniform that had been neatly pressed by Adiza the night before  and sighed.

I better get on with it.

Akpene had been up since 3am. She could no longer contain her excitement. She was desperate to get out of Chorkor and do something with her life. For the first time in her life, she had her own brown sandals and black shoes. Granted, they were hand-me-downs and had seen more than their fair share of wear and tear, but they were hers. She could finally start studying to become a nurse. That way, she could give her mother and her little brother a better life.

Mr Confidence Hormeku was the house master for Liberation House. He prided himself in being the toughest house master in the school- feared by students and teachers. It was no secret that he resented Gagert and thought that he would do a much better job running the school . He also had very bad breath and the Liberation boys had developed a knack for standing in such a way that the ‘aroma’ would not hit their noses, whenever they had to talk to him. His wife had fought with him the night before because he had refused to allow her niece to spend some time with them. Fighting with his wife meant that he had to sleep on the couch. Sleeping on the couch meant back pains. Mr Hormeku was not a happy man that Wednesday morning.

He literally barked at the house captains to make sure that the entrance to the house was spic and span before the newbies arrived. He seized a Form 2 boy’s radio and smashed it to the ground. Everyone knew that it was safer to stay out of his way. It was soon 8 am and the main gates were opened so that the new batch of Form 1s could come in.

 

Curtis reached for the Kiwi liquid polish one last time and took a swipe at his shoes. They turned a corner and all of a sudden, the school stood before them. He had always known that he would come to school here- his father was not Chairman of the School Board for nothing. He asked the driver to park as far away to the house as possible so that he could take his dear time to walk to the house. When he alighted from the Mercedes ML350, he drank in the attention and murmurs that he had now become accustomed to. He made sure that the ‘Curtis P. Addae-Mensah’ inscribed on his trunk was visible and then he began to walk towards Liberation House, followed by the driver and the house boy.

Kwamena Welbeck was next in line to register at Liberation House. He had heard of Mr Hormeku way before he even entered Class 4. His three elder brothers had all been in Liberation House and let’s just say, they left their mark. When he presented his documents to Mr Hormeku, it took him mere seconds to recognize the name. He took one look at Kwamena and turned to the house prefects.

‘You allowed this hooligan into my house? How did this escape me?’

‘Oh Sir, you did not give us any guidelines.’

‘Nonsense. Rubbish. Stupidity!! I specifically said that there should be no Welbecks, no Asrakus and no Yussifs in my house.’

‘But Sir, maybe he is not like his brothers.’

‘Idiot! Can a leopard change its spots? How dare you challenge me?’

Kwamena smiled to himself and held his breath. His brothers used to imitate Mr Hormeku all the time. Meeting him now, he could tell that they were not exaggerating.

‘Why are you smiling? You think this is funny? I vowed that no Welbeck will ever come back to this house. I am tired of this crop of riff raffs. I am transferring you to another house tomorrow. Take your things and get out of my sight!’

Mr Hormeku literally metamorphosed when his eyes met Curtis’. He had heard that the son of the Board Chairman was coming to his house and he was determined to make a good impression on him. He knew that this was his only ticket to becoming Headmaster of Capital High.

‘Young Mr Addae-Mensah, you are welcome. I don’t even need to check through your things. I am sure that your father has provided everything on the prospectus- and even more.’

He laughed at the joke that only he seemed to be getting. Curtis smiled politely and entered the house.

The person next in line wasn’t so lucky. Mr Hormeku refused to let him into the house because he did not have a cutlass.

‘You people think we are joking here? How can you decide what to bring and what to leave out? Go back and buy a cutlass or else you will sleep outside today! Next!’

 

Ms. Ampadu peered over the rim of her glasses and held the tank top at the tip of her fingers.

‘What is this?’

‘I-i-it is a tank top, madam.’

‘Good. Now show me where it is on the prospectus.’

‘Madam, please it is not there.’

‘And yet in your own wisdom, you have decided to include it. First day of school and you are already breaking rules, aren’t you?’, throwing the poor girl the ‘You don’t know who you are messing with’ look.

She bent over and pulled the two gray tank tops that Denise had hidden under her towels and dumped them in the pile beside her. She opened the bag that contained her panties and pulled out a G-string.

‘What are you coming to do with a G-string in this school?’, waving it in the air for the whole world to see. Denise cringed because the girl in the line behind her was with her older brother, who was obviously enjoying the mini drama.

‘First of all, the prospectus says 6 cotton panties. You brought 10 and then to add salt to injury, you have 4 lace G-strings as well. How many can you wear in a day? Or you are one of those who doesn’t plan to wash her panties in school? Not on my watch! Rawlings House is noted for discipline and I am the embodiment of that discipline. Let this be your first and last warning! If your name comes before me again, you will be in trouble!’

Denise cursed her stars for listening to her sister. She had told her that G-strings were the best thing to wear for Entertainment Nights, but she had not told her how to smuggle it into the school without being caught on the first day. She mumbled a thank you and picked up the rest of her belongings and headed into the house.

She spotted her name on a bunk bed and climbed onto the top bunk. The girl on the bed beside her looked miserable.

‘Miss home already? Me too! My name is Denise.’

‘Adriana’

‘Nice to meet you, Adriana. Did you go to Alsyd?’

‘Yes. You?’

‘Faith Montessori’

‘Oh nice’

The house prefect interrupted their conversation.

‘Form 1 girls, Gagert is meeting all of you in the assembly hall in 15 minutes. Don’t be late!’

‘Who is Gagert?’, Adriana asked.

Denise replied,’Probably the headmistress. Let’s go. I am in enough trouble for one day. Can’t afford to be late!’

There was hushed chatter in the assembly hall. Without realizing it, they were already segregating themselves into groups based on which schools they came from, which area they lived in, who their parents were, who was handsome and who was not, etc. The loners were also huddled together

‘Good evening! My name is Getrude Asante-Poku. Your seniors think I don’t know they call me  Gagert, I do. Now if i hear any of you calling me Gagert, it will be the beginning of your end. I will make a scapegoat out of you.’

She walked away from the podium and looked at her phone screen briefly. She was about 5 feet tall and that probably explained why she was in high heels at 5pm in the evening. Her hair was wavy, probably a wig in Denise’s opinion. She was wearing a whistle round her neck.

‘Now, you will be in this school for the next 3 years. It could be more- for those of you who don’t plan to take their education seriously and it could be shorter- for those of you who plan to stir up trouble. I can be very nice and I can be very nasty. Under no circumstance should any of you break bounds and leave the school. If you succeed in doing so, don’t come back.’

The murmuring started again. She blew the whistle and the room went silent again.

‘You’, she said, pointing at a boy sitting behind Curtis,’come up to the front.’

The boy made his way through all 364 of them and walked up to her.

‘Repeat what you said to them’

The boy began to stutter.

‘Another thing you need to know is that I have ears as sharp as that of an owl. I also read lips. I am tempted to make a scapegoat out of this boy but i am in a good mood, so I will let it pass. He said that all I was empty hype and that people break bounds all the time. Don’t fall prey to that story because I won’t spare you. I don’t care if you are the son of the UN Secretary General or the daughter in law of a kayayoo. I will make a scapegoat out of you, mark my words! Young man, go back to your seat.’

The boy scrambled to his feet gratefully and walked back to his seat.

‘By the time you will leave this school, I will know each of you by name. Make sure that whatever comes to mind after your name is mentioned won’t be something to make you squirm in discomfort, ten years from now. Your senior house masters and mistresses will go through the school rules with you in your respective halls. You are dismissed.’

Supper was pretty uneventful because the seniors had eaten while they were in the assembly hall. The rice and stew with boiled eggs was not so bad and most of the boys quaffed it down, unperturbed by the girls on their tables. Most of the girls chose not to eat, but not Akpene. She had never had a whole boiled egg to herself before- she was beside herself with joy.

That night, the Form 3s welcomed them to the school in grand style.

‘Form 1 girl, mount the bed. I said,stand on the bed’

‘Raise one leg and count to 1000’

‘Sing me a lullaby’

‘Stand here and make sure that no mosquito bites me. If I wake up with one bite, you will weed tomorrow.’

‘Your sister was entertainment prefect. I know you can dance! Stop being a hypocrite!’

‘Yeees, what did your father say you should bring to me?’

‘Do 50 one-arm pushups before you sleep’

‘Hey Form 1 boy, go and press the bell at Gagert’s house and bring her here. If you don’t do that, you won’t sleep!’

By 1am, the whole school was quiet. Akpene lay on her bed and smiled.

I am finally free. Uncle Koku can’t bother me anymore.

Denise woke Adriana up and said, ‘It’s time to go and bath. I fetched water for you.’

Adriana took one look at the bucket of water and cringed. Dipping one finger into the water, she yelped. The water was ice cold. She carried the bucket and followed Denise into the bathhouse. She was surprised to see this many naked bodies in one space, obviously oblivious to the fact that this was supposed to be strange.

‘Wait, what? Am I supposed to just take off my clothes and bath? What if someone has a disease or something?’

‘Don’t you have sisters?’

‘No, I am an only child and I don’t like naked bodies.’

‘Just take off your clothes. I will help you with the first pail of water.’

Adriana obeyed and shut her eyes. Her body was already covered with goosebumps from the gust of fresh air that just swept through the bathroom. When the ice cold water touched her body, she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

See you next week Wednesday! 🙂

 

*homoing- hazing for Form 1s in their first term.

Mamaba

Every now and then, I like to try something new. This time the story is told solely from the first person’s perspective. Let me know what you think! Enjoy the rest of the weekend- Keni!

‘Your mother doesn’t like me.’

The words hung awkwardly in the air. I desperately needed him to deny it, for him to assuage my fears. I fidgeted with my nails for what seemed like eternity. Then I tried again.

‘Jeffrey, are you there?’

‘Yes, I am here’, he answered quietly.

There was that awkward silence again.

I had my answer.

I mumbled a quick ‘I will talk to you later’ and hung up.

I met Jeffrey’s mum earlier today. Jeffrey and I had been together for three years and yet this was the first time I was meeting her. I didn’t find it particularly strange because she was rarely in the country. I had seen pictures of her and almost every night that Jeffrey was with me, he spent a few minutes on the phone with her, telling her about his day. She had come back from Canada the night before and I was supposed to meet her that day.

I went through all my ‘appropriate for meeting the in law’ clothing twice and I still couldn’t find anything that was good enough.I desperately wanted to make a good impression. Jeffrey’s father had passed away when he was 17 and he was the only child. She was the only person in his life he looked up to. I had to get it right. I finally settled on a sleeveless yellow sundress and purple sandals. I pulled my hair in a bun and put on some lip gloss. Just before I left home, I splashed on some perfume- the perfume Jeffrey got me for Christmas.

Hopefully, I wasn’t going to send the ‘I am desperate for you to like me’ message, but rather the ‘I am the woman your son should marry’ message. When I got to the house, the atmosphere felt different- almost like how prep in secondary school felt when the senior house mistress was on patrol. Jeffrey tried to calm me down but the moment I heard her footsteps, the nervousness escalated once again.

She descended the stairs with such grace and authority that I had no choice than to scramble to my feet.  By the time she had sat down, my palms were sweating and all the creative conversation starters had fled from my head. She was wearing a long flowing coral blue linen dress. She had a short weave on and she was wearing red lipstick. Her acrylic nails were also painted cherry red. She had enough gold on her to make Otumfuo look like a pauper- three rings, one bracelet and one necklace with two pendants- a cross and the letter J, probably standing for Jeffrey. When she sat down, she crossed her legs, revealing an anklet.

What sort of 60 year old woman wears an anklet?

I gulped.

‘Good afternoon, Auntie Valerie. You have a lovely home.’

‘Just how much of this home have you seen? Don’t tell me you have already been to my son’s bedroom .’

And no, she didn’t have a smile on her face.

‘Mummy! That’s not nice’

‘Jeffrey, don’t tell me that. It is a legitimate question. You are a handsome young man and you were living all by yourself. Is it out of place to ask that question?’, she said, all the while looking at me with disapproval.

‘Jeffrey, it is fine’, I said, desperate to move away from the shaky start.

I could feel her eyes scrutinizing me. They moved from my hair to my makeup to my dress and finally rested on my nails. I began to curse my stars for not quitting this habit of biting my fingernails.

This is a disaster! 

‘Your perfume smells familiar. Estée Lauder, isn’t it? Jeffrey bought the same thing for me for Mother’s Day three years ago.’

I didn’t think she needed to add that, but somehow I felt like she was sending the  ‘I was here before you’ message. I got the message, loud and clear!

What kind of the-Gods-are-not-to-blame* dilemma is this?

‘Are you staying for dinner?’

‘No please.’

‘That’s a pity. You should come by for a meal before I leave.’

‘I will, thanks.’

Jeffrey was an amazing boyfriend- thoughtful, patient and sweet, but after thirty minutes with his mother, I also discovered that he was a mummy’s boy- the extreme kind.

What did she have against me? Was it my tribe? Or the fact that I was an orphan? Or probably just because I chewed my finger nails? And Jeffrey just sat there and said nothing, like some puppy seeking approval from its master. Aaargh!

‘I am the one you are marrying, not your mother!’

‘I know that, Selma. But she is my mother for God’s sake! How can I say no to her?’

‘You don’t seem to have a problem saying no to me. That’s where the problem is! It is always about your mother ever since she got back. At no point have you asked me what I want.’

This was the fourth time this week that we were arguing, and once again, it was about his mother.

At the beginning of this week, he had stood me up for a date because his mother needed company at her yearly women’s conference dinner. I would have come along if he had asked, but he didn’t. We both knew why- his mother didn’t want me there.

Every other time, there was always something.

My mother this, my mother that.

Each time I complained, his response was ‘Give it time. She will get used to you.’

This time, she wanted us to have a private wedding ceremony instead of the big church wedding we had been planning for the last fourteen months. I wanted a big wedding because I wanted my friends and colleagues there. They had become my family and I wanted them to share in my big day. Once again, Jeffrey had caved in. I was livid.

The day before she left, she invited me to dinner. I was determined to try one last time. I went early so that I could help her with the meal- cabbage stew and boiled rice.

After chopping up the vegetables, I washed my hands and subconsciously flung my hands in an attempt to dry them. Cruella de la Valerie took one look at the three or four drops of water on her peach-coloured floor tiles and coldly handed me a napkin.

‘In this house, we dry our hands with a napkin. This is not a village kitchen.’

What the-

I blinked back the tears and swallowed the choice Ga words that had risen to the tip of my tongue. I lived with some typical Gas once and they had given me a crash course on ‘Waging War the Ga way 101’, but it was not worth it. She was the mother of the man I loved, I could not just let myself loose- not for three drops of water on her precious kitchen floor.

We soon sat down to have dinner. She started telling a story about Jeffrey being allergic to groundnuts.

‘Thank God he is no longer allergic to them because I eat them all the time.’

‘You have been exposing my son to groundnuts?’

‘He has never reacted to them. I am sure he has overcome the allergy.’

‘Young lady, I have been his mother longer than you have even been alive. When I say he is allergic to something, I know what I am talking about. You can’t just waltz in here and change things. ‘

There was silence. It was deafening. Jeffrey kept staring at his plate. I felt the anger well up within me.

Weakling! You can’t even defend me when your mother is clearly bullying me.

I had had it. I folded the napkin calmly and got up from the dinner table.

‘Enjoy dinner and have a safe journey back.’

She looked unfazed. I could have sworn that I saw a smile subtly play around her lips. Jeffrey followed me to the door.

‘Are you just going to leave?’

‘Oh, surprise surprise! He has a tongue after all! Who would have thought?’

‘I didn’t want to make it look like we were ganging up against her. She is very sensitive about these things.’

‘So you would rather make it look like I was the outsider? Brilliant idea, Jeffrey. Simply brilliant.’

‘Selma-‘

‘So long as you stay married to your mother, there won’t be space for another woman. I am clearly not welcome here. Goodbye Jeffrey.’

Turning on my heels, I walked off.

The entire time I was walking away, I kind of hoped and prayed that he would call me back, that he would choose me, but he didn’t.

I guess, between his mother and I, I was always going to be the side chick.

I saw them again today at West Hills Mall. He was pushing a cart full of groceries and her arm was cradled in the crook of his, bride and groom style. I was surprisingly indifferent and calm, and yet i was thankful that they didn’t see me.

I hope you are happy together…

*Mamaba- mummy’s boy 

*the Gods are not to blame- a play written by Ola Rotimi, in which a boy ends up marrying his mother.

Capital High Ep01: They are coming

Episode 1

Yoofi groaned inwardly when the siren went off. That was the one thing he hated about Capital High- that loud intrusive siren that dictated when to eat or sleep. He was a nocturnal person and could stay awake until 3am. Just when he was settling into the cozy arms of sleep around 4:45, the siren would go off.

Back to the same old routine.

He liked Capital High- when the siren was not blurring. For a public school, it was pretty well-run. They had well-trimmed lawns, clean bathrooms and the food was not so bad. Even the rats knew how to stay out of sight. He could see that Gagert had spent some money painting the walls during the vacation and he could still hear her warning them at opening assembly not to write on the walls, in her high pitched ‘capable of breaking glass’ voice.

Gagert.

That woman was a legend, to say the least.

He had no idea how she had come by that name but that was what his seniors were calling her when he came to the school. And that is what their seniors had also handed down to them. He could only guess that her first name, Gertrude, had something to do with it. Gagert was responsible for transforming the school into what it had become today, and she never missed an opportunity to rub it in anyone’s face- for the umpteenth time! She was rather hefty but rumor had it that she could run after and catch up with anyone at all- especially when the person was trying to escape punishment. One of the athletes who had told Yoofi the story said, ‘Charle, then I figure say I be runner, but Gagert dey run! Stop! Ibi me I dey talk you so you for see say I make serious.’

It was yet another term with Gagert- his first term in 2 Arts 2. He had not landed in her bad books yet and he intended to keep it that way. Form 1 was such a struggle because he was always trying to keep up with the siren but he was hoping that Form 2 would be different. Up ahead, he could see Collins talking with Akunor. Akunor was one of the cool kids, Collins was one of the ‘I’d tell a lie to appear cool’ guys. Last term, he had made quite a fuss about having the latest Nike kicks*, only for them to discover that they were not original and they were not even his. Ever since then, Collins had been trying to get back into the cool squad.

‘I hear this Busta Rhymes song this vac oo.The title bi-‘

‘Ma guy, who still dey listen Busta Rhymes? Why are you always trying to remain relevant? Shun that life!’

The boys stopped chatting because Mr Krampah had turned the corner and was walking towards them. He was the Elective Mathematics teacher and his specialty was confusing students and whipping the consciousness out of them.

‘Herh, have you started revising what I taught you last term? Class test, first thing tomorrow morning. Pass mark is 9/10!’

Yoofi smiled to himself.

Not much has changed after all.

The Form 1s are coming!!

Cleaver House was literally buzzing with excitement. The newbies were landing the next day.

The list of Form 1s had been posted on the notice board near the front door. Most of the Form 3 girls huddled around it that night, trying to pick a school daughter for the next year.

‘These things, you have to pray about them oo. Don’t just pick anyone to sleep on top of you. Do you know what she is bringing from her house?’

‘Ei Grace nono! Everything must be spiritsu*. When you prayed, what did God show you?’

‘Ei, what kind of name is Agbormetodzi?’

‘I like this one. Her name is dadabee- Clarisse Briandt-Coker’

‘So me na I look like I deserve a surname like Asamoah eh?’

‘Ah, but what is wrong with Asamoah? Why are you people being tribalistic? Fante and Asante, aren’t they the same thing?’

‘This Adriana girl, did she go to Alsyd Academy? I have heard about her papa!’

‘What if the girl pees into the bed at night? My nose is sensitive oo!’

‘I know this girl. She is my boyfriend’s cousin.’

‘Which of your boyfriends?’

“Herh, Ernestina, what are you implying? That I am an ashawo*? Is it my fault that Koomson left you for me? If he was really yours, he would not have left.’

‘You have no shame!’

‘Ladies, there is no need to quarrel. The Bible says-‘

“Grace, don’t come and quote scripture here! This is not the place nor the time.’

The bickering went on for a while, but in the end, every girl had chosen a school daughter.

Well, almost everyone but Afrakuma.

Afrakuma settled on her bed and opened a box of Digestive biscuits to go with her pineapple Kalyppo.

‘Why didn’t you pick one?’, Shormeh asked curiously.

‘I deliberately didn’t pick any of these ones. My target is the protocol list; that’s where the real meat is. Who knows, my school daughter might be the Vice-President’s niece. Before you know it, I will be invited to state functions. You need to think ahead, you see?’

Shormeh laughed out loud. Trust Afrakuma to think outside the box.

‘Lights out!!’

Francisca, the bossy assistant house prefect was trying to stamp her authority and show everyone that she was the one who called the shots. But everybody knew that the real boss was Afrakuma. Nobody could touch her. Nobody really knew how she had become this powerful, but nobody dared defy or threaten her.

Her light stayed on for a good 45 minutes after Francisca had belted out her command. She wasn’t using the light. She was sending a message to Francisca.

I may not sleep in the prefects’ room but I’m the real boss around here.

She could not wait for morning. Even though she would probably not admit it, she was excited. The form ones were coming!

*kicks- sneakers

*spiritsu- spiritual

*ashawo- prostitute, flirt

Yep, our very first episode! And this time, you don’t have to fight me for sequels- you will get them. Lots of them, this and every Wednesday 🙂 The official artwork for this series is by my talented adopted little brother Gregory Nartey, a student of Kwame Nkrumah University. 

When you leave a comment, add the name of your school too! 

P.S: Caught by the SHS/SSS nostalgia bug? Share your memories and stories with me–> kenikodjo@gmail.com. Who knows, they might be inspiration for another episode. See you next week!