The flame before the calm

I felt pity for myself. I was not used to such inglorious manual labour but here i was, compelled to “slay” the field in his words. I collected the rust machete and went straight to the field blaming myself for the foul outburst. I knew violence did not solve any issue but whatever compelled me to tow that path was what i am yet to comprehend as lost track of time to complete the portrait should it be found at all, to the clearing of a stubborn bush, something the form master thought was commiserate to my temperament.

I took off my shirt and hung it on the dying peach tree that seated in the centre of the infamous west end. I stretched a bit before clutching the rust machete. I then waded through the sea of grasses before i picked a spot to start from. I waited to see the class rep but he was nowhere close to the west end. I concluded he must have been served a more benign punishment, since he was a class rep after all. I began slowly taking off the lighter weeds before proceeding to the one that boasted with their area father status. I made significant progress, clearing with untold determination, hoping the form master would be impressed whenever he came for inspection.

I kept clearing with chunks of blisters that were beginning to caress my soft palms. I tried ti turn the machete to the right hand which was the less efficient and under used hand between the pair as blisters was ravaging my left palms. I was still clearing when i felt the presence of an intruder, locked behind me. i felt somehow joyous with the hope that the form master was up in a bit to inspect my progress and my obedience. I was tempted to raise my face and see him but i thought otherwise as i was bent on impressing him. i waited eagerly for that scruffy voice to say one or two things that might allay my sorry plight but i was taken aback by the voice that spoke.

“What is your offence?” I heard a sweet voice ask me. It sounded melodious and soothing that i had to look up to unravel the mystery behind the voice. Our eyes met when i raised my face and for a moment i was rooted to the ground by the amazing beauty standing over me. My eyes quickly scanned her through and through before i let fall on the tag on her puffed chest. Like a flash I memorised the name i saw notwithstanding her mission. I knew she was one of the seniors, a prefect and labour at that but she was quite pretty for that position.

“Sanitary prefect would have been more befitting, Eve.” i thought aloud,

“Excuse me?” she retorted. I stared blankly at her and then returned to my punishment. “Do i sense insolence, young man?” she remonstrated. I ignored her and continued working. “i suppose i am talking to someone here!”

“You can call anything... but definitely not a young man!” I protested, raising my head briskly to meet her searching eyes.

“What then should i call you?”

“Fabro!” i answered with hesitation.

“Well... master Fabro, i am here on the count of your present punishment but since you are disinterested, you might as well clear out the whole of west end! She said with a mock smile, feeling victorious and she was indeed victorious because i raised my face immediately to meet her victorious face.

“I am not sorry... you can do your worse already.” I declared, puncturing the balloon of her short-lived victory.

“Are you these rude and arrogant, all the time?”

“I am not rude... neither am i arrogant!”

“Then, why are you like this? I don’t think i have been rude to you, since i got here!”

“I apologise, if i have been rude to you Eve!”

“Hold up there... who told you my name?”

“Your tag...” i said, pointing directly to her puffed chest. I wondered why her chest was all furnished at this seemingly young age.

“I see...” she said, looking down on me. i ignored her overtures and stared steadily at her on purpose. I wanted to upset her and get her uncomfortable and it worked perfectly. The blazing red hot Eve soon turned into flickering and smouldering embers. “Why are you staring at me like that?” she queried, hiding her shyness in mock courage.

“You are beautiful...” i said calmly, as i continued to torment her with an unnecessary gambit, the one of a skilled opponent. I knew i was winning the war but to what end, i knew not.

“Are you trying to get me nervous?” She blushed.

“Why should i? i just told the truth and it would have been more decent had you said thank you!”

“Well... thank you, if that is what you want to hear!”

“You welcome then!”

“So what was your offense?”

“Didn’t they tell you of it?”

“I wouldn’t be asking... if they had told me...”

“I fought!”

“You fought? With who?”

“With my class rep...”

“Moses? She sounded alarmed. How did you mange that?

“Are you going to review my punishment or are you going to stand there and interrogate me to death?”

“You are clearly a stubborn boy,,, aren’t you?

“I rather doubt it!

“So, how long have you been working here...” she eyed me, obviously tired of my elusive and unpredictable approach.

“Thirty minutes... i guess.”

“Alright... i would have released on the count of your behaviour but it appears you don’t want to learn manners... so you will spend another thirty minutes of intensive hard work, else. You will serve another hour should you choose to play around time... are we clear?”

“Yes ma’am!” i answered her with a mock salute. She regarded me haughtily and then left.

Fatou

I found myself more interested in Fabro after the fight with the class rep. My interest was basically spurred by curiosity as i sat quietly, wondering he pulled off that upset in the fight. Although the class was the favourite to knock him out, i found that he was basically the dark house. He was well articulate. He threw his punches with sheer calculations. Such a man deserved to be feared- Quiet but monstrous. I turned to his locker as the literature yapped away and saw how scattered his properties were. I wondered where he was, since the class rep was already in class. He must have been undone by the prevalent injustice that favoured the so called prefects and class reps.

The class lasted for a period but i was disinterested in it and when the teacher was done, i felt she had finished blabbing. I turned again to study the broken locker and his scattered materials littered indiscriminately in the inner desk. For once, i pitied him. i wondered who would have encouraged into his privacy. That was when i realized that Fatamata had been absent from class, since the end of the long break. I suspected her at that time because she had been so interestingly curious about the ways of the quiet Fabro. She had wanted to know everything about him, in every given opportunity.

The class had become restless again, since the literature teacher left. Usual groups were formed again, discussing one thing: the fight. It was obvious the class was yet to know their newest member and the qualities he possessed because they kept saying “the boy never ceases to amaze us.”

I knew they were right. He was a rough diamond and no one knew his worth, probably because he was sullen half the time, banning everyone from his space as he basked in his sorrows and joys alone. He was annoyingly forlorn, a character we both shared.

I was still in the delirium of my thoughts when Fatamata, my seatmate entered the class, she more like sneaked into the class. My suspicion were made bare as she sat, sweating on the little space the hijab exposed. The class grew so restless, so much that her entrance was abysmally insignificant.

Where have you been, Fatamata? I asked her for the first time, since we became seatmate. She looked at me and i saw she was obviously nervous. Why was she nervous and why were beads of sweat, pooling around her puffy forehead? I asked myself.

“Where is Fabro?” She asked agitated.

“I don’t know... but there have been a fight.”

“A fight?” She was shaken.

“Yes, Fabro and Moses.”

Poor boy... he must have been smacked despite the ruins meted to his locker.

Smacked? He was a lion in the fight.

Really?

What happened? I quizzed her, satisfying my suspicion. What do you know about his vandalized locker?

The final year students did it! She affirmed. I was in the class when they came, about six of them. They were visibly raged by his captaincy in the school football team. Something i heard from them as they broke the desk, ignoring my presence. When they finished they dragged my along to their class, where they kept me hostage, threatening me that i shouldn’t say a word of it or they would haunt me and make my life miserable in the school.

“That’s mean!” I blurted out. “Who do they think they are anyways?” Fatamata’s face told a lot about the horrors she might have witnessed at the hands of those miscreants. I felt a surge of anger. I hated bullies because they are unnecessarily oppressive.

I felt the urge to go and report them to the form master. I wanted to teach them a lesson but that annoying spirit that perpetually urged me to remain calm, rushed through my thoughts quelling any urge to act responsibly.

Why don’t you report this to the class rep? I suggested, trying to shift the responsibility to the class rep.

“No... Those boys will be pissed and they will come after me.”

“Very well then... i will do it! I declared as i rose immediately like someone who had sat on a hot coal. I wanted to match my action with my thoughts this time. Fatamata protested but i would not be dissuaded. I marched on to the class rep, who was busy clutching his wrist. Fabro’s grip had a left a mark on him. He lifted his face to meet my curious face. She visibly surprised because that was the first time, i would talk with him. i had been a snub and i knew it.

“Can you talk?” I asked.

“Yes...” he hesitated.

“Fabro’s locker was broken by the final year class...”

So, what do you want me to do?

They took along with them Fatamata and Fabro’s art material... she is back but the materials are not yet back.

I have no business whatsoever with his lost material... they should do to it whatever pleases them.

“But this is your class?”

“And so what? Was he informed of that before he engaged me?”

“So, this is about revenge, right!”

“I do not care!”

“Very well then... i will get it back myself.” I said in a class that has suddenly grown quiet, listening from ear to ear my first official discussion with anyone in the class.

What is wrong with everyone today? I heard the class rep grumble.

Seems someone has unlocked tongues today. Essiet joked. They were rounds of shrill laughter but i was obviously not interested as i went to Fatamata, dragging her along with me to the door, bidding her to follow me. She protested, trying to extricate herself but my grip was firm. We walked a distance before i let go of her hands.

“I won’t go further... i don’t want any troubles!”

“Don’t be such a coward! You shouldn’t have allowed them to oppress you just like that...”

“What choice do i have? They were boys...”

“Does that give them the license to pick on anyone they will because they are boys?”

“You know we can match them...”

“Please, let’s go back to the class or better still report this to the form master.”

“That would take long... we are here already. Just show where their class is.”

“Over there... she pointed. But are you really prepared for this?”

“I am good with it...” i said, surging towards the class she pointed. I was surprised by the much energy i was already exuding. I saw my wisdom consumed by my zeal and courage. I ascended into the class confused. i had no idea of who i was going to talk to. I hesitated a bit at the door as nerve took its toll on me. i knew i had come far, backing out at the front of the class made no sense to me.

I entered the class calmly. I felt one thousands eyes fixed on me. i wanted to fall to their devouring eyes but i held myself steadfastly. I went to the first person my instinct directed me to. I enquired from her who the class rep was and she affirmed that she was. I doubted her because i saw cynicism in her smiling face. But she insisted she was the class rep. I told her my mission. She stared blankly at me for a while, confusing me the more. I was about to give up when she suddenly spoke, erasing every doubt i had for her claims. She rose and walked to a set of boys that was sitting noisily at the back. She made some animated discussions with them before turning my back to me with chunks of white sheet that i suspected was Fabro’s art work. She came to me and handed them over. I thanked her and turned my back to the class as i headed for the door amidst indiscreet gibberish sounds.

I went back the class, feeling victorious. The journey was not violent but it was most rewarding. I wondered why people resulted to violence when negotiation was handily effective. Fatamata’s was surprised at what she called heroism. But within me, i knew i did not fight any battle. My courage and discretion fought those battles for me. i opened my locker and stuck the papers inside, waiting for Fabro’s return, so i could hand them over but he did not return until the school dismissed.

I waited for him because i was sure he needed his papers. The class was empty when he returned, looking ruffled and sweaty as strands of grasses decorated his hair. I did not need empiricism to decode he was worn out. He walked straight to his desk, ignoring me. i guess the memories of our last encounter were obviously still with him. He picked up his bag, then strapped them in his back and turned, facing me with an empty face.

“Here are your papers.” I said, handing him his materials. He studied them, obviously suspicious of me. i knew i had to clear the air. So I told him about the gimmicks of the final year students. He nodded and thanked me.

I thought he was going to stay back and finish his work like he used to, so i turned and left him but his feet were ever closer to my hearing distance. He was right behind me. i was nervous and uncomfortable. Especially by the little space he afforded me.

“Why did you wait?” I heard him ask, breaking the uncomfortable silence that pervaded between us as walked through the lawn.

“I believe you needed to work on it after school.” I said, after which the silence between us grew thicker. i was relieved when we parted at the gate. I was surprised Amad was still waiting. I greeted him and saddled at the back seat before he drove off.

Cheik

The truck swayed and dangled from left to right as we journeyed with our eyes fixed to where we are coming from. We had no idea where the truck took us. Horrors pervaded our faces as we where occasionally hauled back to the reality of our sorry plight each time the truck fell negotiated a gallop. I was terrified as my body shook with hunger and trickled with coagulated blood. I hated myself. I blamed myself for such an irrational fellow. Had i stayed back, i would have gracefully sorted out the hunger issue without falling into the hands of trigger happy captors.

My eyes roamed through the dark truck and i could feel the fear of my fellow captives. We said little, yet our heart beat filled the crevices of the truck. We fate was unknown. We had no knowledge of what would happen to us. We have stories of conscriptions, since the inception of insurgency, yet we had no term to describe our current predicament. Fear only made it more descriptive.

The truck took its time to consciously plunge into steeps and gallops, making unannounced stops at various places. I prayed silently within me that we should be flagged down at any military check point. I imagined us being hauled down by the soldiers. I imagined that they would have pity on us by giving us food first. The situation was extremely callous and incomprehensible. It killed us before our death. Worse still, i was weak, hungry and bleeding. i knew my death lurked around like a shadow chasing a substance.

Silence made the journey more uncomfortable. No one was interested in saying anything. Some that had strength whimpered; others miffed one or two words of prayers to Allah, hoping he would descend in his grace and help us from the dark fate that loomed ahead of us.

“Allah Akbar...” a voice kept haunting us in the darkness. It was a distressed voice that gave Allah praise. I secretly drew strength from his chanting and hopeful prayers that always ended with praises to Allah.

“Our future is bleak. No one knows what they will do to us.” A voice spoke in a pure Hausa.

“They would obviously gorge our eyes out before ripping our hearts off!” Another voice reacted to the rhetoric question of the first speaker. Both spoke fluent Hausa; the type they spoke dwarfed the type i knew.

“They don’t rip hearts off... neither do they gorge eyes off!” the first voice retorted.

“Then what will they do to us?” The second asked with horror in his voice.

“They would chop our heads off and plant it on a stake.” They were miffed sounds of terror at the sound of that. i could not see through the darkness but i was certain many clutched their hearts in fear; others gripped their head in fear.

“Don’t be fools... Allah would not let any harm to come to you... except you are an infidel!” That familiar prayerful voice waded in, diffusing the pent up tension of death.

“So what then do they want from us... if not to rip our hearts or chop our heads off?”

“You have been conscripted to do Allah’s work... you are now soldiers of faith.” He sounded so confident about his statements but no one paid him any attention. We were all in the same predicament, who was he to know more anyone else. I thought and believe many thought in that line as well because the snivelling sounds of horror were not abated.

The journey lasted for endless hours as we traversed through the tarred roads to the narrow bush paths. The idea to jump off the truck swelled in my head but i was too conscious of the implications: a hungry stomach, broken limbs, and well armed militarized arcades stopped me in my tracks. I know the brutes will not hesitate in releasing various shot at me, should i dare. So i maintained my position. I was weak bodily but i felt a sudden surge of confidence running through my veins and corpuscles. No matter what happened, i was resolved that i would not die before my death came.

We journeyed through various patches of the road until we came halting at a spot. I was certain that was our last stop for the herculean journey as i heard feet shuffling aggressively here and there, scurrying to get things in order. It was long before we head thousands of feet marching towards our truck. They lifted up the tarpaulin and began to haul us down. One by one, we were all marched down militantly, making various violent gestures and speaking occasionally in Fulani and Arabic, mixing it occasionally with Hausa. They barked and rained diverse unprintable abuses on us as they marched us to a secluded room.

I hoped they might have mercy on me and go easy with me but that was the case. They hauled me on like every other healthy person. They marched to a very large piece of land where a massive tent stood erect at the middle. We marched into the tent and saw something extravagantly frightening. They were more than thousand dozen of boys in there. I was terrified. I thought that prayerful voice was right after all. My strength began to fail me. i knew it would not be long before i pass out. They took us to a secluded place in the tent. They ordered sit and we obeyed without second thought. Within a short while, someone came and inspected us. He made no comments and then moved on to the other quarter. They various coming for their inspection and someone ordered me to stand. He inspected me, feeling my bones and my physique. I think he was satisfied despite my weakness. In a bit, light food was brought to our cycle and we ate. Someone came and dressed my wound. I felt momentarily relieved but i was very far from home and that bothered me.