I saw stars. Secondary School Series (SSS1)

My name is Franklin and this the story of my secondary school days.

“Obi! Obi!! Obi!!!”

That was Senior German screaming my surname from the boys’ hostel gate. One of my classmates had informed, me about ten minutes earlier, that I was a dead man. Actually, anybody that falls into Senior German’s trap could as well as be dead and buried, sooner or later. He was one of the most dreaded seniors in SS3, even school prefects dared not challenge him.

He was huge and tall and his favourite position when playing football was defence. He would boast he was a German defender and that no striker could penetrate his wall, and true to his words, most times his team won’t be eliminated from the round of sets and they would go home as champions for that day. But actually, he didn’t know or understand how to play the beautiful game of soccer, hehehehe. All he could do was shout, make noise and unnecessarily charge at opposing strikers.

Back to our story… 😂😂

So what did I do to Senior German that I was about to die for...?

On Thursday of the same week, one of my friends, Chidi, who lived in the staff quarters with his guardian gave me a white school shirt to return to Senior German. Senior German had given him the shirt to wash and use electric Iron to press it so he could wear it for Sunday mass, as that Sunday was SS3 Sunday, a very important Sunday for all the SS3 students.

The school generator had developed some mechanical issues that week and Chidi couldn’t do anything about the shirt and in order not to cause inconveniences for Senior German he returned it to me to give to German soon enough. But I forgot… until this Saturday evening, which was even rainy and humid.

“Where that idiot dey sef? Obi!” Senior German roared again.

Cold shivers ran down my spine as I walked briskly towards him like a boy who failed to do his weekend homework does to the front of his class,😂😂

“Come chop slap, come chop slap”, he ordered, and like a sheep being led to the slaughter, I obeyed with my hands behind my back.

“taaah!” on my right cheek. “taaah!” on my left cheek. And like on a cold and dry harmattan night, I saw bright stars fall off my eyes only this time tears followed them.😂

“Where the shirt wey them give you make you give me?”

“Which shirt senior? Nobody give me anything o”. I had totally forgotten about the shirt.

“Oh, e be like say your brain still dey boot, come chop another slap make the booting dey faster”. German said.

And just like that, I collected two more slaps.😄

 But something happened…like a miracle I instantly recalled everything that happened on the day I collected the shirt in tiny, little, accurate and exact details. Na me come turn dey beg German for mercy.

I had to wash the white shirt that humid night, it didn’t dry through the night but yet I ironed it with coal pressing iron. The shirt shaa ‘thunder strike’ (that is, it had stains) but I gave it to Senior German like that. I cannor come and kill myself on top another person shirt.

…to be continued.