By Ogbemi O. Omatete

The third part of this discourse was published in  Monday’s edition of Vanguard.
BEHIND these were the white enamel toilets, where you pulled on a chain to flush after use and water came tumbling down to clean it out.

For a boy used to the pail or bush system, this was paradise. There were rumours about this infamous toilet in Sapele. An important local visiting a European in his AT&P quarters used the toilet. When he flushed and heard the roaring as the water cascaded down, ran out nude. I did not run out when first I used it at Ughelli. But I was scared. After shower, we went for breakfast.

Dressed in my now slightly soiled white short and white shirt and walking with other boys to the examination room, I imagined what it would be to become part of this paradise and decided to concentrate on passing the examination. We went in and were given the question papers. I flipped to my favourite section, arithmetic, and attacked it. There were problems I could not solve so I went to other questions and tackled them. I was unable to answer all the questions and felt devastated when we were asked to stop. The answer papers were collected. Later, we went for individual interviews with the Principal of the School, a European, whose name I learnt later was Mr. Carter.

Physical examination

This was followed by physical examination including health check in the nude by school nurse, an African man, in the presence of the European. That was it. “The short list examination and interview” was over. We left for our various homes. I can barely recall the journey through Warri to Sapele, because all the way back I fantasized over Government College, Ughelli and how, I believed, I had blown the opportunity that I had. Back home, my aunt and family welcomed me and asked about the trip. As usual, I handed my aunt all the papers I brought back, which she took although she was illiterate.

I believe she took them to literate adults to read for her. I tried to describe the beauty of the school to them but could not quite convey the effect it had on me. Aunt never asked me about how I did on these examinations. She must have believed I would do well. If that was it, she had more faith in me than I had in myself because I was convinced I would not make it into Ughelli on this first attempt. Consequently, I decided to study from that time until the next opportunity and come on top, if that was what it took. Thus, when Aunt went to trade in Sapele market, instead of going to school, I would stay home and study whatever I could find.

After a few weeks of truancy, word came that I was wanted urgently at school. I realized that nemesis had caught up with me and the retribution would be grievous: canning at school, shouting at and whipping by Aunt, and probably being taken before granduncle Olumani Fregene, for further canning and admonishment; and I would then be made to promise that I would never ever stay away from school again. I resigned myself to all of these and went bravely to school the following day. Instead of the hostile reception I expected, the Standard Six teacher, a tall, stern-looking, lanky man, came smiling to me.

“My son, congratulations. You were accepted to Government College, Ughelli,” he said, and walked me to the Headmaster’s office to get my letter. I was in total shock but too respectful of these men to scream for joy. Instead I bottled my joy inside me. I took the letter from the Headmaster, held it tightly and raced from his office down Boyo Road to Sapele market. Shoving the shoppers aside, I arrived at Aunt’s shed and showed her the letter while announcing the news to her.  She took the letter as usual, then pulled me close, smiled, as she hugged me.

Slowly calling my full name, “Oritsegbemi, (which means, “Almighty God is my saviour”) my son, May God continue to save you until the evening of your life” she said. She continued, “Sit down, my son. No. Take this shilling, go buy jollof rice and at least two pieces of meat, add some dodo too. Bring all here and sit down and eat, my son.”