LOVE MUST BE CRAZY

EPISODE TWO
Children church was a place I loved to be. As the only begotten son of Pastor Adeku, whose birth was surrounded by circumstances relatable to that of Samuel in the Bible, I found time, as mandated, to read the Bible every day. By the time I was seven, I could narrate many of the stories the same way my father did every Sunday on the altar. They were so engraved in my head that all the Bible Quiz I participated in could not but testify to my knowledge of God’s word. This convinced Mum that I was going to go through the fire of immorality believed to be blazing in BFGMSS and still come out unhurt. If Joseph could resist Potiphar’s wife, then it can’t be like a camel trying to pass through the hole of the needle for me. Pastor Adeku maintained his stand. He still believed a school abroad, in Oxford preferably, would have been better. But, he buried his lips in silence. They dared not dance lest a scene is created to satisfy the urge of an audience for pleasure. He had to submit to the will of his woman who refused to give a logical reason for her decision.
BFGMSS was definitely the best school. It was the pride of the nation. Telling people your alma mata is BFGMSS commanded a sort of respect many found only in their imagination. Everybody wanted their children in its classroom. Even the poor dreamt of it. But, they will only dream until death swallows their dream. A poor man shouldn’t aspire what is in-between the palms of money bags. A well tarred road made it easy for cars to make it into the heart of the school. Flowers, neatly trimmed beautified both sides of the road and made the air pleasant. The well-trimmed flowers planted to make letter B, F, G, M, S, S just beside the security post spoke audibly of the creativity its students are known for. The Security wore an immaculate shirt smartly thrust in a well-ironed blue trouser over a soldier-like black booth sparkling with polish. On the badge on his left chest, KING’S GUARDED was boldly written. His dressing differed from the uniform wore by the Peace Corp that assured security at Baptist Grammar School, Akinlalu. I expected a serene environment. I was not disappointed. The breeze blew with gentleness which hid the true colour of young boys and girls sojourning in the land. Uncle Daniel drove me straight to the place which were to be my new domicile away from crisis. It was worth the pay. The senior students were moving about the building, some staring at I don’t know what on me while new comers stood beside their parents or parents’ driver looking left and right like a lost boy examining the new environment he found himself with a curious mind. I looked up to have a glance of the building painted blue. ‘WELCOME TO PEACE HOSTEL’’ was boldly written at the entrance. After my clearance, the porter called on J.B to lead me to Room 16. J.B engaged me throughout the small journey to my new room. He was surprised and counted himself lucky to have met the son of a renowned pastor. It means one day in the future, he could meet him personally for his hands to dust away all the generational curses that have been running after him like dogs. The room was different from that of BODIJA. We were four in a room, everybody had a locker at their individual corner, and one had to trek a little out of the room to use the toilet or have a bath. I neatly arranged my stuff, especially provisions in my locker and thereafter locked it with the padlock Aunty Ajoke had given me. The only boy I met in the room laid silently on his bed watching me in a furtive manner. He shouldn’t be one or two years older than me. But, I bet that he would beat me if we were to fight. I noticed that he paid more attention to my bag than my face which has always generated trust. Uncle Daniel left after getting all the details necessary for his report before Pastor. I wondered what the boy could still be staring at after everything had been packed into the locker. I checked what was left in my bag and found my watch. It was the watch Pastor Samson, an assistant pastor in our church gifted me during my eighth birthday. This guy hein… I thought for a while. I kept my things as secured as possible and laid down on my bed.
‘‘Young boy,’’ I heard the thick voice when my eyes started closing sounding like a thunder in the middle of the night. I jumped up troubled. ‘‘No cause for alarm, Butty,’’ he grinned. It was a senior boy. I later found out he called himself Hunter. He had come to hunt me. Denis, my roommate said he is the landlord of the hostel and so requests a remuneration for lording the house. He looked weird with a thick line standing on each of his cheeks. If we were to look at his face, he seemed to carry number 11 on his face.  He looked like a sinner and I felt I should pray for him, or preach to him so I will get rid of his terrorism. But, I shrugged away the feeling. I handed over the key to him. He made his choice but the choice was too expensive. He picked two tins of Milo and six tins of Peak Milk. He was about giving back the key to me when something in the locker flashed his eyes. He checked back. ‘‘Wow! You have my favourite, I love Fibre Active,’’ he said with joy. His harvest was bountiful where he didn’t sow. He left with half of the carton. Tears formed in my eyes. They flew down like a running stream but he didn’t care. He was happy for the quantity of his plunders. He promised to come back and visit me after saying he was going to be my school father whether I liked it or yes. Anxiety descended on me. I was scared of my new environment. I wanted to report to the porter but Denis told me so many things. The things made my tongue powerless to speak. I discovered so many things I can’t afford to survive under. He said whenever anybody, especially a senior student, ask anything from me, I should give with a smiling face even if the heart is weeping. I was thinking of informing Mum when the Priest came in. He came for the newcomer offering…