LOVE MUST BE CRAZY 3 BY Winlade Isreal

EPISODE THREE

It took me time before I became a full member of my new environment. There was always a senior in my room to get something. It was as if they knew the exact time I receive package from home. They would come one after the other to ask for their portion of the cake in tin. I was like Nigeria, where individuals go to the House to have their share of the national cake. I still wonder how overflowing the tears of Nigeria would be if I could feel pain in my heart like a spear finding its way through my skin over this small piece of provision my weekly marauders cart away.

It was break time. The short boy in SSS two had matched outside with his two hands clutching the bell and swinging it to and fro energetically. ‘Breaaaaak time!’ he announced to end all his abracadabra. I moved down to my Spot. The breeze blew calmly under the tree with a usual calmness which attracted me the very first day to the place. I had to name it my Spot. It was the only place which communicated a new feeling, a sense of belonging to BFGMSS, which made me accept the daily challenge while looking up to my era as one of the seniors of BFGMSS. My spot was going to be my palace, and the concrete seat my royal seat. The girth of the tree was enough to shade my palace. I imagined giving orders to JSS one boys to call a girl in SSS two B. The girl was beautifully endowed, she swung her hips to the rhythm of the wind and my heart danced the same way David did before the ark of God in Israel. I imagined what her name would sound like. Deborah. Yes! Mum would like a Christian. I remembered Cinder. The lady in my imagination looked exactly like her. I got angry with myself. It seemed I was denying a love I was feeling. I wished her voice could be heard around calling my name in her unique way; ‘CovnANT’. The breeze was really calm. A leaf dropped beside me. I picked it and rubbed my palms on it. I remembered I was Adeku Covenant and got disappointed. I imagined how disappointed Dad would be if he heard I had stopped observing my quiet time. I so much wished I was consistent but the breeze of the end time blowing right under the tree was immense. It was strange and happening for the first time in my life. At home, I always observed it. I didn’t want to imagine the excuses I would give Mrs Odidiomo when she calls to check how far my life is moving spiritually. I closed my eyes instantly, and muttered few words with utmost seriousness. God needed to understand me. It was the influence of the new environment. My lips danced while my firmly closed eyes fastened my concentration. After few minutes, I opened my eyes to see the Priest before me. His face wore a mischievous smile. I felt like stabbing him. But, there was no knife. If there were, I am sure I wouldn’t have tried stabbing him because God will be angry at me for killing the creator he created even though the creator is making life unbearable for me.

‘‘O boi!,’’ he said with a bossy look. I remembered our first contact. He had introduced himself as the Priest. Making reference to the house of Levi. I didn’t understand the relationship between him and the Levites, but I knew he was the collector of first offering of every freshmen of BFGMSS.

‘‘Good morning sir’’ I didn’t know how the statement dropped out of my mouth. He looked at me mockingly, and moved his left hand toward the right and touched the watch on his wrist. I checked the watch on my wrist too, it was 15 minutes past 1. I got up and ran to class. He followed me with a swift race. As I ran, I knew he was soon going to catch up with me but I continued. I wanted to try till no way was available to escape his wrath. He is my senior but shouldn’t treat me as if I am in prison or the street. I was ready to do whatever he demanded except this. I have never told anyone. Maybe my Mum would listen. Nobody was going to understand because, I think, is made for just me to know. The compound was already emptied of noise, the field was vacant while only the movement of branches of trees orderly dotting the compound could entertain bystanders and the security roaming the compound. I was exhausted. My classroom was a step closer just the same way he was a step closer to grab my knickers at the waist and drag me like a criminal to his class to face panel. 

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…
   

LOVE MUST BE CRAZY by Winlade Isreal

EPISODE ONE

EPISODE ONE
Anytime I remember my days in children church, I ponder on how I crossed from the lane of decency to that of promiscuity. Buchi Federal Government Mixed Secondary School was greatly revered for its destiny-changing craft. When I was admitted as the only boy, though the youngest out of over hundred other candidates in my church’s zonal association to proceed to drink from the golden cup springing intellectual wisdom from its buildings, my father became troubled instead of exuding an endless joy for the pride I just brought to the family.
Being the General Overseer of Plead My Case, Oh Lord Praying Ministry (PMCOLPM), Pastor Adeku preferred a school where his only begotten son could be free from worldly influence. BFGMSS, really was the school that topped the list of schools he never wished to dream for his son who has been destined to take up the torch of faith to light the world and erect an unbreakable wall on the foundation already laid for PMCOLPM to grow in all the corners of the earth. BFGMSS is not a bad school. It is, to say nothing but the truth, a leading learning institution which has bagged several national, continental and intercontinental awards of excellence. If not for the epidemic of immorality which painted the school a black sheep in 2005, it would have been the most sought secondary institution in the world. More than 30000 applications are submitted every blessed year out of which two thousand applicants are admitted. Barr. Isaac, my father’s friend refused to believe this statistics. But, after much thought and analysis, he was forced to agree it could be true. In Nigeria was one of the best schools in the world, a public school which belongs to the children who walks as friends of the masses with power tucked in their agbada. The academic excellence the school has been nurturing consistently wooed my mum but the eminence of immorality and worldliness in the school discouraged Dad. He wanted a decent boy in whom the fear of the Lord could find a temple to occupy.
The school was still redeeming its name with promises of a better academic society where students are not only brilliant but cultured when I made the shortlist of the few chosen ones out of the multitude who looked up to be chosen.
‘Your son deserves a lot of accolades,’ Mum said at the dining that night to announce the good news she had anticipated to dad.
‘What has he done this time?’ quizzed Dad looking curious. ‘Is it because of his hard work in the kitchen?’ he joked.
‘He is a hardworking Nigerian. I am proud to be the mother of a student of BFGMSS,’ she said with her shoulders raised high to fly her pride.
‘That’s good. But, the school is not the plan of God for his life.’
‘Is that God speaking or you?’
‘Whether me or God, my decision is final!’
‘That is not right. He is your son and I am his mother’’
‘I have spoken and my word is final’
‘We shall see who owns the farm between the hunter setting trap and the targeted game,’ Mum said defiantly.
The family dinner ended in dispute as it had been several times. I wished it ended the way it began. I was wrong for praying when the agents who would prove the potency of my prayer are stubborn hearted, always rigid, calling for war in the face of peace.
Everybody, including Aunty Ajoke knew why Dad developed a strong will in this matter. It was the fight at a birthday party in the school that claimed two lives. The party, as newsmen reported, metamorphosed to a fight when the floor was cleared for dance. Juokwu had brought Aminat just to serve him for the night. But, at the party, Suleiman, the son of the Honourable Minister of Justice used his influence as the Badoo of his goons to get Aminat from the seat beside Juokwu to his custody. He rocked her, danced with her with his mind focused on the end goal- the main exercise slated for the after party. Juokwu admitted it was a slap on his personality and determined not to just rub his cheeks and shift his gaze off the issue. He gathered his friends and challenged Suleiman. Suleiman had no time for argument. He believed in action. No wonder they called him Abacha. He was always ready to crush any insect that appeared on his mortar. This night people thought it would be a usual physical combat. But, it turned out to be a bloody one which served the grave with two lives. Dad counted this story several time to Mum. But, her ears were already deaf to everything he said. If there were something that could cure her deafness, it was going to be the approval of Pastor. He feels the freedom given to students to organise a birthday party was costly. She reminded him how they had thought me the way of the Lord since birth and quoted the Principal. ‘Appropriate measures have been put in place to make sure adequate security is guaranteed,’ he had said during his interview on NTA.
When Dad became too stubborn to listen to the words Mum repeated as if she was sounding a particular number of hallelujah in church, I got fed up of his character and wished not to ever be like him. Aside the respect, fame and financial beauty he possessed, there were a lot of things I didn’t pray to have in common with him. Many people knew him only as the General Overseer of PMCOLPM. Nothing more beyond that. Maybe they can also recite his profile; how he rose from the mire to the rock. But, I knew a lot about him. For that, I wanted a break from a warring home.