High School Memoir 1

Yesterday, I ran into an old classmate.

The year I got admission into secondary school, there was nothing like online data. These days, all you have to do is walk to a nearby cyber café, key in your reg number, print out your result and the school you're posted, and walk in the same manner to the school and register. Back then, you first go to your primary school and collect testimonial and sometimes transcript, then you go to the school you chose while filling the common entrance form and stare at the names pasted on the wall.

The first day, I went with my Mama. The school was crowded; old students, new students, guests, parents, plus the sea of pasted names. I didn't see mine that day. Fortunately, my Mama had a Saturday program that same week in the same school, so we went home. She found my name easily with no crowd and noise to compete with. Monday, she went back without me, got the list of books , fees and other requirements and the journey began.

I was shoved down three classes in two weeks. I ended up in the fourth one. The counselor had announced that we should come early the following day and listen to our names and classes being called. This calling of names went on for more than one week. We later found out that staff kids, kids of their friends, friends of friends - the list is endless, occupied the A B C and D classes. What they did was move the people who registered early down and fix the privileged kids in the upper classes. At least they believed those four classes were the upper ones. If luck was on your side, you stay in your first class. If not, you end up like me. I landed in F class.

Before that, I was in Jss1C, and here is how I met this my classmate.

Let's call her Tina.

I'm sitting in class. We use lockers and chairs. Mine is my mum's twin's. My chair is an iron one. Very cool and comfortable but very small too. I'm a small person in a small chair. You hardly notice me. No teacher is in sight. I'm busy writing when I feel someone touch my right shoulder. I turn and stare into the face of a stranger. She's tall, slim and dark. She looks older and her unsmiling face is drawn into a tight line, you know, like the lips when you're angry.

"This place is my position," she says and points at my desk.

I blink.

"Carry your locker and go to the front, I'm bringing mine."

She walks away. She girl sitting besides me turns and tells me to do nothing. She looks older too. She's not tall but she has breasts and rounded buttocks. Her eyes also has this glint of someone who has seen things. So I sit tight. She looks ready to fight for me. Few minutes later, Tina returns.

"You haven't moved your locker? Didn't you hear me?"

I open and close my mouth.

"She's not going anywhere," my warrior says. "We've never seen you before. Didn't you just register? Go and keep your locker somewhere else."

Tina, seeing she's met her match, turn towards me and orders me to do it or...

She's gone. I begin to vent. Who does she think she is? Come and drag me out let me see. A whole me. She thinks she can come and command me anyhow. My vent is so intense I fail to see why she singled me out. Poor me - small, skinny and fair like crayfish. I'm moved the next day anyway and so is everyone. Finally, Tina ends up in E and my warrior in D. Life continues. I forget about the incident. Tina and I actually get along. We walk home together sometimes since we take the same route.

So we met again yesterday. Amidst the laughter and shared stories and gestures, I was wondering if she still remember how she bullied a naive twelve year old many years ago, and more importantly if she still does same.

My warrior also thought me something that day - never to let anyone shout me down. Never to let anyone quench my fire.