Chapter 8: Regret and Reflection

Lunchtime reach.

After I enjoy my morning, I dey hum song go canteen.

Na "Sweet Mother" by Prince Nico dey my head. I no too hungry, but canteen no dey cook my favourite fried plantain and fish often—I no wan miss am.

Class 3 dey my way from office go canteen.

Class never finish.

As I pass, I look inside—see faces wey don pale like ghost.

Some dey use hand support head, others dey stare blackboard like say e be shrine.

As I look well, I see Mr. Femi for front, dey shout spit everywhere.

His cane dey for one hand, register for the other. I just shake head.

Then, I lock eyes with that same boy from morning.

He shock first, then his dead eye suddenly sharp.

I just face my front, waka go canteen.

But he run come outside, finally release all the tension, tell me:

"You see am? Who really sabi pick talent and push students, parents and students sabi for their mind."

He laugh fake laugh, "Sorry, Teacher Musa, I no expect say parents go trust me reach like this."

For my mind, I dey see the regret for him eye, but pride no go let am beg.

I no talk. I just pity the students for that class.

I remember my own secondary school days, when our teacher go flog so till leg swell, but e no improve anybody grade. I just waka pass, my mind dey heavy.