Book 1: G.O.O.D (Aminat)

Aminat

Height is a great intoxicant!

I do not consider my interaction with this girl the happiest memory of my young life but I cannot help smiling when I remember my most memorable interaction with her. In reality, I do not actually remember any other personal interaction with her apart from the one I’m about to share with you. Most of my other memories of her are those of me and her in a group, we didn’t talk much and interestingly enough, this particular interaction, had it gone well would have been nothing more than a group interaction. But I am happy to say that it didn’t go well, if it had, I wouldn’t have this story to tell – In other words, some bad incidents may give you the best memories you have of a person.

At the time of the said ‘personal interaction’ there was nothing to smile about, yet I learnt the most important lesson about heights from her, one that I will never forget even if I live to be 300 years. – Although this is unlikely, I sincerely long to live that long. I will like to see what advances in science or technology will churn out for popular use after 200 years have passed. What would Facebook look like, would it be outdated or will it become a self developing biography of a person’s life? Then there is Google and droids... I stray from my story.

The lesson I learnt is this: Never - and I do mean NEVER - allow your fellow pupil or peer carry you, unless of course the person weighs at least double your size and or has superhuman capabilities – superhuman here meaning being extraordinarily fit or developing extraordinary abilities due to the influence of alien material or DNA in such a person’s body, of course giants and other extremely strong individuals are included in this category.

Actually, I would like to modify my lesson: Make sure the person is both double your size and superhuman. Trust me, you want to make allowances. There is no point taking your chances with a person who is double your size but is not fit – you’ll definitely be dropped – or a person who has superhuman abilities that do not include strength. For example increased brainpower or eyes that shoot ‘fire and ice’ – in such a case, if you outweigh the person, chances are that you will be dropped shortly or reduced to ashes to make your size more manageable. Neither option is likely to guarantee your survival.

Now, some of you may protest that it could happen in a fight.

 Well, yes.

Of course it might; and Heaven help you, if the person is unable to hold on to you after carrying you.

That wouldn’t be the point of carrying you up, in the first place anyway!

The intention is always to lift you high up, and then...

Oops!

Drop you.

I don’t get it; why are people so mean?

Why can’t we all be nice and friendly and cuddly –

Shio! [1  -

A Yoruba sound made to denote that a person finds something reprehensible. It is also means nonsense. For example, finding your drunk uncle sleeping in front of your door, you might shake your head at his behavior and whilst feeling bad for him, say ‘Shio! I feel sorry for you.’

]

Sorry. Forget the cuddly part of that statement.

Now that I think of it, it is possible that this girl intended to drop me in the first place! Hmm weird!

But Why would she, I’ve never harmed her in any way and we are both friends with...

MERCY!!!

I remember, she was competing for Mercy’s, attention at one point just like all of us – sorry I meant ‘them’ not us, I was already settled.

Whilst my supposition is not conclusive evidence of her guilt, I should probably take it under advisement for all future interactions. My conclusion being this: In addition to avoiding being carried, pay particular attention to being carried by former adversaries or people who might be jealous of you.

Like I’ve mentioned repeatedly, I was really a smart kid so of course, I knew you shouldn’t let fellow pupil or peer carry you but sometimes the winds of chance carry you, where you really don’t want to go.

Of course I place a high value on the wisdom I gained from this incident - like every smart person would, and the wisdom is this, when people who do not satisfy the above conditions I have set for being carried attempt to carry you...

Run.

Run from tall and skinny people, who want to carry you.

Now I’ll tell you why....

It was a beautiful afternoon, leaves were gently falling off the trees, and the sun was showing its kind and sunny face. We were in the music room listening to a piano rendition of the Hallelujah chorus - for all I cared!

Being a posh school and all, we had cold drinks to put us in a cool mood; the only drawback being that, they had been in our water bottles since daybreak and had since lost any traces of coolness. We were excited, which was not surprising. It is said that music inspires all and we were definitely no exception to that rule.

And then we started a game - the music teacher, had by then lost control of the class, although through no fault of hers; we were a handful, anybody would have been overwhelmed.

The rules were simple; Do!

Do get carried by the tallest girl in class. (Aminat)

I just don’t remember why we were so excited.

How could a girl that skinny support my weight?

I wasn’t chubby or anything...

 Don’t be snide, I wasn’t always… generously proportioned – that happened much later.

But I was a very healthy child and for some reason, it seemed exciting to the girls if anyone said ‘No’.

I didn’t know this!

How was I, supposed to know that my wishes and my fundamental right to privacy and dignity had the power to turn my everyday mischief-meaning colleagues to criminals.

Before I knew it I was up in the air and Aminat had thrown me over her shoulders. I immediately started begging to be put down because it didn’t feel right.

I must have scared her with my screaming and crying...

Um, excuse me.

I meant my outrage and indignation.

She tried to drop me and that was when EVERYTHING went wrong.

It was horrible.

A scene I’d only ever seen on TV but did not expect that it would ever, ever happen to me.

I fell.

Not in a dignified way.

Apart from hurting myself, my tush was revealed to all the aspiring young men in the room, it’s probably one of my most embarrassing moments and I CRIED.

Yes! You heard me correctly I cried.

More like bawled, I mean, I was justified!

There was blood running down my nose and some from my mouth and it was horrible!

This is how it happened….

She tried to drop me but she must have lost her grip on me or even more appalling; deliberately lost all sense of direction. She was supposed to drop me on my feet, by lowering me gently.

Instead she dropped me on my head and the rest of me came tumbling after.

You know? Just like the poem, ‘Jack and Jill’.

The first few seconds were a blur caused by shock, then the pain settled in. Within moments a section of my forehead had enlarged and I had this really huge bump protruding out of my head.

I automatically earned day in the sick-bay with iced lolly placed on the swell and a 1(One) naira coin which was used to massage my head. I imagine in retrospect that the school teachers probably prayed and hoped that I hadn’t cracked my skull because I had a teacher sit with me and comfort me for most of the day.

As for my class teacher, he was so angry about what happened, I was his favourite student and very well behaved and so he felt outraged that this evil thing had been done to me. Aminat spent a good amount of that day being punished for her offence, I heard tales from other student that she had spent most of the day crying.

The drama did not end there.

At closing time I left the clinic to go home.

My father’s driver did not turn up, he probably had a flat tyre or something or maybe my father decided we were old enough to get home ourselves. I can’t remember. It’s not an important detail.

It all meant the same thing to me; I’d get to use the one naira to buy sausages rolls which went for 10 kobo a piece. Oh and I must mention that it was mere flour mixed with flour but then it was in vogue to buy it in my school.

Heaven forbid that I be found wanting in following the fashion of the times. So there I was with 10 flour sausages a humongous bump on my head and people staring at me like I had two heads or something.

I can’t really blame them though, seeing as how there was a bump on my head the size of your average lizard head maybe even bigger. And I was a star – no scratch that – I was a superstar the envy of all my mates because everyone was starring at ME and wanted to hear the full story from ME.

ME, who never spoke and was barely noticed, by anyone.

Awoooooooooooh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Did I just howl?

No I didn’t. I don’t do stuff like that. I’ve got principles and stuff about things like that.

When I got home, My aunts and uncles gawked and exclaimed in disbelief at the lizard head growing out of my head.

That was nothing compared to the reaction of my mum when she saw the evil growth. She had left me in perfect condition that morning minus an evil growth on my head. Her little angel now had a lizard head standing against her head.

I think I must have cried for her seeing as how someone had to enforce my right to dignity and privacy. It’s a blur after that, probably something to do with the pain.

The next thing I remember is school the next morning and the drama that was acted out with about 7 actors, my humble self included;

CAST

1.   My Mother            -                  The enraged mother

2.   Me                        -                  The violated child

3.                                                                                   Aminat        The child delinquent, weight-lifter extraordinaire, Violator of the fundamental human rights provisions of. THE 1979 CONSTITUTION.

 P.S; For once it actually applied; it was a matter between two bloody civilians. (Sorry about that slip) I meant one former bloody civilian and an about-to-be bloodied civilian.

4.   Mercy Ibekwe                 -        The efficient and meticulous head girl

5.   Mr. Mensah                    -                  The concerned class teacher

6.                                                                                   Mr. Art Teacher    Can’t remember his name, and he just wanted to see the play firsthand.

7.                                                                                   Female Teacher     The feminine touch. I can’t remember her name either but she was there and actually concerned too but not about me.

Sheesh!

Anyhow let’s not lose sight of what is important.

Drama was about to unfold.

First, we have my mother who stormed out of the car with fire in her eyes.

Her legs moved rapidly towards the school gate as though someone had attached a rocket to them.

Oh yeah!

I remember clearly now.

She was fuelled with pent up anger that had started the day before and had simmered over the night and you could almost see the steam whooshing out through her ears.

Being the proper lady I was - don’t doubt that - and seeing as how I had a lizard head partially blocking my sight. I took my time getting out of the car to watch the drama at the school gate. The three teachers I mentioned earlier in the cast were at the gate to block my mum and prevent her from gaining access to the school compound.

She huffed and puffed; and the fire inside her threatened to destroy all in her path. I did not actually hear what was going on as I stood at a safe distance just in case the volcano decided to erupt.

I smiled darkly, relishing the scene before my eyes. The experience was rather like watching a mime, the mouths were moving but I could not hear what was being said; that was probably because of my distance from the parties. Nevertheless, the actors were really good at their jobs and they made a lot of hand movements that conveyed the message across clearly.

Miss Aminat was called out and my mum was bent on having her way. This was quite clear as she eyed the weightlifter maliciously.

Then started the part I did not like at all.  Aminat and co. begged my mum and she actually listened to them. I think they threw a low punch when they called Mercy Ibekwe to appeal to my mother’s good nature.

Good nature my foot!

Someone should have punished that girl!

Someone should have enforced my right to privacy!

Anyway, my mother forgave and who could question her, seeing as how she was the one who decided to push me out of her womb, she was the one who endured the pains of childbirth.

Nobody thought of my pain or my shame!

I mean; I was the one with a lizard head growing out of my head.

Well, the matter was resolved and I was taken for an x-ray to ensure that it wasn’t a part of my skull poking out beneath my skin and – between you and me - probably to check if my brain was affected.

A pointless trip; in my humble estimation, I was still a smart kid but that might be a sign that something did go wrong. I guess I’ll never know because it doesn’t show. I did study law you know!

Yeah, Crazy, Right?

I was given a tube of DEEP HEAT - blah, blah, blah - which was probably made out of pure and unadulterated menthol to chase the lizard back in. It’s probably why I never felt any less smart because I now had a lizards brain mixed somewhere in there with the original one I had.

I don’t think the incident made me any closer to the weightlifter - as I termed her in my mind – we both stayed away from group gatherings that involved each other for a while but at some point we put it behind us, which is a good thing I guess. We wouldn’t want her to incidentally get a fresh idea for having fun sometime in the future.

In the meantime, the memory of the weightlifter and the lessons she taught me, would remain fresh as always.

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[1] A Yoruba sound made to denote that a person finds something reprehensible. It is also means nonsense. For example, finding your drunk uncle sleeping in front of your door, you might shake your head at his behavior and whilst feeling bad for him, say ‘Shio! I feel sorry for you.’