Book 1: G.O.O.D (Iyanu Majiuni)

IYANU MEJIUNI

A Rivalry of Mercy, Academics and Art

There are people in your life that for some reason, you find yourself inexorably tied to by, increasingly perplexing and sometimes a definite – this has got to be some fate and destiny stuff - situation. The existence of such people in your life reinforces the fact that something or someone (depending on what you believe) must have deliberately put us on this fascinating and titillating world.

Say for example, you meet someone new at a social or religious gathering and you briefly discuss and exchange numbers or business cards, but somehow you know that you will never call this fascinating person you have just met. 

 

Then a few weeks later, you run into that same person at the airport whilst headed to different destinations, you both smile at each other in remembrance and it takes a while for the two of you to recall each other’s names – you both scan wildly and hurriedly through the list of random names stored in your brains and compare the names to different experiences and scenarios in order to come up with the right name.

You exchange smiles again as well as brief pleasantries that seem over used and tired whilst keeping an eye on your flight. Finally you go your separate ways and think – Ah! That’s done now. Then you proceed to erase the person from your mind and just when the person has settled in on the fringes of your memory and is gradually on a one way trip out of your memory...

Suddenly...

Out of nowhere.

This same person suddenly pops up at a family member’s wedding and so on and so forth –that is the person keeps popping up at random moments in your life without any orchestration on either party’s side- With this continual ‘bumping’ a time comes when not knowing one another seems absolutely impossible and the person as opposed to residing on the fringes, has now taken permanent lodgement in your memory.

Well, Iyanu Mejiuni, happened to be one such person in my life, it seemed as though God himself deliberately intended for us to meet. Twenty years since I last saw her, I can perfectly remember her name, her face, her expressions. She has taken up permanent lodgement; in fact, I’d say she bought quite a bit of space in my brain.

Rivalry was a concept or phenomenon that was generally unknown to me. I am not competitive by nature and I do not go seeking other people’s attention, so it made no sense that just staring at the girl I would want to compete with her – but I did and I did not just want to compete, I wanted to win and still be liked by her. A herculean task for a 9 year old yet, I set out to accomplish it.

I will now proceed to break down my rivalry with her into parts so that it might paint a clear picture to you and perhaps help me figure out the exact nature of what our friendship was, as opposed to the mindless jumble of emotions and actions that it appeared to be to my cognitive mind.

Now I must state something before I start.

There is a chance, albeit a small one, that I might have picked up one or two sympathizers in my story telling so far. People, who might for their own reasons, find my younger self to be an admirable or pitiful character portrayed through the medium of these recollections. I owe a duty to these people and to my dear dear, rival Iyanu not to cause any misdirection or misleading.

My statement is this: Iyanu, apart from our rivalry as regards Mercy was most likely unaware that I had cast her as the antagonist in my private rivalry drama and it has taken me a while to realize that what I felt about her was probably all in my mind.

Our Friendship:

When you find yourself in a new school, the accepted norm world over is to choose your associations carefully. My own standard was a healthy mix of the gifted, brainy, rich and popular kids. With Mercy, I had covered at three of my specifications, all that was left was ‘rich’; it might sound very materialistic of me but... it really wasn’t. My reasons were simple, I wanted a taste and feel of everything, I hated being out of the loop and having this mix of people kept me in the loop.

Iyanu, was incredible, with her I got another three over four, she was brainy, rich and reasonably popular and we had similar interests –meaning Mercy. What I failed to anticipate however was how these qualities would come to form the basis of several internal competitions.

is always a friend who you visit not necessarily just because you like thwm but because you want to know what they are up to. This girl was one such person. I wanted to know everything about her. Of all the girls in my class, she rankled me the most and save for Mercy, she was my closest friend. The others in the class, just drifted somewhere behind her and woulod you know; she was also a bully (Now I have recently learnt from Korean Drama that there are different kind of bullies, some are emotional bullies, others physical bullies, others grab your lunch and money, some point out the truth, Kim Joo Won was guilty of this particular brand of bullying in the Korean Drama Secret Garden)

So we have the emotional bully,

The physical bully

The material bully

The truth bully

She was a truth bully. She told you the truth in such a way that you felt hurt. Considering her age at the time though, I doubt she had perfected this art. As for me, now some of you might obsereve or conclude that I must really have been chicken or easily hurt since all my best friends so far are turning out to be bullies and my fellow classmates, future terrorist, just like my father may I’ve observed correctly.

I would like to however point out that you have never been any more wrong. I have a problem, I do not much like my personal space being invaded and though I did not mention it to any of my friends, I considered anyone who invaded my personal space a bully or a terrorist – like the weight keeper who explained gravity to me in ashtonishing detail. My personal space includes my body, my thoughts, my life and my things.

I remember a particular harrowing experience that firmly rooted in my mind the need to protect this much treasured personal space. My class had gathered in the music room and we were on a queue to get our costumes for the school party when one of my fellow pupils, - a boy – I might add. Thought it wise to breathe on me and so close to my nose even though his nostrils were full of greenish yellow booger. I decided on that particular occasion that kissing was overated and those who did it were crazy particularly when I remembered Walsh’’s blunder. And since then I make a point to keep my nose very far from the noses of other people, booger present or not, this restriction I have also placed on mouths and breaths unless the person is a cute baby, I discovered that most grown people have boogers hanging around somewhere in their throat which you can smell when you move close to them.

So when it came to Seyi, pointing out the truth to me was just bullying as far as I was concerned and I hated that with a passion. Pointing out the truth to me invaded my personal space by dislodging any notions I had previously held in my mind or placing notions that were not there before there.

Yet I liked her, she was pretty (Yes, another pretty friend, I can’t seem to escape this dilemma. I seem to attract them) and I really wanted to be close to her, partly because I liked her and partly because I kind of resented her as she was the only one who could dislodge my position  with Mercy. So I thought of a strategy... I would visit her and get close to her and learn as much about her as I possibly could.

She gave me a reason to visit her.

I remember small details about her. Like the fact that she and her sisters (they were four girls), shared the same initials: Sayo, Seyi, Seun, Seye.

We were classmates at Macdonald Primary School and she was the first friend I had that didn’t bully me, neither did I hero-worship her.

Her dad was a pilot and they lived close to us so me and my sister - who was friends with Sayo - would go visiting and we looked forward to seeing the next aircraft models her father brought home. They rarely visited at our house; somehow it just made more sense to visit them.

She taught me how to suck nectar from flowers and my first experience with real fireworks (Not bangers), was at her house. She had this cool aunt that brought them all sort of toys and even though it was not dark she would set them off while we squealed and ran all over the house.

Yet; we were rivals.

Earlier in my recounting, I told you that I was being tutored in art by Ebere Kambia; so was Seyi. Everyday, we would argue over whose drawing was better and then resolve it by showing both drawings to Ebere. Of course, Ebere always declared that my drawing was better, so she would strive to best me by taking more drawing lessons from Ebere or bonding with her.

One summer holiday, I didn’t take summer lessons from our school, I took it at Ashdale. I got back to school only to discover that Seyi had spent the entire holiday as Ebere’s best friend.

Men, I was jealous!

As if that wasn’t bad enough she had a booklet of drawings she had accumulated over the hols from her art lessons. I really felt bad but I was soothed when Ebere pulled me even closer to her and kind of ignored Seyi a little. I know it was mean of me but I was just glad I was not forgotten.

Seyi was made health prefect and I was made assistant health prefect.

The standard of measurement?

She stayed neat throughout school; it wasn’t like I didn’t stay neat, she was just neater. I was made her assistant because I used to have the whitest eyes in school.

It’s not an exagerration; I can recall being used as an example of how clean one’s eyes should be - throughout primary school! As if that wasn’t embarrasing enough, one of our teachers made it extremely clear to me in front of my friends that I was sugessted as assistant health prefect because I was healthy and especially because my eyes were too.

You Know - Just in case I didn’t know.

Hmm, I guess it could have been worse.

I have to say, that she was the one friend I held onto even after primary school was over although I have lost touch with her now.

One summer, I got back from boarding house to hear that she had lost her dad and they had moved away to Kwara. I missed her terribly that holiday and every time I passed in front of her house I would pause just a little hoping they had moved back. But they never did. Its Harmattan 2010 and they still haven’t moved back.

I guess we do meet to part.