PREPARE ME WITH THE TENDEREST CARE
“Julie, wake up. It’s almost 7 p.m., time to go for evening prep to read.”
“I think I am ready for the exams, big sister,” Julie replied with a bit of cockiness to her voice.
“You can’t be so sure, my dear!” Ada retorted. “With the way all these guys cooperate in class these days, you have to be ahead of the game to get good grades o.”
In her usual self, but with deep conviction within, Julie replied, “Yes, for good grades, hmmm, we all will get it whether they cooperate or not. But I can’t break my head because I don’t want to come first in class.” She continued with gusto.
“After you don carry first for your class finish with your good grade, you go come see people wey carry 10th for B and A class with grades wey better pass your own. So, there is no need. I better equip myself to my heart’s contentment so that my father’s school fees will not be waste. Apart from that, I am on a journey of my own.”
“Okay, if you say those guys are cooperating, that’s why they are doing well, what of Banke?”
“Oh baby, free that girl joor. That girl is so fixated on books that she doesn’t even smile at anybody. I better be olodo than be like that.”
“Ah ah! Don’t sound silly, Julie. There are so many girls like us in this school who make me want to upgrade my academics seriously.”
“Ada, I understand. But you remember Chichi?”
Ada nodded with some certainty, lost between askance and curiosity.
“You remember her real gist?”
Ada’s stomach tightened up with trepidation.
How can anyone forget Chichi, one of the most brilliant and outgoing girls she ever met? Gap-toothed beauty from the softer side of Warri and well-travelled too, with an English accent dangling between Italian and Serb. Rumour had it that she travelled to Iceland, spent two months, and came back with such deep English.
Anyway, it was an emergency Continuous Assessment, and Chichi, ordinarily not wanting to fail, panicked—and the rest was history.
“Julie, why would you refer me to that incident?”
“Yes oo, I have to refer you. I cannot come and put pressure on myself and, in the end, fool myself. Chichi, on seeing the test question, screamed out in class to the astonishment of all and passed out.”
“Baby girl, I would rather go easy on myself and let my God do the rest.”
“Well, you are right. We keep playing our parts until we hit the mark.”
That’s just a part of one girl’s story. Our school was so blessed with bright minds that if not for some names and features that portrayed who was male or female, you wouldn’t differentiate one from another by their academic performances. Most boys got used to the fact of gender equality without being taught any lessons.
Any boy who had doubts about the ability of the female species quickly got their doubts cleared. There were girls who you would see playing and gisting most times and only reading during the official prep hours—not those serious girls you can picture who are straitjacketed, so you can tell they are good students; I mean girls who you may erroneously tag as regular, but they excel extraordinarily in their book work.
In one term, it took the combined efforts of Nuhu, Zugu, Chowa, and Efe to displace Banke from coming first in class, and when they did, some of them paid the price. They never became seatmates again, and the competition for the best student in the class opened again, and Banke was still the one to beat at the time—until later years when some other guys grew up and made dramatic turnarounds akin to miracles in their bids to excel in class.
While these girls were excelling in class, there were some who, if not for the system we found ourselves in this black nation, would have been scholarship material. Girls who were generally intelligent and excellent athletes in their own right. Girls who could outrun their average male counterparts in pace and wits—and in all these, beauties were not lacking.
Just yesterday, as we overheard the guys speak (I will give you their gist soon), I remembered some of the most beautiful girls whose feet gracefully trod the grounds of this great school.
These girls were not defined by their beauty, yet these beauties cannot be characterised by merely giving a passing phrase to them. There was Mikaela, a perfect blend of beauty and brains. When she moved, guys fantasised to the heavens and back.
Many guys dated her in their minds without her knowledge. In fact, she was their girlfriend, and it mattered not if she was aware or not. I hear some are still dating her like that to date, even though she is now married with kids. But as my mind was about to pour out some more ink on this paper, I remembered that my meat is on fire, and if my husband comes and this food is burnt, he will softly call me Burna Girl—and who knows, I might miss my welcome kiss.
Missed episode 2? Read it here
