BASED ON A TRUE STORY

I really can’t remember anything about my childhood - from the day I was born till when I was five, but my mother always says I had it good, even better than my siblings. She worked with an airline company and most of the time if not all the time, she would have someone coming in on a flight into the country or leaving on another flight so I got gifts in cash and kind including an array of nice toys. Dad had just started working in a bank and he too got me a few nice toys.

We were living in a newly developed part of Lagos where there weren’t much good school around and that facilitated my parents decision to send me to my grandmother’s house to go to school around there. I grew up hearing everybody call my grandma Iya Mama and it has stuck ever since then. My mother was called Mama as a child and following the usual Yoruba school of thought, grandma automatically assumed the title Iya Mama. They would normally take me there on Monday mornings and come for me on Friday evenings. I was Iya Mamas first grandchild so it was only normal for her to spoil me with whatever I wanted; my aunts and uncles were also not spared from this gesture.

I had always been careless with my things at school until one weekend when I got back to our house without my water bottle. That day my mother beat me till she couldn't lift her hands anymore. That weekend she bought me another water bottle and on Monday morning on the way to my grandma's, she sounded a note of warning `Muyiwa! Make sure you come back home with this water bottle if not I would beat that spirit of carelessness out of your body and it would be the last time you would own one in this house; If you like dare me`. She said as she forced the zip of my bag open and put the water bottle in. I knew better not to call her bluff. Mother was a prolific child beater.....a professional at using the cane. She always said she learnt that from grandma.

Grandma was too nice to handle a cane, I still find it hard to believe.

From primary one to five, there were barely twelve of us in a class but that made us all got along well. I played the bass drum when I was in primary three and it was in that class that I had my first, first position grade. My father taught me how to tell the time that summer and in something that looked like a co-incidence, I was made the time keeper in primary four. Asides from being very punctual, I could also tell the time from a mile away - not every primary four pupil was able to do that. In primary five I was made the head prefect and that was a big feat to achieve back then. I wouldn’t say I was the best pupil in my class, but I sure did push my peers to their limit. At the National Common Entrance examination, over confidence got a better part of me and I performed below expectation even though I put out high scores, 486/600 to be precise. Suffice to say I was never a fan of the prestigious KINGS COLLEGE Lagos and so while other kids were looking for ways to gain admission into the revered school, I was busy taking entrance examinations into some private schools.

As much as I regard that period as one of the best phases of my life, I’m not sure if sending me to stay with my grandma was one of my parents best decisions. During my time there, I was exposed to a lot of things with pornography being on top of the list. My uncles would shut the doors to the sitting room and send every child around into their rooms whenever they wanted to indulge in watching pornography, and then one day my curiosity led me to find a bag load of pornographic discs and magazines. My aunts always had male friends over in the evenings and because my grandma was an alcoholic beverage seller, those evenings usually seemed like mini-parties. I would normally sit in a corner of the house and look on.

Sometimes grandma would allow me go over to my uncle’s house to spend a few days during the week since he stayed close to hers and could get me to school early enough – he had a big house and was pretty rich. This particular uncle always made it a point of duty to buy me the latest computer game whenever he took trips abroad and when everybody was bringing biscuits and sweets to school for lunch, I always had snacks (meat pie and sausage or burger) for lunch. I had two second cousins that stayed with him too – both of them sisters. When it was just us alone in the house, they would take turns on my cousin and I and molest us. I’m not sure how that has shaped up my life so far, but I think I would have been better off if I missed that part of growing up. It would take many years for me to realise the impact of these things on my life.

Results for all the entrance exams I took started coming out and I gained admission into all of them but my dad wouldn’t let me go to the one I wanted even though he asked me to choose. I wonder why he asked me to choose one when he knew he wouldn’t let me go there. I was very surprised when one day he came home and said he wanted me to go to boarding house in one of the federal schools, I declined instantly. There was no way I was going to go to a boarding school; I wouldn’t have been able to cope. With all the stories around? No way! After a lot of pondering, my parents finally decided to send me to a private school that was just about twenty minutes driving distance from our new house.

We had finally moved from the outskirts of Lagos to a central part on the mainland, Yaba. Whoop! Whoop! I was going to make new friends. So I thought, but my parents were having none of that. They held on to their – you won’t mix with the street kids anthem for so long, I don’t remember making any friends for the period we spent in that area.

Did I mention I got 4^th place out of about 200 other candidates that took the examinations? Well I just did. Anyway, school resumed a few weeks later and I was back to the four walls of a classroom. First one month was good, making new friends and getting used to the secondary school environment until I made the biggest mistake in junior school – contesting my grades with a teacher and inviting my father over. It was a big mistake that still haunts me. It was Basic Science and we just got back our test papers, I scored zero marks out of a possible thirty. What? I looked at other students scripts and we all seemed to give the same answers to the questions so how in God’s name couldn’t I score myself a few points.

When I told my dad about it, he only asked if I was sure about what I was saying; of course I was – so I thought. The next day he came by the school around break time when he knew I would be free and then we proceeded to the staffroom to see the teacher. After my dad reported his reason for coming around to the teacher - `He’s not serious, he failed. I don’t know why he had to stress you to come here sir` was all the teacher said. Oh my God.....I knew I wasn’t going to hear the last of it. How do I answer the same thing as someone else and then he scores marks and I don’t? My dad left the office embarrassed and drove back angry. Throughout that day all I could think of was the punishment that would be meted out to me once I got home.

The day went by very fast and mother came earlier than ever to pick me; and from the time when I clambered into the car and we started to head home, she didn’t stop insulting me and sending slaps my way. Dad must have told her about it. Dad was on leave and I was very certain he was going to be home that afternoon...ahh I could feel my soul leave my body. Once we were in he didn’t even let me drop my bag before charging at me, raining a series of slaps and punches on me. I cried out like a baby.

`Get that stool over there and raise it over your head and make sure you don’t drop it until I tell you to, Olodo oshi`. I knelt down in my school uniform sweating like a headless goat as I watched my parents and siblings munch on Suya and cold bottles of coca-cola beverage. My stomach won’t stop churning. After about three hours he finally asked me to get up – he must have seen life slip out of my body. I was very drained, tired and hungry that after having dinner I didn’t even have time to shower I jumped into my bed and slept off. From that day onwards, I never called my dad to come to school again. J.S.S 2 wasn’t all rosy, I managed to maintain good grades but somehow I wasn’t in the good books of the teachers and during open day I had myself to blame as they didn’t have any positive remarks about me even though I scored good grades in their subjects. That resulted to another round of slaps and insults from my mother.

By the summer of J.S.S 3 we had moved houses again, this time to Ikeja. It was a beautiful three bedroom storey building located in a very serene environment. I was on the six month long holiday and was home most of the time, kicking my football alone against the wall. On one of my lonely days, I kicked my ball to hard and it went straight into the neighbour’s compound. When I went to get it I saw this dark skinned girl with big breasts and a nice body sitting on the front porch of the house. I was too shy to say anything so I just picked my ball and ran back to my house. I liked her from the first day I saw her but I had some reservations, they were always chattering Yoruba in the compound – I could hear them audibly from my house. I needed to be sure she could communicate in English and I didn’t need to wait longer than the next day. I was back to kicking my ball all by myself when I heard a knock on the door.

It was a strange knock because we had barely spent two weeks in the house and even most of our relatives were yet to come through so who could it be? My answer was just behind the gate.

`Who is it? ` I quizzed. `It’s Fola`. Fola? I didn’t know anybody by that name and was very sceptical about opening the gate since I had been warned by my parents not to let strangers in. I peeped through a hole on the side of the gate and saw this harmless young boy standing there and panting. I wonder what he wants – I thought to myself as I opened the door. As soon as he came in, he went straight for my ball and started joggling it; I smiled, finally a friend.

`Where do you stay? ` I querried.

`The next building, we share the same fence` - he said pointing at the building where I saw the `Yoruba speaking girl` the day before.

`Oh! I’m guessing the dark skinned girl that’s always speaking Yoruba is your sister? I asked sardonically.

`Speak what? He smirked. You must be mistaking my sister Omolara for someone else, maybe the house help. She speaks only fluent English and she was the one who actually sent me over.....she said to tell you that she likes you and would really love to French kiss you`.

What? She wants to kiss me? I could care less about her mother tongue or whatever language she speaks, I’m definitely going to be getting my first kiss soon. But wait a minute, what does a French kiss feel like? I’ve never actually kissed someone or been kissed by anybody. I flushed.

I’m sure he could see my face brighten up after hearing what he had said but damn it; I was finally going to get kissed. I had a girlfriend at the beginning of that school year, she was light skinned and very beautiful but the relationship was very boring. Asides being my class mate we only used to talk via love notes between classes. We were both very shy, I guess because it was our first time at it. We didn’t even hug each other at anytime during the one year long relationship but look at me now, a total stranger wants to kiss me. I flushed again and then slipped into a reverie for a few minutes.

I gave him the landline number of my house to give to her so she could call me and tell me in person. He smirked and then ran off back to his house. I locked the gate behind him, went straight into the house and sat by the phone patiently waiting for the call to come in. It finally came in and when I heard the voice behind the phone my heart sort of melted. What? She got me falling in love with her at hello.

`Can you come over to my house so I can show you how serious I am? `.

 Now she wants me to come over? Ha! She must really mean business.

`Err.......who is home with you? ` My voice trembled as I asked in angst.

`Just Fola and I. If you do want to come its better you do now because my mum would be back from work in a few hours`.

`Oh ok. I would be there in a few minutes`. Then the phone line went dead.

I pirouetted around the living room and sang along as I did that. I was about to get my status upgraded to another kind of cool. I jumped into the shower and then threw on clean clothes as soon as I dried myself. Muyiwa I hope this isn’t a farce.......I repeated this mantra severally before picking myself up and heading over to her house. I was at her doorpost for a little over five minutes contemplating whether or not to go on with it when the door went open. God knows all I wanted at that point was to be swallowed by the ground. What! She didn’t only look better in person; she had the most beautiful smile ever.

`How are you? ` She asked, still smiling. `I saw you walk into the compound and when I didn’t hear any knock I decided to come out and check for you. `

Shoot! She must have seen me through the window and now she probably knows I’m shy too.

`Fine.....err.....was trying to tie the lace of my shoes`. Double shoot, I wasn’t wearing any shoes, instead I had slippers on. I was turning out to be a flop.

`Do you want to come inside or continue tying your imaginary shoe laces? `. We both laughed at my folly as she led me into the house. The house was very cold, I’m sure the air conditioner had been on all day.

`Where is Fola? ` I asked curiously as we got into the empty living room.

`He is in the other flat the one at the back. He went to play with his friend`.

So it’s just us alone in the house? I’m sure I had nervous and anxious written all over my forehead.

`Do you want anything? `. `No I’m okay, already had something before leaving the house`.

`Okay then`.

She jumped on the other side of the couch where I sat and then we got talking. Apparently she was also on the long holiday and attended an all girl’s school in Ogun State and at the point when I was starting to get boring in the conversation; she came across me and planted a kiss on my lips. I squirmed.

`Have you ever kissed a girl? `. She seemed curious to know. I wanted to lie and say yes but that would mean selling myself out because I had no idea at all about it.

`No I haven’t`.

She then climbed over me and started kissing me; I reciprocated by trying to go with the rhythm. I bit her lips at different intervals which luckily for me she didn’t complain about. We got really into it and for the first time I got a hard on with a girl. I am now a man. When we were getting really into it she got up and dragged me into one of the rooms in the house and with the way the room was arranged I could tell that it was her parent’s room.

Am I going to have her in her parent’s room, on their bed? Now that’s hardcore.

We kept on kissing, her breasts were out on my bare chest and she had my hands on her behind. Father Lord please take me now. What!

Then there was a knock on the door which put an abrupt end to our mini love session. We hurried out of the room into the sitting room as I adjusted my shorts, put on my shirt and sat in the couch as if nothing had happened while she tucked her breasts in, adjusted her dress and went to answer the door. It was Fola and his friend Jite and after that day we kept seeing each other at least three times every week kissing and smooching each other without ever attempting sex again until she decided to call it quits on Valentine’s Day the following year. I wasn’t shocked because word on the street was that she had numerous boyfriends and I was just her summer beau, I only felt bad that it happened on the day it did. I moved on from it almost immediately.

I got back to school a different person, I was now very confident about myself around the female folk. My grades were okay but the only constant thing was the slaps I kept receiving from my mother on open days. Asides school work; I had other things occupying my head. I was thinking about sex most of the time, I wanted to know what sex felt like, I badly wanted to have sex but I didn’t know where or how to get it. A few of my classmates had started to bring pornographic magazines and compact discs to school which they used to exchange between themselves and it wasn’t long before I joined the band wagon.