Chapter 8: New School, New Blood

Mama Garba open door. When she see me, she happy:

She hug me, her wrapper smell of onions and zobo. She dey grin, show missing tooth. "Zeezee, come inside jare! Na your house be this."

"Mm, Mama say make I bring cake."

I hold the cake up, smile small. For Naija, when you bring food come house, na sign of respect. Mama Garba eyes dey shine.

As I talk finish, laughter burst from Sani Garba room. Na Hauwa voice.

Her laughter sharp, like glass break. I feel my neck hot. Mama Garba eye shift, her smile just hang for air.

True true, door open, Hauwa, short skirt, waka out from Sani Garba room.

She waka with confidence, her heels tap ground, make everybody hear say she don claim territory. Her perfume dey choke for parlour.

Mama Garba look awkward: "Zeezee, na person wey Sani bring come…"

She dey struggle for words, eyes dey dodge mine. I just nod, act like say e no pain me. I no wan disgrace myself.

I just understand, shake head:

"No wahala, Mama. I don deliver cake, I dey go."

My voice soft, steady. I fit hear my heart dey drum for chest. For Kaduna, pride dey important pass food. I just turn, dey waka go.

As I turn, I hear Mama Garba dey scold:

Her voice crack, she dey try hold Sani Garba for room. She dey warn am with motherly threat. "Sani, this thing no good o! You no like Zeezee before? If you treat her like this, she go dey hurt. Zeezee go vex."

Then Sani Garba lazy voice:

I hear his voice, low, tired: "Leave am." He no even send anybody again. The tone cold, no care inside. Na that moment I know say the matter don finish for real.

……

Early morning next day, me and my parents move enter new house with movers help.

The new house dey for edge of Kaduna, close to where old railway track pass. The walls dey smell of new paint, but the windows still dey rattle. Neighbours dey watch us as we offload, some dey greet, some just dey look.

Because of money, Papa choose second-hand house wey dem renovate well.

We manage am. The gate no too strong, but my room get window wey sun dey shine enter. Mama say make I no worry, better days go come. For my heart, I dey plan how I go start afresh.

As e happen, e near Palm Grove Secondary School well well.

Na only fifteen minutes waka, so I fit save my transport money. Every morning, I dey see plenty new faces for street. Life just begin afresh.

First day for Palm Grove Secondary School, I no gree make my parents follow me. I know say Papa dey busy with new business, so I carry my bag, waka go alone.

I tie scarf well, carry my own water bottle. My heart dey beat fast, but I dey encourage myself with small prayer. For road, area boys dey play draft under mango tree. I waka quick, no look back.

The school gate paint dey peel, old security man dey sleep for plastic chair.

Homeroom teacher na chubby, bald man wey dey always smile.

He greet me with big smile, his shirt almost too tight. His teeth white, and he get that kain voice wey dey calm students down. I respect am from first day.

As we reach class door, everywhere just dey noisy anyhow.

Boys dey throw paper, girls dey argue about hair. The air thick with noise, smell of gala and cheap perfume. I grip my bag tight.

Because my left ear no dey hear, my right ear dey sharp. I no know who throw chair, but e shock me.

The chair hit wall with bang, and my body jump. My right ear pick every sound—laughter, shouts, even person dey whistle old Fuji tune. I stand still, try balance.

Homeroom teacher just smile give me: "No fear, just wait here small."

He wink at me, like say we dey share inside joke. I feel small relief, dey tap my shoe for floor.

He waka enter, hand for waist, shout:

His voice thunder for class, make everybody pause. The kind confidence wey only Kaduna principal fit get. His stomach poke out, but him ginger plenty.

"Everybody, make una quiet!"

He shout am, the windows even shake small. Some people laugh, others just freeze.

Nobody answer am…

Some stubborn boys dey form hard guy, girls dey chew gum loud. I dey watch, dey try learn who be who.

Him face just red: "If una no quiet, I go call una parents o!"

Everybody know say for Naija, if teacher call your mama, na wahala go land. Some people adjust, others hiss. The teacher face dey red like tomato for harmattan.

Last last, dem calm down.

The room quiet, only fan dey whine. I sigh, happy say wahala don reduce.

"Today, we get new transfer student."

He announce with small clap. All eyes turn face me. I fit feel their curiosity like heat.

I waka enter, stand for front, talk small:

I arrange my skirt, try smile. "Hello everybody, my name na Zainab—the 'Zai' from gardenia."

Noise just bust everywhere:

Boys dey snap finger, girls dey giggle. One tall girl for back dey form tough, but I see smile for her eye. Everybody dey check who this new girl be.

"The transfer girl fine o!"

One guy talk, voice loud. Everybody laugh. I just face ground, dey shy. For new school, small fine na big wahala.

"Abeg, my hair fine so?"

Girls dey adjust their braids, dey eye me like competition don land. For Naija school, hair na big matter.

For corner, one person talk with vex:

He just talk sharp, voice low, but everybody hear. His chair close to window, him shoe dey untied, but his eyes dey serious.

"Una too dey make noise."

His voice hush the whole class. For my mind, I dey wonder who be this one. I dey curious, but I hide am.

Everywhere quiet.

Na so even the class teacher pause, dey look am. The respect dey obvious. I just dey reason my seat.

I surprise small. Homeroom teacher rub him head, then tell me make I go sit down for front of that person.

I nod, arrange my bag. I dey look round, people dey watch. I waka slow, dey careful make I no fall hand.

I pause.

I stand for one second, dey check the chair with my hand, make sure e no get pin. Boys for back dey whisper, but I no send.

Teacher tell me: "No worry, that boy no dey beat girls."

Everybody laugh small. I just form smile. In my heart, I dey wonder the kind school wey I enter.

Me: ………

I sigh, carry face front. This life ehn, you go hear things for Naija school wey go make you question your destiny.

So na boys him dey beat. This one na wah.

For my mind, I dey pray make I survive this Palm Grove. I place my hearing aid well, ready for new chapter.

My new seatmate na girl wey introduce herself:

She stretch hand, her fingers stained with biro ink. She dey smile, her eyes bright, voice soft.

"My name na Kemi Aina, but everybody dey call me Kemi."

She adjust her scarf, her accent pure Yoruba. “No fear, Zeezee, for here, na survive we dey survive.” She adjust her bag for lap, offer me gala. I smile, dey happy say I fit find better padi here.

I nod.

I take gala, break small, chew. Na so we start to dey gist, small small. My tension dey reduce.

As teacher enter, I quick bring out my book.

I open my book, pencil ready. For my mind, I dey promise myself say I go start afresh, show say I sabi book anywhere.

Palm Grove Secondary School no be like Queen's College at all.

The desks old, some dey scratch wall with biro, and the windows dey leak sunlight. Class dey scatter, but life dey inside.

For class, everybody dey do their own. Some dey sleep, some dey read novel, some dey fix nails. Paper airplane dey fly for air.

Na true Naija classroom—noise everywhere, but learning still dey happen somehow. My eye dey dance from face to face, dey pick new gist.

Teacher no send. She sip malt, then pick her book:

She cross leg, adjust her glasses, then sigh. I fit see say she dey try, but students stubborn. Na real Kaduna wahala.

"Where I stop?"

She rub her forehead, dey scroll through her notes. Some people dey giggle, others dey scroll phone under desk.

I just help her: "The third big question."

I talk loud enough, make she hear. She nod, smile at me. Small encouragement dey sweet teacher.

She nod: "True."

Her eyes light up, voice get small hope. She dey reason say maybe new student go change things.

Then look me like say she see ghost:

She open mouth, dey study me like rare animal. For her face, surprise full ground.

"Person dey listen to my class?"

Her voice high, class burst laugh. I just smile, dey blush. For my mind, I know say Palm Grove go ginger me well.

Na Kemi tell me later say: if Palm Grove Secondary School bad, then Class 13—our class—na the worst. Na all the stubborn ones dem gather here.

She yarn me for break time, her mouth full of chin-chin. "Zeezee, just dey shine your eye. This class no be for weak mind. But if you fit survive here, you fit survive anywhere for Naija."

When I transfer, homeroom teacher beg principal well before dem gree put me for him class.

Na only because I get better result for mock, dem allow me. I dey grateful, but I know say wahala dey front.

As I dey watch Kemi dey chop gala for class, I just realise say this world funny but full of life.

I dey watch her arrange gala with pepper, her laughter dey ring for class. Some boys dey throw paper, girls dey snap finger. Even with the wahala, I feel hope inside me.

After that day, teacher begin get ginger to teach. Some students even begin listen small small.

The teacher dey try more, dey call me to answer question. Others dey follow my lead, small small class begin change. My spirit dey lift.

As class finish, everybody rush comot.

Na so people dey pack bag, dey run for canteen. Na only me, Kemi, and one sleeping boy remain.

I see the boy for corner still dey sleep.

His head rest for desk, mouth dey open small. Sun dey shine for his face, but he no send. He dey sleep deep, the kain sleep wey you dey get after chop amala for break.

School wan close.

The school bell dey ring for distance. I pack my bag, then waka go his side, dey wonder whether to wake am or leave am.

I waka go wake am: "Guy, school don finish."

I tap am small for shoulder. Him body warm, but he no shake. I raise voice small, make sure say he hear.

He raise head, eye half open.

He yawn, rub face, then look me. Him eyes sharp, like say he sabi something wey others no sabi.

Him sharp, narrow eyes look me direct. Under him high nose, thin lips just bend small, smile.

His smile dey lazy, but e sweet. I fit see small dimple for left cheek. My heart just skip small beat.

"Thanks, wife."

Him voice low, but playful. I just open mouth, surprise. Kemi dey laugh for back. For my mind, I dey think: As the boy call me “wife,” my heart jump. For this Palm Grove, I no know if na love or wahala dey wait, but I ready.