Boarding School Tales: School Mother By Force

School daughters were all the rage when I was in JS1 and it was something of a privilege to be selected because only cute girls, aje butter girls or girls with boyfriend material older brothers, got mothered. Unfair? Welcome to QC, a baptism in life lessons.

Personally, I didn’t care to be mothered by anyone.  I didn’t need some agbaya eating my provisions and parading me like I was some kind of show horse, in exchange for protection.  I had a cousin who was in SS3 at the time and she did a fine job of looking out for me, without guzzling my Rice Krispies and Peak milk.

One evening during night prep, two SS3 girls walked into my class. One was tall and skinny, and the other, short and child-like in appearance. But for the prefect badge she wore, I would have mistaken her for a junior. Looking around, they decided that my class was the perfect place to prep so they settled in for the night.

A little while later a voice rang through the classroom;

“Emotan girl, what’s your name?”

It was the tall skinny one. I wasn’t sure who she was talking to so I remained silent.

“Emotan girl, are you deaf, I said, what’s your name?”

I looked around at the multitude of Emotan (green house) girls in the class. How on earth were we supposed to know who she was talking to?! She pointed at me and I realised I was the chosen one.

“Come here.”

She asked me a series of personal question; which primary school I came from, where I lived, where I’d spent my summer holiday (yes, best believe it!), if I had siblings. Interrogation over, she pointed at her little prefect friend next to her and said, “This is Senior Little. From now on, she is your school mother.”

And that was how, without consultation, campaign or any democratic process, I landed myself a school mother….and I wasn’t happy about it. I could see her being ground to dust by her hefty colleagues; how did she intend to protect me?!

I was the worst school daughter in the history of school daughters. I never visited her, asked for her help or paid any special attention to her; besides saying hello when I saw her of course. She was nice enough and under different circumstances, we could have been friends, but I just couldn’t get past the fact that I had been bullied into having a school mother.

My lack of school daughter etiquette did not go down well and soon enough Senior Little decided it was time to teach me a lesson. One day I received a summons to her dorm. I arrived there to find her and her side kick waiting for me.

“Kneel down and fly your arms.”

After about 10mins, I decided to enquire as to what sin I had committed.

“Please Senior Little, what did I do wrong?”

You have to forgive me, I was still a rookie. Evidently, I had not yet learnt to only speak when spoken to.

“Are you mad? You have the audacity to ask me stupid questions! You must be crazy. In fact, get up from there and hang on that bunk!”

Huh? Hang what where?!

Seeing the look of confusion on my face, she called one of the juniors in her dorm to demonstrate my new punishment. When I saw what I was expected to do, I wished I could reverse time and keep my big mouth shut! I really don’t know who came up with that punishment but they must have been closely related to the devil. 

That was how I found myself suspended from a bunk bed, sweat oozing out of every pore on my body. I had been hanging for about 15minutes when I heard heavy footsteps thundering down the corridor. Suddenly the door to the dorm swung open and in marched my cousin. Later on I found out that one of the seniors in Senior Little’s dorm was friends with my cousin and on seeing my predicament, sent word to my saviour.

“What is the meaning of this rubbish?! Waila, GET DOWN FROM THAT BUNK NOW!!!”

I didn’t need telling twice. I jumped down so fast, I lost my footing and landed on my backside.

I had suspected that Senior Little’s powers of protection were non-existent and I was right. I watched in utter glee as my cousin proceeded to verbally pound her and her lanky sidekick. Satisfied that her threats of bodily harm had been understood, my hero grabbed me by the arm and marched me away to victory.

And that was how I once again became school motherless.

Senior Little and her friend still prepped in my class so I had to make sure I was always on my best behaviour. I would sit quietly and stick my nose in my books, knowing that if I as much as sneezed, I’d be dead meat.

Maybe that was why I did so well academically in JSS1.