I STILL HATE MATHS AND THE LONG, HOT TREK HOME. But I determine not to quit. Ikuku’s words—You have more potential as an educated man—have reinforced my belief in myself, and rekindled my hopes of catching up in school. English and literature and history are my best subjects. Lioness, with her toothy way of talking, becomes one of those curiosities that make school bearable. Nza’s genius at mathematics and chemistry now fills me with awe, though I am still nursing my anger at him for humiliating me in front of the class. He still skips about like a wren and caws like a crow.
I visit the cave sometimes when I return from school to spend time with Okike. Time and time again, she has unlocked the door when I thought it had closed against me. I often sleep on her tomb until my mother wakes me up in the middle of the night and insists that I come inside. My evenings, weekends, and holidays are spent picking oil bean seeds and palm kernels, which I sell to pay my weekly dues to the Biafra Zionist Movement. The group is growing. At the last count, there were more than fifty members. I attend their meetings regularly and pay my dues religiously. I also forage the bush for the seeds that break out of their pods in the intense sun with a clapping sound. It is not stealing when they are picked in this way. I sell them at Ogige market when I collect a good quantity. I use the money to buy secondhand clothes, football boots, and other little things, but when I need money for something big, I climb a tree and steal its pods.
I still smoke and drink alcohol in secret whenever I have the money to buy them. I can’t stop going to Ogige market to carry loads because of the gnawing hunger that torments my stomach. When they see me, my classmates laugh at me at school the next day. They call me onye eburu for carrying groceries and other purchases for the university women or heavy sacks of goods for traders who are returning from the large market in Onitsha. I steal from customers, a careless customer or a fat one who cannot keep pace, as I have seen other boys do. I navigate in between the aisles that appear the same to those who are not very familiar with the market. In this way I can confuse the customer, lose myself in the crowd, and rocket out of sight to safety with the load the moment I come clear. I then sell the items later or take them home and lie to my mother that I bought them.
School would be even better if not for Nnamdi Adaka, the rascally boy in my class, a late bloomer like me, though no one dares call him names. He is younger than me by at least one year, and burly. A bully. Every student fears him. He makes it his business to know everything about anyone who cuts his interest. He has formed a gang of boys who make mischief. They drop things they are holding in front of the classroom and pretend to pick them up in order to peep at girls who are not properly seated. They sneak into the bush behind the school block to smoke and drink alcohol, and to kiss and fondle girls. Nnamdi tasks the junior boys to pay dues to him from time to time. He doesn’t care how they get the money, if they steal from their parents. He issues threats should the boys fail to pay or summon the courage to report him. No one dares say anything to the teachers, who are afraid of him, too. Rumour has it that he is a cultist. A teacher was once shot at with a catapult. The stone grazed his temple and missed his left eye. The culprit was not caught, but it was believed Nnamdi Adaka had shot at the teacher in retaliation for a punishment. And, unfortunately, he despises me. The mere sight of me irritates him. He is a very clumsy footballer, but each time we have training practice he bullies his way into the opposing team. He almost always ends up in blows with someone. I worry that one day it will be me.
I look forward to the holid1ays and sing with gusto:
Holiday is coming!
Holiday is coming!
No more clanging bells
No more teachers’ whip!
Goodbye, teachers. Goodbye, scholars.
We are going on a jolly holiday!
Girls: A jolly—
All: Holiday!
Girls: A jolly—
All: Holiday!