Teaching usually started after 8am, right after morning assembly. And the hours before classes started, they were called “silence hour”. During this period, pupils who were present at school were numbered. The teachers on duty for the week would then storm classroom after classroom in the course of the day, fishing out late comers and flogging them mercilessly.

I was fortunate to arrive at school on time. Just as I had suspected, on days I came early to school, late comers were allowed to go unpunished.

Today in particular, the headmistress and the accountant were ruminating the contents of a very large book. The headmistress seemed displeased by what she saw.

Soon, she spoke up.
“Good morning school! “
“Good morning, Aunty!” All the pupils responded in unison.

“Most of you haven’t still paid your fees as at now. As you all know, next two weeks is exams. Those who owe fees will not be allowed to write. Prices of food have gone up. The food you eat at school is not for free. The school needs money to buy food for you and to pay the teachers. So, if you hear your name, right after here, take your school bag and go home. Those of you whose parents come to pick you up after school, you’ll sit under that tree over there and wait for them. You’ll not be allowed into the classrooms… “

Class by class, names were mentioned. I felt lucky my name was on the list. I hadn’t done my homework. What a narrow escape from the fangs of our new, mean teacher with a thick head like that of an iron bull. Long before he was brought to our class, it was rumored that crooked students who walked into his class came out straight. A big cane beside his desk was the miracle worker assisting him in his impressive feats.

If the headmistress thought sacking us for owing fees made us sad, she was dead wrong. Most of us were excited. Strolling home happily through the northern savanna grasslands on which herdsmen grazed their cattle, I imagined an interesting nollywood movie being televised on Metro TV. I couldn’t wait to get home!

Occasionally, a peasant farmer working on a field would stop and ask us why we were returning home earlier than usual.

Fees. I explained, unable to conceal my joy.

After combing hills and trees, not forgetting to stop by a stream to bait a few fish, I arrived at a crossroad where I had to part company with my schoolmates.
“Good bye Hamdia!”
“Good bye Tina!”
“Good bye Paul! “…