Tuesday morning. Time for school. After staying at home for some days, my fees were finally paid. My siblings were lucky, theirs had been paid before those who owed fees were dismissed from school.

Now, a certain picture was taking shape in my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was true: our parents were not financially stable.

It explained so many things. Now I understood why mother turned into a professional barber overnight instead of sending us to Uncle Sulé’. Now I know why everyday after school we had to go and sell frozen fish to nearby neighborhoods. And why it took dad months of saving to buy his first TV.

A car honked. Ah, the landlord! He was ready to send his children to school. I couldn’t find my science homework book. Damn!

Hurrying to the car with my siblings, we squeezed ourselves into the backseat. As usual, Esther Smith was playing. Our landlord’s favorite gospel artist.

We always walked to all the places mother sent us on errands: to send foodstuff to a struggling family, to the market, to the telephone booth in town to call dad whenever he traveled and was returning home to find out where he had reached.

So sitting in a car to school was a big deal. Just like the first day daddy bought his first television set. We sat on the floor of the living room like kids about to rehearse a Christmas Carol, excitedly  staring at the moving pictures on our screen.

I remember mother warning us that only those of us who take our bath will be allowed to see our new relative. The TV was now a member of the family.

Our landlord’s little Nissan took us through its usual route: the path behind Kojo’s house, through the dusty road beside the blocks factory, then to the tarred road where we saw other pupils hurrying to school. Many on motorbikes, some on bicycles, a few in cars and a lot more on foot.

Of course we knew the route and scenes inside out. But in the car, it felt like we had new spectacles that gave us insight into pleasures we were once blind to…