The noisemakers in the class wanted someone lenient, forgiving and easy to persuade as the leader of the class.

Their long awaited opportunity finally came one morning during ‘silence hour’, when the headmistress burst into our class. The class was alive with mischief, chaos and noise.

Surely we were going to be punished. Severely. Make no mistake about that.

We were made to place our heads on our tables as two clean pair of hot lashes landed on our backs. It felt like an injection, the contents initially staying at the tip of the jab, then slowly diffusing into the rest of the body. You have no idea which part of the body to rub in order to soothe the pain.

“Where is your teacher?” She finally gasped after completing the immunization exercise to inoculate us against rowdiness.

“He’s not in school yet.” A few pupils managed to stammer in unison.

“So that’s why you’re making noise instead of reading your books? Who is the class prefect?”

Just then, Master Kutcher came in.

“They were making noise, I guess.” He remarked, after greeting the headmistress.

“This one especially…” Master Kutcher added, taking the cane from the headmistress and giving the pupil in question some bonus whips.

When the headmistress left, Master Kutcher decided to change the class prefects. They were ineffective.

The practice in our school was that, class prefects were elected by class members. And so, the class had to nominate at least two boys, two girls, then voting began by raising our hands for counting.

Naa, the chief noismaker, stood no chance of winning because the candidates were usually academically brilliant. The teacher was going to veto his nomination.

But in a class reputed for its rowdiness, Naa had a solid base of supporters. So, he secretly convinced most of them to nominate and endorse me. I was the quiet, shy type they could manipulate. I couldn’t see through their scheming. To me, it was an honor.

Yaro and I were nominated. And for the girls, Queen Sherifa and no one else.

Sherifa was the boss of the boss ladies in class. No one dared contest her.

Voting began, presided over by Master Kutcher.

“Those of you who want Patrick to be your class prefect, put up your hands! “

About seventy percent of the class’ hands were up. As I turned to scan the faces whose hands were up, a few more joined. I could hear Naa whispering a couple of hands into the air. No chances were to be taken in securing absolute victory.

Undescribable joy and happiness starting welling in my heart. Victory was certain.

Yaro realized defeat was staring him right in the face. And so, without waiting for Master Kutcher to say, “Those of you who want Yaro to be your class prefect…”, he headed for his seat amidst booing and jeers.

Raising the hands of Sherifa and I, our teacher declared us the new leaders of Primary 4A.

For the first time in my life, I too tasted power. And it was sweet…