I came from a wealthy family. Very wealthy family. I basically had all I ever needed and had never lacked. We were not overly religious but we were Christians and went to church every Sunday. I loved my mum and dad but not in an ‘oh my God’ way. They provided all my needs and I appreciated them for that. There was no bosom relationship there. I was closer to my sister, though we gave each other space enough. My mum always wanted the best for me so she proposed I school outside the country. My dad never refuses her request so when he vehemently opposed it, she stopped asking and started looking for very good schools in Nigeria. I had never seen my parents argue till the evening dad came home withthe news that I would school in his home town.
“What!” Mum said dropping the glass in her hands which made a shattering sound.
Dad had just returned from work and walked unto us all at the living room but his reply to mum’s greeting was the news.
My sister quickly got up to go and get a broom to clear up the broken glass. I had never been faced with the situation and not knowing how to react, I just remained seated with my face glued to the telly but listening.
“How can you say that?! How can you even think that?! You hate your hometown, you never go there unless need be. I can deal with that alright but there is no good school there. How can you want your son to be there?” She screamed
Dad walked toward the dinning and she followed suit.
“You need not scream, the kids are around. I enquired about the school there and sent someone there myself to investigate and I heard fair reports.” He replied.
“Fair reports? Fair reports? For your only son, fair reports? What is wrong with you? I can’t believe you right now.”
“He’s had the best all his life, you may not understand now but he needs this.” He reassured
Their words were muffled, the rest of the conversation. The next day I travelled down with my dad to start the admission process and he kept telling me that it was about the student and not the school. That I could be outstanding if I choose to be.
Mum wasn’t happy but I didn’t mind. It was a recognized school, up to the standards set by the ministry of education, it had lecturers and students alike with suitable lecture halls at least in my department so it was enough for me. She took it upon herself to get me a great hostel accommodation and furnished it well.
But ever since I began school in full swing, I felt out of place, something felt missing, an essence, a purpose. It wasn’t what I was used to. It wasn’t the rich kids struggling to be noticed or make best results. It wasn’t kids whose zombie lives were being driven about. It was not better but it was different, it created a longing that I didn’t even understand.
Same time next week