a shift in balance

The atmosphere was thick with excitement as I watched girls in white dresses running around asking whether their accessories matched or whether they powdered their faces too much.

‘Hey, you stepped on my shoes.’ I heard a girl say.

‘I said you stepped on my shoes!’ I heard her say once more.

‘Don’t you think you owe me an apology?’ she said again as I turned around to see that it was one of our adjacent dorm mates.

She was dressed in a white dress with an earring missing on her left earlobe and facing Tundun like a cub waiting to pounce on her breakfast.

‘Sorry, but don’t you think it would do us all a lot of good if you had stayed in your dormitory?’ Tundun replied in a hurry trying with force to zip up her dress.

‘I don’t have a dormitory to stay, haven’t you heard? I’m done with secondary school!’ she said with condescension and walked away.

I laughed from the bunk bed where I was sitting… legs crossed. I had woken up earlier than most to dress up, because I had imagined it would be a busy and stressful day.  What I hadn’t thought of was the difficulty in human relations that day. Emotions collided and comportment was gone.

‘It’s not funny Kint. You can come down from that highland of yours and help zip up this dress.’ Tundun said, still struggling with her dress.

‘Kint’. That was what Tundun and everybody in the school called me. A nickname Tundun had dubbed me from my name ‘kinturayo’ the first day we met. Tundun was my best friend in secondary school. Though I had many friends in school, some coming and going, Tundun was the longest lasting friend I ever had.

I helped Tundun with her dress and we stepped out of the dormitory, trying to walk around the wastes and the used wrapping sheets flying around the wastebasket. The day before had been gift’s day. We had exchanged gifts among ourselves. ‘Parting gift’ was what we called it. We cried together and laughed, each of us appreciating the time we had spent together. The anxiety on our faces was evident as we removed the wraps of the gifts. The unsuspected anger we felt as we got cheap gifts and the joy untold when an unexpected gift came our way were all gone as an all-night party ensued. The party had been strictly for graduating students while the 'undergraduates' peeked through the window. We partied like never before. Drinks were snuck in earlier by bribing some of the security officers, foods were prepared by some students who volunteered without the knowledge of the school authorities. It was our big night of experimenting with freedom and the very same night I began to question freedom.

‘Hey Kint, I’ll really miss you!’ Taye, my class president said as we joined the long queue of girls marching to the school hall, where the graduation ceremony was to be held.

‘I’ll miss you too.’ I replied with a smile. And those were my most-said words that day.

As we marched down to the school hall, I watched as the other girls who were not graduating watched and commented on our hairs, dresses and shoes. It was going to be the talk of each day for the rest of the school term. I knew that because I was also once watching from the sideline where they were, yearning to be part of the long queue of graduating students marching to the school hall.

I smiled as I remembered, and I looked up to the sky.

‘Do you think it’s going to rain today?’ Tundun asked behind me.

‘You tell me, you were always the best weatherman I know.’ I said, turning slightly to see her face.

‘Ha, let’s see… maybe later today. But I think we are still safe this morning. I really don’t want anything to ruin today.’ She said, frowning.

I raised my eyebrows as to ask of the sudden change in her physiognomy. ‘I’ve planned so much for today, don’t you understand? Its ‘sweet freedom day!’’

‘Can you guys move faster?’ Someone asked behind Tundun. We turned around to see it was Mary, the punctuality prefect. We looked into each other faces, giggled and walked faster.

We stood outside the school hall waiting for the ceremony to start. Visitors filed into the hall showing their invitation cards to two men by the door who were attired in Ankara and caps that were sown to make them look taller. They must be part of the hired coordinators, I thought, as I had never seen them before. Girls took photographs with one another nevertheless that the photographers hiked the fee. I took one with Tundun and I had with me already, the photos of my classmates and dorm mates. ‘Memories are intact in photographs’ Mr. Agbaje, my favorite teacher had said, when he was cajoling us to take the group photographs.

‘Will you behave yourselves as ladies and let us proceed with this ceremony?’ Mrs. Craig barked, causing a wave of silence. We rushed back to form the line we were on before and maintained the silence. Mrs. Craig was the principal of Girls’ Grammar school Alate. She was in her mid-fifties, light skinned, short and plump in stature. She had an aura of elegance. She need not demand respect before it was accorded her.

‘Need I remind you that you are about to graduate and have not yet graduated? So the rules of this prestigious school still apply to you!’ she said, as we each were given a leaflet by the ushers. I smiled as an usher handed me a leaflet, as I thought within myself if Mrs. Craig had any idea how many of those rules were broken already.

The ceremony began by singing the processional hymn from the leaflet. ‘Oh what a great day’, the hymn read. As we entered singing, people stood and joined in the song. I looked around and saw the faces of parents and guardians. Some smiled, some blew their noses, others waved… and then I saw my mother. She was at the far end of the hall, smiling and crying at the same time. She waved at me and I waved back. I returned my gaze to the leaflet in my hands and I was surprised to see my hands shake. Everything around me turned blur as tears streamed down my face. It had been six long years with holidays in between; Six years since my father had died; Six years of learning and coping.

The graduation went by with advice and encouragements from people from all spheres of life. They shared their experiences; the good and the bad. Some pled with us to take the right path in life, urging us to make mistakes but never repeat them. They told of how indeed freedom was sweet and how sour when misused. And all the voices drifted away as I wondered what my life would be like after secondary school. I had been admitted into Girls' Grammar school Alate just before my father died of diabetes and my mother moved from our home in the city with the family members in the village. She had told me we lost everything trying to get a good health care for my father. She got her life back when she remarried while i had been in the boarding house and spent my holidays with my grandparents on the cocoa farm where we barely made enough money for feeding ourselves. If there was one thing i was ever grateful for in my short existence in life, it was for the scholarships i had won in my second year in school. That kept my stay at GGSA insured. I had applied to the university to study law during the exam period as was required of every graduating student even when i knew tuition would be a problem but I had learnt from one of the many philosophies of Tundun that life is full of surprises. One of such surprises was to see my mother at my graduation. I had not seen her since the last time she visited me in school some months after my father’s death when she told me she was remarrying. She had to and I understood. I understood then, that i was alone; I understood that i had lost my family and GGSA was now my home.

I was still thinking of what fate might have for me now that my second sanctuary is now being yanked away by change, when Tundun hit my arm. Then I realized the ceremony was coming to a close as everybody stood up and sang the national anthem. An anthem of a ‘nation bound in freedom’. And there my internal struggle with freedom resurfaced.

As we marched outside in the order with which we came in, I thought about all that had been said. At least, those I heard. I realized everything that had been said was a summary of freedom and I wondered if I liked freedom. There and then I knew I had no idea what freedom really was or what to do with it. I pondered on the mystery of freedom and its limit and why it had limits as we walked outside the gate of the school to signify our freedom.

It was finally the hour that had been anticipated long ago. The minute I had looked forward to since my first day in school. The moment I would be allowed to walk pass the school gate without anyone's query. The awaited time that had been the root of many daydreams. The moment of freedom. And then with glimpse of it, I dreaded it and an untold fear enveloped me. Fear of the next moment and what it would bring. As we passed through the school gate, I felt as if I was in a trance. I watched as girls jumped and clapped outside the gate.  Some sang. It was the annual ritual for graduating students and we were to enjoy every minute of it. As the song of freedom rents the air, Tundun ran towards me and hugged me. ‘I’m so happy, I’m free.’ she said. I felt something snap within me as we hugged. I felt like my world was coming apart. The place and people I had built my life around were saying goodbye to me and me to them. I grieved for the times shared that were gone only to be laid to rest in the cemetery of memory. I looked at Tundun as we released the hold of each other and there I knew the feeling was mutual as she broke into tears.

While we were still holding each other, I felt someone tap me on my shoulder and I looked up to see my mother. I introduced Tundun to my mother. It was the first time Tundun was seeing her and she was as surprised by her prescence as i was.

Tundun excused herself to go see her parents and the atmosphere became tensed. I didn’t know whether to hug her or ask the numerous questions I had and had rehearsed over and over in my mind for years, while waiting for this moment. As I started to mumble something about her presence being a surprise, a man walked over to us with car keys dangling in his hands with a big smile on his face. ‘This is my husband’ my mother said. I was probably in shock because all I could do was nod. And all my replies to all he said to me as we stood outside GGSA’s gate were nods.

I came back to reality when Tundun walked towards me, her eyes red and sore from crying, to inform me that it was time for her to leave. This time, I couldn’t withhold my tears. I cried for my friend that was leaving; my father that left for the life beyond a while back; the life I knew that was ending and the uncertainty of the future. I hugged Tundun so hard I didn’t realize her parents were waiting until the honks from their car separated us. ‘I’ll miss you.’ she said. ‘I’ll miss you too.’ I replied.

I watched as the car that conveyed Tundun and her parents sped away in silence. ‘Go and pack your things, it’s time to go.’ my new stepfather said, and this time I heard.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

‘Lagos.’ he replied.

‘That’s where we live. We told your grandparents already, its time you lived with us.’

I nodded and did as he said. I wasn’t sure of what the future held for me. Or maybe my dream to become a lawyer would remain a dream but I knew for certain that I would pick Lagos over a cocoa farm any day. As I entered into his Mercedes Benz and smelled the interior, I realized it had been a while since I entered a car, and as the car sped passed the gate, looking at the now cloudy sky, I took in my first air of freedom; the most tensed air i had ever breathed in.