The Miracle

Six

The security man opened the swing gate for our vehicle to get into the large school compound. Segun pulled up in a parking space as directed by another security guard wearing a green polyester uniform, high boots, and black specs. On the arm of his uniform was the label MOPOL. He had in his hand a koboko whip, which on sight shocked me. Did he use that on students? 

From the car window, I stared at the monumental school building; “Millennial Academy,” I mouthed as I read the bold inscription at the top, where stood at both sides two polls of the Nigerian flag and another flag that had the school’s logo and motto on it: Discipline and Diligence. It was a Federal boarding school.

Segun had suggested that I attended a boarding school for he believed that it will make me learn to be more independent and studious. I didn’t know how to feel about it, but the mention of independence sounded like music to my ears. Mum, however, had expressed skepticism as though she wasn’t certain if she was willing to let me live in a world outside her care. And I definitely could understand her fear. She had lost her entire family, and the only one she had was me. What if she loses me to the constant bully of those ruthless senior students in boarding houses? 

“I think a day school will be better, at least where I know I can have my eyes on him.” She had said to Segun, but Segun — though he had tried not to come across as a manipulative dictator who always wanted to have his way — was bent on making her see reasons with him. He had told Mum that because he, for one, had attended a boarding school, he could vouch that boarding school was a better pick. Asides from the continuous supervision the students got, he pointed out that my habit of always being on the TV twenty-four-seven would end. First off, what gave him the right to make decisions about where I should or shouldn’t school? He wasn’t even Mum’s boyfriend, let alone my stepdad. So because he was sponsoring my education, he felt entitled to choose the school I attended? Secondly, did he just imply that there was a no-TV policy in a boarding house? 

For that, I had hoped Mum would be adamant about her choice for a day school as I had lost interest in Segun's so-called independence since it was going to deprive me of TV.

But it turned out he had won Mum over with his point. 

Mum agreed to take me to a boarding school, but under the condition that it was going to be a co-educational institution. She didn’t like the idea of an all-boys school. She said it could expose me to homosexuality. She had even suggested I attended a missionary school, where religion and good morals were the norms, but I vehemently refused. 

“Why don’t you want to attend a Christian school?” Mum had asked.

“I just want to be in a normal school.”

“So a Christian school isn’t normal?”

“No not that, but I don’t want to be in a school where everything is Jesus, prayer... those kinds of things.”

Mum narrowed her eyes in disbelief, “And that’s a problem? Is that not what a Christian’s life should revolve around?”

I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t sure about any of those religious practices anymore, but I thought better of it. That was only going to give Mum another reason to stand firm on her decision to send me to a missionary school. 

“I just want to attend a… a normal school, that’s all.” I couldn’t think of a better word than ‘normal’.

“I get where the young boy is coming from.” Segun had come to my defense. “He doesn’t want to attend a school where he’d feel restricted. And frankly, I think religious schools like that can limit students’ exposure to other points of view and also make them shut out from anyone who doesn’t share their belief.”