I was late for the exam and it was one of the papers I missed to go to a cinema instead, a semester before. Some random notice said my branch had to write exams at hall number 13. I ran to the hall just in time and I had one friend for company (of course we both were at the cinema).
I was a little surprised that day for every time I rewrote an exam I had at least ten people from my class for company. The paper must have been real easy the last time because apart from the two of us, there was no one else from my class though the hall seemed real crowded.
There were like six stickers on a table, six different series of numbers meaning six different batches would be using the same table at different time slots. My friend found his table and I found someone already using mine.
Since the hall was crowded I thought the numbers didn’t matter and I used an empty table. I had my question paper and I was actually a little relieved I recognized a few questions.
And in walked a dork.
A dork because for one he looked like a nerd, two this engineering student had a flowered pouch that school girls normally used and three because he stood beside my table and started to argue with me. His number he said was on my table amongst the other five. He elbowed me a little for the ownership before a supervisor intervened.
The dork was allotted an empty table just beside me and I met his eye to give him the who-is-your-daddy-now look. He sunk his head in to the paper and I did too or so to speak.
I hate this kind of people, you know like not even having the decency to reason. There were like a whole row of tables empty and he could have used one, after all we were all writing the paper the second third or I don't know whateth time.
The staff wasn’t organized too, I thought because our numbers weren't there on the roll call.
In walked a gentleman supervisor.
A gentleman because for one he wasn't angry I wasn't at the hall I was supposed to be along with my friend, two he wasn't angry since this hall had people writing their actual papers (like not repeating) and three he wasn't angry either I was actually using someone else's table (the gentle man beside me in this case).
I literally sunk my head in to my answering sheet and question paper until this guy beside finished his and luckily for me left the hall without looking at me. I waited a whole ten minutes to make sure the guy had left before I submitted my answering sheet.
It seemed my bad times were over as I walked out of the hall.
I bent below the first table to pick up my phone which was inside my friend's bag, only to see a pair of legs in high heels convoluting. The girl was already staring when I lifted my head up in no time and without finding my phone.
Well some days, they are real beautiful.
Six months is a real short time
My mornings before my travel to school for all the seven years ran on a blue print. It was always the same for I would be away at school for close to 6 months.
My father always woke me up at precisely 3.00 am on his watch, 2.50 on the wall clock; I still have no idea how he managed to rise with out an alarm and in all those years. My house would already be alive and most times I would be the one to wake up second last, my sister would still be asleep from her previous day's late hours of study. My father would have almost dressed up except for his shoes.
I would then walk in to the open space behind my house to see my mother and my brother's wife busy preparing food for the travel and snacks that I was supposed to eat in hiding at school for at least a month. My brothers, the three of them were rarely together, but whoever was there had my dress neatly pressed, my shoes shiny and my baggage packed.
My mother always made sure two whole buckets of warm water was in the bathroom with the costliest sachet of shampoo and soap available. A mug of warm water on my head ran a weird chill down my spine, something I have never been able to get over to date. By now one of my brothers packed the food and the snacks.
When I was all dressed up, my father would make sure my shirt had little wrinkles, this was when my mother slipped money in to my pockets with my father watching. My grand mother would sneak her precious savings in to my hands with no one noticing and my brothers always managed to give me money as I wore my shoes. My brother's wife would then empty her tailoring kit box of all she had in to my pockets.
My little sister would be awake by now as the clock ticked to 5.00 am. Hugs and kisses would then flow from all over and some more money would find my hands, from I don’t know where.
The whole family would then walk in the dark towards the end of the street, with my luggage on a bicycle one of my brothers rode and this was precisely when my mother made sure I was even richer and with out my father watching. My grand mother, mother, sister and my brother's wife stopped at the end of the street, not before all of us had shed at least a tear. I would tread on, holding my brother's hands.
When we reached the highway, my brothers would stop every bus before I had a seat and would wave me and my father good bye, these strong men they never cried. The bus went through post office my mother and father worked; I made sure I had a glimpse.
At 6.00am I would be an hour and a half early for the train, courtesy my dad. My uptight, strict dad talked a lot during this time mostly asking me to work harder, made sure I had the best biscuits, almost always got a surprise gift and kissed my hands through the window as the train moved out of the station.
With some other school mates from around my place on the train, the travel was enjoyable, a little relieved because I'd be on my own with the money. The end of the travel was the most exciting part, with wads of money I bought the silliest of things, like this one time I bought a cricket bat for around 500 bucks which lasted for precisely two days. When I was sure I had very little money left, I left to school.
After a few days, when my school and the seniors start to make sure my day is as bad as possible, lying on my bed in the dark and crunching on the potato chips I promised my family I would have in hiding, I would realize the day of my travel in my head and would start to tell myself …
Six months is a real short time…
Six months is a real short time…
My father always woke me up at precisely 3.00 am on his watch, 2.50 on the wall clock; I still have no idea how he managed to rise with out an alarm and in all those years. My house would already be alive and most times I would be the one to wake up second last, my sister would still be asleep from her previous day's late hours of study. My father would have almost dressed up except for his shoes.
I would then walk in to the open space behind my house to see my mother and my brother's wife busy preparing food for the travel and snacks that I was supposed to eat in hiding at school for at least a month. My brothers, the three of them were rarely together, but whoever was there had my dress neatly pressed, my shoes shiny and my baggage packed.
My mother always made sure two whole buckets of warm water was in the bathroom with the costliest sachet of shampoo and soap available. A mug of warm water on my head ran a weird chill down my spine, something I have never been able to get over to date. By now one of my brothers packed the food and the snacks.
When I was all dressed up, my father would make sure my shirt had little wrinkles, this was when my mother slipped money in to my pockets with my father watching. My grand mother would sneak her precious savings in to my hands with no one noticing and my brothers always managed to give me money as I wore my shoes. My brother's wife would then empty her tailoring kit box of all she had in to my pockets.
My little sister would be awake by now as the clock ticked to 5.00 am. Hugs and kisses would then flow from all over and some more money would find my hands, from I don’t know where.
The whole family would then walk in the dark towards the end of the street, with my luggage on a bicycle one of my brothers rode and this was precisely when my mother made sure I was even richer and with out my father watching. My grand mother, mother, sister and my brother's wife stopped at the end of the street, not before all of us had shed at least a tear. I would tread on, holding my brother's hands.
When we reached the highway, my brothers would stop every bus before I had a seat and would wave me and my father good bye, these strong men they never cried. The bus went through post office my mother and father worked; I made sure I had a glimpse.
At 6.00am I would be an hour and a half early for the train, courtesy my dad. My uptight, strict dad talked a lot during this time mostly asking me to work harder, made sure I had the best biscuits, almost always got a surprise gift and kissed my hands through the window as the train moved out of the station.
With some other school mates from around my place on the train, the travel was enjoyable, a little relieved because I'd be on my own with the money. The end of the travel was the most exciting part, with wads of money I bought the silliest of things, like this one time I bought a cricket bat for around 500 bucks which lasted for precisely two days. When I was sure I had very little money left, I left to school.
After a few days, when my school and the seniors start to make sure my day is as bad as possible, lying on my bed in the dark and crunching on the potato chips I promised my family I would have in hiding, I would realize the day of my travel in my head and would start to tell myself …
Six months is a real short time…
Six months is a real short time…
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