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  • Walt Shakes

    Walt Shakes

    Walter Ude (@Walt_Shakes) is an award-winning Nigerian writer, poet and veteran blogger. He is a lover of the written word. the faint whiff of nature, the flashing vista of movies, the warmth of companionship and the happy sound of laughter. He blogs at mymindsnaps.wordpress.com.

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There are many reasons I like Joseph Amuluche, one of my two best friends. Many reasons. First of all, he was a boy obviously born with a silver spoon, the last child of a wealthy family, but he was never a brat about it. In keeping with his down-to-earth personality, he’d had to turn down several overtures from Justice Igbonekwu in JSS3C to join ‘The Big Boys’, a clique of obnoxious JSS3 boys who fancied themselves better than the rest of us in the same set, simply because they came from moneyed backgrounds and lived in Lagos and Abuja.

And then, there was his attitude – he had a fearless, daredevil attitude that had often times got him – and Ibuka and I – in trouble. After the last scrape – where he cajoled us to join him in a mission to steal fruits from Mr. Ndubuogu’s fenced-in orchard, an adventure that got us nabbed by a prefect and earned us strokes of his cane – Ibuka had tearfully threatened that the next trouble Joseph brought on us would be the end of their friendship. Ibuka however says a lot of things he doesn’t mean when he’s distressed.

All week, we’d been playing the game of Truth or Dare. Whoever was given a dare and couldn’t tackle the challenge had to forfeit his lunch for the one who challenged him. Because of this penalty, coupled with his penchant for cowering in the face of daunting tasks, Ibuka always opted for Truth. Not so with Joseph. He always wanted to be dared, and refused to be cowed by the challenge. When I dared him to urinate into the gutter that bordered the quadrangle of our classroom, in full view of classes JSS3A and 3B, he very cockily, as cool as you please, unzipped his shorts and proceeded to carry out his business, amidst the shocked giggles of observing classmates.

It was Ibuka’s turn this Tuesday afternoon, and we were strolling leisurely back to the class. Break-time was ticking slowly to its end.

“Truth or dare,” he said after squeezing out all he could suckle from the pure water sachet in his hand.

“Dare,” Joseph said with gusto.

Ibuka tossed the sachet into a metal bin on our way. “I was hoping you would say that.” He had an impish smirk on his face. “I double dare you” – he stopped walking and looked in the direction of the SS3 classroom block – “to go to the Head Girl now-now and tell her that you love her and want to marry her.”

Time stood still.

I gaped at Ibuka.

For a moment, even Joseph’s jaw dropped. Then he snapped it shut and the familiar daredevil glint lit up his eyes. “Of course, tah! That one is small nah.”

“Oya, go and do it now,” Ibuka said.

“Eh, I will do it.”

“Now! Now-now, and we’ll follow you to make sure you go and meet her.”

“Ibuka – no! Joseph, are you crazy!” I was aghast. These boys couldn’t be serious. “You want to go and tell Senior Felicia that you love her – are you mad!”

“What’s the worst that will happen?”

“She’ll just wooze you slap. Or give you serious punishment. Or report you to Head Boy. Or…” I gestured helplessly as I ran out of steam on all the hell the Head Girl could bring down on him for his intended insolence. “Ibu, double dare him another one, abeg.”

“No! Let him go and do this one.”

“Ibuka –”

“Eze, relax –”

“Relax? Look, I no dey for this one oh.”

“Eh, you go to class and stay. Nobody is forcing you. As for me” – he turned to face the SS3 classroom block, hunching his shoulders with bolstered determination – “it’s show time!” And he started forward.

Ibuka shot me an amused look and shrugged. “Are you coming?”

I hesitated. There was no way this would end well, I thought. But the impending thrill of the dare tugged at my heart strings. I shrugged back and attempted a smile. “OK, let’s go.”

The two of us followed after Joseph from a safe distance. The plan was for us to be close enough to him to be certain he was telling Senior Felicia the exact words of the dare. Maybe read his lips. Or catch a whiff of his words. But still remain far enough so as not to appear as though we were eavesdropping on the dialogue. Senior students disliked when their juniors listened in on their senior gist, no matter how innocuous it may be.

As we came close to the block, we could see the Head Girl conversing with a couple of her friends. Felicia Asukwo was a dark-skinned, nice-looking girl with a full head of hair she kept in a well-combed afro bound backwards and a solid figure she kept hidden under knee-length skirts and blousy shirts. She had no boyfriend, led the school Catholic choir and was famous in school for the words ‘I don’t date, I’m saving myself for marriage’, which she slung at the Catholic prefect, Senior Moses, the first and last senior boy who dared to ask her out.

If Ibuka was hoping to humiliate Joseph, he couldn’t have picked a better person to dish it out.

We watched Joseph approach the bevy of girls with deliberately hesitant steps, his hands clasped together, an expression of heart-melting sweetness on his face. He was smiling. We stopped a few yards from them to observe.

“Senior Felicia . . . can . . . talk to you . . .”

“Yes . . . what . . . your name . . .”

We could only catch snatches of what they were saying.

He darted an uncertain gaze at the other two girls. The rapt attention on their faces was duplicated on Senior Felicia’s as she gestured impatiently for him to say what was on his mind.

“Well . . . thing is . . . want to . . . love you . . . to marry . . .”

Ibuka and I stilled, forgetting to breathe. He had done it!

The other two girls seemed frozen as well, staring with wide-eyed disbelief at the audacious junior boy standing meekly before them. Then, they glanced quickly at their friend, as though to gauge from her reaction what theirs should be.

For a moment, Senior Felicia herself rested a flinty stare on Joseph, her expression mask-like in its intensity.

“How dare you! Am I your mate?!”

Her hand lifted, swung through the air.

And struck his cheek with a ringing sound that echoed through the length and breadth of the block.

I blinked, and the scene dissolved from my imagination. I was waiting for exactly that to happen.

Instead, the Head Girl’s face cracked into a smile, and then she was laughing, throwing her head back and bringing a hand to her mouth. Her friends immediately began to chuckle, shaking their heads with belated amusement.

“How sweet . . . so adorable . . . your name again . . .”

“Joseph . . .”

“What class . . .”

“. . . 3B . . .”

“Okay . . . get older first . . . find me then . . . can discuss it better . . .” She nodded smilingly at him.

Joseph nodded back. She lifted a hand to his head, rubbing it with some sisterly affection before waving him away. Joseph grinned and sauntered off, towards us. His grin was roguish when he saw us watching him, our amazement apparent. He added a little bounce to his steps, one hand tucked inside his pocket, as he stopped before us. Behind him, we saw the girls give him one last look of amusement before shaking their heads and moving on toward their classroom.

“Guy, you too much!” I burst out.

“See morale!” Ibuka enthused.

Joseph tugged lightly at his collar. “Omo mehn, see me –”


We were startled around at the call. Senior Felicia was standing on the pavement, facing us. Her expression was stern. “Break time is almost over. Don’t let me catch you and your friends there when the bell rings.”

Nodding and giggling, we fled from her presence, just as the school bell pealed through the daytime atmosphere. For the rest of the school period, Joseph’s daring was all we could talk about. We bragged about it to classmates, getting responses that ranged from adamant disbelief to wide-eyed amazement.

“Joseph, talk true nah! Ees not good to lie oh!” Ebenezer hissed at us several minutes later. Our classes were long over, and we were trooping out of the dining hall after lunch. Ebenezer had located us at the vast double doors, and had refused to be rebuffed by our naked displeasure at his pestering.

“Guy, don’t disturb me,” Joseph snapped. “If you don’t want to believe me, then don’t. it’s not by force.” The three of us increased our pace as we headed briskly for our hostel.

But our speed didn’t seem to discourage Ebenezer. He remained behind us like a pesky fly. “Remember you go to church on Sundays, talk the truth and the truth shall set you free.”

“See me see wahala oh…”

“Ebenezer, leave us and go to your hostel nah, Haba…”

“Ah-ah, they send you? If they send you, tell them say you no see us oh…”

“The three of you are lying,” he flung back with ministerial rectitude. “And not only that, you’re lying with somebody’s name. Better tell the truth or else, I’ll report to Senior Felicia what you are saying.”

At that, Joseph stopped and swiveled to face Ebenezer. His mouth was a grim line, and his brows were pulled together in an expression of annoyance. However, whatever he was about to say didn’t happen, because when he opened his mouth to say it, a sharp call cut him off.

“Those four junior boys – run down here!”

We turned. Standing not very far away from us, by the gates of Hope House Senior Hostel, was the Catholic prefect, Senior Moses. His beady gaze was planted on us, and he had two fingers of his left hand up, gesturing us forward.

Feeling the ever-present wariness every junior boy knew at the call of a senior, we jogged toward him. Moses Emecheta was a slenderly-built boy, sharp-featured, with hair that was starting to recede prematurely, leaving his forehead to look overly prominent.

His baleful stare was on Joseph as we came to stand before him, when he asked, “Are you Joseph from JSS3B?”

Joseph nodded slowly.

Out of nowhere, the slap happened. Senior Moses’ hand rocketed forward, and his open palm struck Joseph’s cheek so hard he staggered back. The suddenness of the blow made my heart skip a beat, and I saw Ibuka and Ebenezer jump a few steps from the prefect with expressions that mixed fright with alarm.

“Is that any way to answer your senior?” Senior Moses hissed, his eyes glittering. “I asked, are you Joseph from JSS3B?”

For a second, Joseph stared stonily back at him, his eyes made glassy with unshed tears. He blinked them back furiously before saying woodenly, “Yes, senior. I am Joseph.”

“So, you’re the one who had the guts to chyke the Head Girl…”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ebenezer’s mouth drop open fractionally. Now, he believes.

“I didn’t chyke her,” Joseph was saying. “I merely told her that I love her and I will love to marry her.”

“And you say that’s not chyking?” The prefect cocked a scant brow.

“I wasn’t serious about what I said. It was just a dare.”

“Who dared you to do such a foolish thing?”

The caustic tone of the question made Ibuka cringe by my side.

“My friends,” Joseph replied.

“Which friends? These friends?” Senior Moses waved a hand at us.

“Senior – NO!” Ebenezer burst out then. “I’m not his friend oh!” His eyes were wide with panic as he spluttered on, “I am not his friend! These two are his friends! I’m not even in the same House with them. I am just his classmate! I wasn’t even there when he told Senior Felicia that nonsense! In fact, just now I was telling him that what he did was an insult, that –”

The rest of his words were choked off with another crack as Senior Moses whipped his palm across his face.

“Was I talking to you, ehn?” he snarled, and backhanded Ebenezer hard, the blow striking the other cheek. “Was I talking to you – Answer me!” And he lifted his hand a third time.

“No – senior! No! No! You were not!” Ebenezer wailed, cowering and raising his own hands over his head to parry the third blow, if it came. He wasn’t able to check his own tears, and beady drops glided down his reddened cheeks. In spite of the tenseness of the situation, I felt a perverse pleasure at the sight of his abject misery.

The senior boy brought down his hand and divided a glare between the four of us. “All of you, run to my dorm, and prostrate on the floor. Before I count to three. ONE!”

We sped past him, through the entrance of the hostel behind him.


We were on the pavement now, rushing for the door of the second dormitory. We shoved our way through the open doorway, tumbling inside the room, and hurriedly laid down on our bellies. There were a few people in the dormitory, and they stared at us with some curiosity. Nobody said anything to us.

My heart was pounding furiously as I fixed my gaze on the ground so close to my face. On my right, I could hear Ibuka muttering something that could only be a prayer. On his other side, Ebenezer lay, sobbing quietly. There was no sound from Joseph.

I stiffened when a shadow darkened the doorway. I looked up and felt my heart sink. The other boys lifted their heads too; Ibuka started sniffling and mumbling faster, while the sound of Ebenezer’s sobs climbed a decibel or two.

Senior Moses walked in; in his hand was a wiry-looking cane.

“Oga Mo,” someone hailed jocularly from a bunk, “wetin these small boys do you?” The speaker sat up on his bed, and I caught sight of the moon-round, acne-riven face of Senior Udoka.

“You been hear of that junior boy wey girls for our class been dey talk about, say him come chyke Felicia?”

Senior Udoka’s eyes rounded with comprehension. “The boy dey here?”

“See am there!” The prefect pointed his cane at Joseph. “See am as him keep head like coconut.”

The bunk creaked as Senior Udoka leaned forward. He yelled, “Come, boy, turn your head make I see your face.” When Joseph did as instructed, the SS3 boy grinned. “Na fine boy sha. No wonder, na only fine boys like that dey get that kain morale.” He chuckled.

“I go flog that morale comot from him body today.”

“Kai! Imagine the insult sef,” Senior Udoka continued with another chuckle. “Babe wey you chyke finish. Mo, she no gree for you, na im this small boy go follow you chyke. Insult upon injury.” And he cackled.

Senior Moses’ face hardened at the taunt, and his expression became flat, betraying the slight he, no doubt, still felt at the legendary snub he got when he asked the Head Girl out. And suddenly, without warning, he lashed out. The cane whistled through the air and struck Joseph’s buttocks. Ibuka, Ebenezer and I shrank back from the assault. Joseph flinched at the stroke, and that was it. There was no cry, no agitation, no outward show of pain. He simply put his head down over his crossed arms and lay stiffly as Senior Moses leveled stroke after stroke of his cane on his behind.

It was about a minute later that Senior Moses, his slight chest heaving with small pants, finally stopped flogging Joseph. The cane had whittled away, bits of it lying about Joseph’s body. He stepped back from Joseph and then said in a low, growling voice, “The four of you, get out of my sight.”

We scrambled to our feet, picked up our plates and cutleries, and hurried out of the dormitory, Joseph moving with slower steps. Without looking back, Ebenezer fled all the way out of the compound. Ibuka and I, however, flanked Joseph as we walked. He wasn’t crying, even though his eyes were moist and a shade of red. There was also anger on his face, the icy kind that made us unsure what to say to him.

“Joe…” Ibuka began, “I’m sorry…”

He didn’t say anything in response. He just kept walking.

“Joe…please, say something…”

He didn’t. We got to our dormitory and wordlessly proceeded with washing up our lunch things. As we put them away, Ibuka tried again. “Joe…please, I’m sorry. Are you angry with me?” He sounded miserable at the thought.

“No, I’m not,” he finally said, bolting his locker and turning to face us. His expression was still grim. “I’m not angry with you at all. This is not your fault.” And he made for the door.

“Where are you going to?” I asked.

“To Hope House junior hostel.”

“Can we come with you?”

He shrugged. “If you want.” He was out the door. We followed after him.

As we plodded across the assembly ground, I asked, “So why are we going to the junior hostel?”

“You’ll see,” he answered shortly.

The afternoon sun blazed down on us as we skirted around the girls’ hostel. Female laughter emanated from the windows, and two SS1 girls walked past us, chattering, their hands swinging their plastic buckets as they headed for the borehole. The boys’ junior hostels came in sight next, seated as the buildings were on a gentle slope, after which were acres of bushy farmlands that belonged to some of the school staff. We headed for the structure that belonged to Hope House. The entire hostel was noisy, filled with junior boys talking in raised voices and slamming locker doors and heckling one another. There was a bustle here that was lacking in the senior hostels. I instantly felt a wistful reminiscence of my more junior days.

Joseph, however, looked like a man on a mission. His eyes crawled over the faces of the boys milling around, as though he was searching for someone. We followed him from one dormitory to another, until he stopped short in the fourth dorm. He’d seen who he was looking for. A skinny boy with a wide forehead dressing his bed. There was something familiar to me about him as we followed Joseph to where he stood.

“Hey, junior boy,” he snapped.

The boy straightened and turned a puzzled look to us. “Yes?”

“You’re Daniel, right? Daniel Emecheta – Senior Moses’ brother, correct?” Joseph spat out the words as though to have to say them was a detestable task.

The boy stiffened, intuiting that his questioner was bad news. “N-n-no, I’m not.” The lie was a very bad one.

I could see why he seemed familiar to me earlier. Same big head. Same small eyes. Same sullen mouth.

“Don’t even bother lying to me,” Joseph seethed, stepping forward. The boy shrank back from him. “I know you are his brother. You people’s guardian’s house is next to my own guardian’s house. I saw the two of you there with your parents last visiting day. And I understand why he doesn’t want everybody to know he has a younger brother – because he’s a wicked prefect, abi? Well, I know his secret. I know you!” He jabbed a finger that came within inches of the other boy’s face. “He has finished flogging me today, and he’s feeling tech with himself, abi? No problem. Just know one thing, your brother has given you a serious enemy. A big enemy. Me!” His eyes were hot and he seemed to get angrier as he spoke. “Shebi when next term ends, he’ll graduate. When that happens, I will deal with you. Shebi you and me in this school, you go hear nwiii for my hand. Just wait. If you know what’s good for you, as your brother is graduating, just change school. You hear me? Better change school. Because if you venture come back to this school when I’m wearing trouser, your own for this school go don finish.” He snapped his fingers in Daniel’s terrified face to punctuate his threat, turned and stomped off.

“Are you mad, Joseph!” Ibuka screeched incredulously once we were out of the hostel.


“You’re asking me what. That was Senior Moses’ brother you just threatened. You threatened an SS3 boy’s brother when he’s still in this school. What if he reports to his brother all the things you just said?”

“I don’t care,” Joseph fumed.

“Joe, what you did is risky,” I intoned. “You could have waited until Senior Moses graduates before letting his brother know you are his enemy. If he reports you, Senior Moses can decide to make your life a living hell.”

“And we are just in second term,” Ibuka added, flapping his hands in exasperation. “Which means he has this term and next term to show you pepper.”

“Listen, the two of you!” Joseph barked, stopping to scowl at us. “I don’t care if that boy tells his brother everything I said to him. Whatever Moses Emecheta decides to do about what I just did, I’ll be waiting for him.”

He didn’t have to wait very long.

That night, at the close of night prep, as the three of us mingled with a handful of other classmates on the classroom verandah, someone greeted, “Good evening senior.”

The rest of us turned, and I felt my heart do a little hop when I saw Senior Moses standing at the edge of the pavement, his arms crossed, the fluorescent rays of our classroom lighting that pooled out onto the verandah not quite illuminating the deadpan expression on his face. Upon seeing him, everyone else started shuffling away, and eventually it was just the three of us standing there, under the intense stare of the prefect.

“You have guts, you know that,” he finally said as he advanced a few steps toward us. His eyes were on Joseph.

Joseph looked defiantly back at him.

“So after flogging you, the next thing you knew to do was to go and locate my brother and threaten him, telling him you will deal with him when I graduate, eh? My own brother, even when I’m still in this school. Fear no catch you.” He laughed softly while shaking his head. He sounded admiring of Joseph’s effrontery. “You know, when Danny told me about the things you said to him, he was crying and he was scared, and that got me very pissed. Honestly, had I seen you then, I would have beat thunder enter your body. But then, I had time to think. And I realized something.” All traces of mirth vanished from his countenance, and his tone became serious, solemn. “My brother is not going to change school, Joseph. And you will not maltreat him when you’re a senior. You know why? Because you and I, we are going to be friends from now on. If you ever need anything, or if anyone harasses you, you come and tell me and I’ll take care of it, is that okay?”

Joseph nodded slowly. He was unable to hide the surprise on his face at this turn of events.

“Anything – anything at all, just let me know. I’ll look out for you, and in return, you will look out for Danny when I’m gone. Deal?”

Joseph nodded again.

“The same goes for your friends.” He looked at me. “What’s your name?”


“And you?”


“You all heard what I said, right?”

Three heads went up and down in acquiescence.

“Okay then. See you boys later.” He turned and walked away into the night.

That was how we got a school-father without the prerequisite of *lanwu.

I am @Walt_Shakes on twitter

*lanwu: boarding school slang for the bribery given to a senior for protection against the tribulations of the boarding houseptg01636121

Leave a comment


  1. Getting more and more interesting..

  2. Cassie

     /  November 18, 2013

    Lol nice one Walter… This episode made me remember when I was threatened in secondary school too, I actually heeded the warning and left the school after my junior waec..

    • Hahahahaaa! Just like my younger brother. He was a very stubborn junior boy who was enjoying tнє protection of my fellow SS3 boys. SS2boys warned him. Aηd he begged my dad to change him from school upon my graduation. Luckily for him, my dad heeded his pleas. Enemiesssss were waiting for him. Lol

  3. Origami

     /  November 18, 2013

    This series just takes me back to Odogbolu..How is it that all slangs used in FGCs seem to almost be the same? Even as eras have gone by. Na wah…The horrors of being a junior student are immense but the perks of being senior, right from JS2, compensates for all that.

  4. Chinweike

     /  November 18, 2013

    Now that’s what I call a “diplomatic” ending. The best part about this series is how easily I can relate to most of the events, as I was a boarder myself back then. In all too similar circumstances as the one portrayed in this episode I got a school father myself. Great writing man, more grease…or whatever it is that powers you lol.

  5. Chinweike

     /  November 18, 2013

    Woah! I just scrolled up and realized this post is pretty long (in comparison to usual online series) and I didn’t even notice, very engaging. Great writing preludes easy reading, enough said.

  6. Yemie

     /  November 18, 2013

    This series is an indepth expose of a typical boarding school life in Nigeria. Its amazing how you capture events and the audience can just easily relate to one event or the other. So many nostalgic feelings are aroused reading this piece. You were simply born to do this. Thumbs up, Walter.

  7. pholy...

     /  November 18, 2013

    Me I had to leave with my bro o!..and am a girl..even my bro spoke to my parents that if they loved me they had better change my school and they did..lol

  8. Izuchukwu

     /  November 18, 2013

    This is the best part I have read so far. I cannot forget such experience in FGCE. I love this

  9. Excellency

     /  November 18, 2013

    Waltz! Nice, real nice! When I grow up, Waltz, I’ll like to write like you…

  10. elrombi

     /  November 18, 2013

    Who do we have here,…………another achebe?@ walter

  11. Nice touch, good story and wonderfuly told in such a way that will keep you on edge till the end. Well done. Walter.

  12. Nwukabu Danjuma

     /  November 18, 2013

    I am really enjoying this series. I went to boarding school too, but I cannot always relate to your stories on a personal level. This time sha I can. I remember in my JSS1, when continuing students resumed school, people were looking for the other JSS1 girl in my room whose sister had apparently been very wicked. The poor girl was new in the school and her sister had even graduated by then. They were telling her how they will deal with her and stuff. That was one of the few times I was like thank God I am the first born. No senior sibling to mess me up. The same thing happened to the labor prefect’s sister.

  13. toyinalabi

     /  November 18, 2013

    Lol…can’t stop laughing. Very funny

  14. Grace oruitemeka

     /  November 18, 2013

    Cnt stp laughing…y didnt anybdy dare me lyk dat na?? chai! Ibuka harsh sha…really loved Joe’s guts tew..
    Way 2go Walt..

  15. uzo

     /  November 18, 2013

    Wally has done it again, that ending didn’t expect it though

  16. anderson

     /  November 18, 2013

    Wallyman! Thumbs up. May thine ink never run dry.

  17. shomykolad

     /  November 19, 2013

    Oga Shakes you’re too good. You just make me feel like I should have attended a boarding school. I hope I will get to this height of writing soon. Totally interesting and inspiring! Tuale

  18. nife

     /  November 19, 2013

    Uu got me laughing out load. Genius!! Genius

  19. shammah

     /  November 19, 2013

    damn walt, this is d bomb. love it. dat danny boy 4 suffer tire!

  20. Melexa

     /  November 19, 2013

    Waltz! Wat happened fa? The last I read Eze was under one D fellow’s bunk; did I miss an episode?
    Ehen, that Joseph dude is cool raised to power 2. I love that fella. Nicely done my youngman. Your pen fascinates me. Big ups!

  21. Emmanuel Dan

     /  November 19, 2013

    Everything has its prize. Not the least is bravery. I salute Joe and look forward to reading about his senior years! His stand-stillness while “eating” the cane reminds me of having to absorb 72 strokes of the cane without tears and reported to school the next day while the teacher, the executor-in-chief was out for one week because he was unable to raise his right hand to write on the blackboard! No teacher ever agreed to flog me more than three strokes thereafter. Excellent story expertly told.

  22. …but @Walt_shakes can write sha!

    I didn’t attend a boarding house, many thanks to you I’m getting to know much, seeing lots of things…in 3D.

    Josephs are smart, at least most of us. *covers face* Often times fine too *winks* Bad belles will object now. 🙂

    Beautiful writing Mr Walter. More grease to your wrist, idea to your brain and charge to your laptop/device.

    Your “level of grace” I like. I want. 🙂

  23. Newton

     /  November 20, 2013

    Now Joe’s the man!
    You work hard Walter. Keep it up man.

  24. Sallie

     /  November 21, 2013

    BRAVO!!!! *slow clap*

  25. Joe is cool…
    Nice episode

  26. Adeline Kasper

     /  November 21, 2013

    Dis 1 is so interesting!

  27. sigh! i have made the mistake of reading all the episodes *wailing*… now i have to wait. 😦
    my fav episode is the “ibuka kissing” one. lmao!! .
    Great job Walter!!

  28. Nur'ayn

     /  November 23, 2013

    Finally, I’m up to date. I’ll be sitting at my window, looking out for the next episode to descend so I don’t miss it.
    I doff my hat and take a bow.
    **doffing my imaginary hat and bowing my head**

  29. Bisi

     /  November 24, 2013

    Interesting read. Couldn’t stop until here. Felt like I saw it all in a live movie. All pictures painted well in words. Thumbs up!

  30. Am in camp nd I cant bliv I read d whole series in one nyt!!! Irrespective of the fact that I wl wake up 4am,its rili nyc nd it brght bak nyc fggc omuaran memories,had to liv d skul tho,d threats were unbeareable. Thanx for d wryt up,rili md my nyt…

  31. Lol, I remember when I was chasing and I flogged two boys, they threatened my younger brother. When he told me, I asked his House Capt to send the boys to me, I flogged them very well the second time. Having a school mother too was another dicey biz, my friend Nosa had the dining hall prefect (girls) as school mother, after a senior (names withheld) tried and failed, Nosa was chopping constant flogging.

  32. Abikoye

     /  December 19, 2013

    what kind of school is this? the furtherance of bully #jeezuuus# i can’t believe this.

  33. Victoria

     /  January 17, 2014

    Oga walter, I doff my hat for u bro! U too much. Been a silent reader, ran away for a while and came back 2 update mysef. Dis episode ehn, I gas comment fa. Went 2 a full boarding girls only sch wiv nasty female snrs. Became one myself too, wasn’t so bad tho, I was fair, lol. Dis episode made me remember wen my younger sis was threatened, if I hear say she leave sch? She was one of dese untouchable juniors. Even snrs feared her for being very rude and unrepentant. Wen one of her snrs who was my own junior threatened 2 deal wiv her after my graduation, my sis replied “e ma mo wipe emi gan o gbadun” meaning “u go know say me sef noh well”. D snr never crossed her path. Lmao.
    Eze and his cohorts JƱڪτ̲̅ keep taking me down d memory lane.
    Great job walt. Pls don’t stop


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