Dread in my heart. Fear in my bones. Don’t know what to do. Maybe i’ll pray for a glimmer of hope

SUMMARY : DRAGGED FROM THE QUIET VILLAGE IN OSUN STATE, OLA SURVIVES AN AMBUSH WITH THE HELP OF HIS UNWILLING BODYGUARD MALAOZI WHO THEN USES A JEEP TO RACE TO  THE CHURCH OF SAINTS IN MARINA LAGOS TO ATTEND THE FUNERAL OF OLA’S FATHER. OVERCOMING HURDLES (TRAFFIC, POLICE, SECURITY…) OLA MAKES IT TO THE CASKET OF HIS FATHER ONLY TO FIND IT EMPTY. NOW HE SITS WITHIN A CONFESSION BOX, A SOBBING PRIEST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DIVIDE.

HIDDEN DARKNESS CH 15

The soothing dimness within the confession box did not bring to Ore the usual comfort he had grown accustomed to. Signs of moisture could be seen on his priestly robes, his face still carrying track lines leading to their source. With effort he muffled his sobs. Sadly this was not the first time these lifeless wooden walls would hear his cry. It had become his sanctuary within the oppressive walls rising high around him. The box had been soundproofed years ago, confessions being between a man, his maker and his priest. A sacred trust spanning centuries, seemingly unbroken. He struggled to silence his weeping, a little voice whispering to him he was never truly alone. There weren’t many parishioners who stepped within the confines of the box these days, a detail Ore was thankful for. Till date he had been spared the ordeal of being discovered, luck which was coming to an end.

Cathedral Church of Saints had not been the sanctuary Ore had hoped for, a harsh truth he struggled to come to terms with. When he had gotten his posting here, there had been a glimmer of hope in his heart it would be different from the seminary. How sorely he had been mistaken Life dropping him into the clutches of the oppressive was nothing new to Ore. In search of solace his thoughts were swept into the past

Born premature, he had spent his childhood as the smallest among his peers. Children can be cruel and Ore always managed to find himself among the worst of the litter. Being pint sized should not have been enough to make him the constant target of their mean spirited play and it wasn’t. What sealed his fate was his luck, brilliance and stunning features. The Creator had given him too much. Ore could not understand it at first. He only began to get an inkling when he had transferred to a new school in primary three. The first day had began with signs pointing to hopeful. No one knew him here. It was a new start. The class walls were covered with brightly colored drawings and projects. Most of the drawings seemed to be of the teacher currently standing beside him but Ore didn’t give it too much thought. Introducing himself had not gone well, the intense gazes from everyone having a compounding effect, causing him to forget his name. Luckily he was rescued by his teacher.

“This is Ore, he will be your classmate from now on, make sure you take care of him.”

When she addressed the class, her voice had the sharpness and no nonsense attitude of a danfo conductor asking for his money from passengers. Turning to Ore she pinched his cheeks.

“Soo cute… You can sit anywhere you like.”

“Thank you miss Ihuoma. You are very pretty like my mom.”

She was and she knew it. A life of being told how beautiful she was had numbed her to the praise. Male teachers in the school had a nickname for her that she was not aware of but she would have to be a corpse to not notice their gazes and advances. Ihuoma was surprised at the giggle that escaped her lips and the blush creeping up her cheeks from the words of this little child. Confused at the reaction of her body, she gave Ore a gentle push and went to her desk so she could focus on composing herself. Ore stepped on unsteady feet. Afraid to look at the faces of his classmates, he stared at the floor while he walked; making his search for an empty seat more difficult than it should be. It was a good thing he kept his head down or he would have seen some ugly stares directed at him.

It had not gone unnoticed by the class that miss Ihuoma had used a sweet voice when she talked to Ore. They only heard that tone when she was on the phone. Who she was talking to at those times, the children did not know. Unlike other teachers, miss Ihuoma did not have any favorites in her class. It was not enough to stop her students from trying, especially the boys. A fierce war was waged, their weapons being helpfulness, thoughtfulness and ‘parent bought’ gifts. Alas, their efforts bore no fruit; but since there was no chosen one, her class remained the only one in the school that did not have to deal with jealousy or tyranny within its ranks. Ore’s existence was an open candle held to turn on a petrol generator. It set this fragile ecosystem ablaze.

The first leg that tripped Ore was written off as the fault of his clumsy nature. He quickly apologized as he moved on. The next leg nearly sent him sprawling to the floor. Still, Ore apologized once again and kept walking eyes glued to the brightly tiled ground. A hand slapped his back, the pain bringing tears to his eyes and a whimper to his lips. He did not dare turn around to identify his tormentor, taking solace in finally reaching the back of the class and finding an empty desk. Dragging his stinging back into it, he hid his face using his arm and the surface of the marked desk.

“Put your books away and bring out your pencil for a short quiz.”

A groan spread through the class as they complied. A long thin tree branch struck the blackboard swiftly silencing the growing groans. Everyone could not look away from the cane miss Ihuoma held in her hand. There weren’t many who had tasted its sting but those who had were not shy when it came to sharing the terrible experience. They had called the cane ‘beauty’s beast’ though they would never say that in front of her.

“Ten questions. Those who score the highest won’t be given any strokes. For each point you score lower than the highest you will receive a stroke.”

The intelligent among them couldn’t help but do the math. A possibility of ten strokes. A shiver went round. Those who were at the top of the class weren’t worried. No one got more than a 7 on miss Ihuoma’s test and the first two questions were as easy as writing your name. It was a rare sight for even the worst of the students to get  more than 4 strokes.

“Don’t turn it over until I say start.”

Threading her way between the rows, miss Ihuoma distributed the test questions, her cane still in hand giving incentive to all to do their best.

“Ore don’t worry since you are new you don’t have to take the test.”

Every head turned at miss Ihuoma’s words, their target a little boy who wished he was a little smaller so he could disappear into his desk. There were a wide range of expressions directed at Ore. For the most part the boys seemed to wish to eat him along with their school lunches in boxes painted with superheros and cartoon characters. Those who did not want to eat him were the girls in the class but they could do nothing but share the pity in their eyes. Sensing the danger in his predicament Ore reached out, managing to grab the skirt of miss Ihuoma.

“I don’t mind taking the test.”

“Such a brave little boy. Class you should learn to be more like Ore.”

Later in life Ore would wonder if his teacher was intentionally trying to get him killed. At that young age he did not have such thoughts. With a smile she handed him the test. Many in the class were excited Ore did not take up the offer to skip the test. They couldn’t wait for the satisfaction of watching the teacher having to tan his hide.

“Don’t stress yourself too much, just do your best. We all know it’s your first day.”

As soon as miss Ihuoma had her back to Ore, an eraser struck him on the head. Through the aisle she sauntered unaware, behind her more erasers flying, most missing their mark but the few that hit passing across their message clearly. Ore could do nothing but hide his head beneath his arms. The rain soon ended, makeshift army running out of ammunition playing a part but more importantly miss Ihuoma now watched the class intently.

“You have fifteen minutes. Start! Raise your hand when you are done”

Everyone forgot their victim for a time as they focused on the paper before them. With the barrage at an end, Ore held back the tears that threatened to fall. It was not easy but somehow he managed. Turning his questions over, he too began.

Ten minutes later a hand rose above the students bent over their desk. Miss Ihuoma looked up surprised. No one ever had enough time to finish any of her test. The last three questions were set up to be above the level the class could handle. Technically getting a 7 out of 10 was an A. The last three questions were merely there to challenge them. Not wanting to disturb the other students she walked over and crouched beside the student.

With her hair so close to him, Ore could smell the fruity scent of her shampoo. Its mildly sweet scent transported him for a time from the reality around him.

“Are you sure you are done?”

Her voice, matching the sweetness of her shampoo woke him.

“Yes, I am.”

“What about proofreading?”

“I have.”

“Very good child. You can sit quietly here so the others can finish.”

“I will.”

“You don’t need to bring so many erasers to class. Pick them up while you wait since I’ve collected your test.”

Ihuoma smiled when she noticed the erasers scattered around Ore. She assumed he had spilled them in a nervous fit when he saw the test. He could not get out of his seat since the test was still ongoing. Confused, Ore was about to tell her it wasn’t his but a small voice whispered to him it wasn’t a good idea. He listened. Getting out of his seat he quietly picked up the erasers unaware of the surprise written all over miss Ihuoma’s features as she sat at her desk grading his paper .

“Pencils up!”

Fifteen minutes had gone by too quickly for almost everyone in the class. Those who knew their own limited capabilities mentally prepared themselves for the lashes they knew would be unavoidable. As miss Ihuoma went round picking up papers, some smiled with confidence while others looked intensely at their desk. A few pencils were broken in a fit, the thoughts of their owners self evident. A few veterans in the flogged department already began padding their school uniform with cushion.

Gathering all the papers together Ihuoma quickly graded them all, the class watching her nervously, Ore forgotten as they awaited their fate. There weren’t many in the class. Done she began publicly reading the names of each student and their score.

“Aliyu 7 over 10. Good job.”

In the front of the class a boy beamed brightly. He sat in the most coveted seat, the first desk in the middle of the class facing miss Ihuoma’s desk directly. Aliyu was always closest to miss Ihuoma when she sat down. Due to this proximity he was most often called to perform tasks for her. Everyone understood it was due to convenience. He had not always been seating at that highly sought after seat. Desks could be traded within miss Ihuoma’s class but both sides had to be in agreement. No one knew what Aliyu had offered to gain that seat but most suspected it had to be substantial. The girl he traded with was currently seated beside Ore.

“Chioma 7 over 10 good, Amaka 7, Chibuzo 7, Bimbo 7, Femi 6…”

Femi was the first score that did not match the seven’s that had been previously called. His head fell to his hands, memories of how the cane struck the board still fresh in his mind. Those around him who already had their grade announced gazed at their fallen comrade with sympathy, whispering to him it was only one stroke. Those who were waiting for their scores hoped they wouldn’t be subjected to the same bleak outlook. Still there were others who looked at him with envy knowing their score would never be seven, hoping they would be as lucky as him to get six.

More names and scores were called out, the lowest being a 4 so far and that was by the classes officially recognized idiot. No one expected anyone to get below the class idiot, though more than a few hoped Ore would . More than half the class had scored a seven this time around which was quite good. There were already congratulations going round as well as comfort to those who would be experiencing bitterness soon. It was during this period Aliyu noticed there was one name missing. Raising his hand, he didn’t wait for her to call him.

“Teacher what about Ore’s score?”

The class realized she hadn’t called out his score. Many of the boys in the class suppressed their delight. For the teacher to try to push his score aside it must have been really bad. A few quietly praised Aliyu for bringing it up.

“Thank you Aliyu, I had forgotten. He finished before all of you so I set his paper aside. Ore got 10 out of 10.”

A deadly silence swept across the class. A few thought they heard incorrectly, others thought she must be joking. A few went as far as thinking miss Ihuoma was cheating. It was the first time anyone had gotten all miss Ihuoma’s questions correct. It was not a kept secret in the school the difficulty of her tests. The one to receive the most shock was Aliyu who had reminded the teacher.

“That can’t be right…”

“Can’t be right? Aliyu what are you saying.”

“Nothing teacher, I thought I heard you say 11. I’m sorry.”

“If it was 11 would you not be receiving 4 strokes. You should be happy it’s 10. The boys should come out first.”

It was then the class remembered what it truly meant for Ore to get such a score. No one would be escaping the cane today except for one new kid that no one really knew. Everyone burned with emotion, each ones target the same. There was nowhere for Ore to run too. To think his first day would turn out to be so. He had transferred to this school due to unfortunate events in his last school but never would he have thought within 24 hours he would be enveloped by a cloud of red and black.

As each boy took his strokes, their eyes bore fiercely into Ore who sat there with his head buried in his desk in a futile attempt to hide. He was the only boy still sitting down. The few girls around did not view him favorably either as they waited for their turn to be caned. Miss Ijuoma was efficient, her strokes landing with precision, the flick of her wrist willowy and supple, bringing out the most from each swing. Every boy sat down gingerly, thoughts of retribution at the forefront of their minds.

“Girls come out.”

There were no gender bias in her class. The girls filed out, some already crying before they had even had a taste of the wood the teacher held. Ore still had his head buried in his desk, afraid to look up. A voice whispered to him to get up and open his mouth. The voice didn’t talk to him often but Ore had noticed if he didn’t do what it whispered things usually tended to become worse. Gathering together the little courage he had scattered around his spirit, he rose from his chair.

“Teacher.”

It was barely audible, but it floated above the tears and whimpers in the class. Surprised to see Ore standing, miss Ihuoma stopped the cane mid swing, the first girl she was to lash almost collapsing even though she had yet to receive the first bite of the wooden stick.

“Yes Ore?”

“Would it be possible not to flog the girls since it’s my first day? Or I could take it for them since it is my fault.”

Another shock made its round, the class in disbelief at this little boys request. Though there weren’t as many girls in the class as boys, this would easily mean at least 15 lashes. Bravery or stupidity they couldn’t quite be sure.

“What a gentleman, you’ll make a girl lucky one day. Girls say thank you to Ore and go back to your seats.”

“Thank you Ore!”

The gratitude shining in their eyes could not be faked as their words echoed in the class room. Ore barely remembered the looks the girls gave him, what was forever stamped in his mind was the dagger stares the boys leveled on him. So began again the hell he thought he had escaped.

Within the sacred box, through the tears, Ore’s mind had returned unbidden to the past. There it remained, flipping the pages till words floated through the iron grate that was the passage connecting sinner and priest, dragging him from the annals of his past.

“Father forgive me for I am about to sin… a lot.”

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