Lemon Tree

Decades can be something else on their own. I was a brand new secondary school and dorm student in the mid '80s. That era made some of us with skeptical minds to start believing in what we read in ancient texts. In Nigeria that period in my eyes as a brand new teen secondary school student, that mid '80s were my ancient in reminiscent.

On gotten admission,I had came for registration with my Dad. The staff and administrative block was a stand alone building in form of rectangular mold that assaulted us first. It's demarcated inside into five places with cashier separate office, group staffroom stuffed with cheap tables and a tiny store room that is only accessible through the staffroom. All the documents requested from any student that ever crossed their part is stored on the any-how shelves placed on the side of the walls facing themselves. And then, the principal's office occupied the last room there. 

Its a plain looking building with cheap flowers that exist everywhere that era in Nigeria. Whistling flower and one other common one I don't even know what they call it in English. But I see it everywhere people with taste for flowers plant any. Adjacent to the administrative block is the field where tiny glory that ever crossed the part of that school that period exists.

Behind the administrative block is an open space that is equal in my estimation to the half of the field it's facing. And then, the classrooms. Same long rectangular building erected without any attachment of style to it and then, demarcated inside to serve as different levels of classrooms, lab, storeroom etc. That was also how they molded the other three buildings behind that first one. Rectangle without any aesthetic decoration in mind and then demarcations inside. Some demarcated larger than the others. Some were used as halls or spaces where machines no one ever used government supplied to all the technical schools in Nigeria that period were dumped.

Then, adjacent to those rectangular classroom is a space we use as a morning assembly ground. Rectangular form also if you use carpet grasses planted there as gauge. That is where the students, our numbers were about eight hundred that period. Infront of those grassed areas were the clean clay soiled ground where the teachers or any visitor that wants to address the students stand to do so. Behind such person, is a pole the Nigeria Green-White-Green flag hangs and flutters with dignity. I am not sure anyone still feels these days. That era?- it's there in all its majesty.

Then, after those rectangular buildings, there's another open space enough to meet the Fifa standard requirement. Where it terminates is another long rectangular building or rather open hall that serves as a dormitory. Beside it's another rectangular building used as a toilet with five or six rooms, each with its own separate holes to do your business in. Behind the dorm is our bathroom built in a rectangular form but without a roof over it. 

Beyond that bathroom is a wilderness that stretches to eternity meaning that we are situated half way in the land of the living and half in the middle of nowhere.

You might be wondering about kitchen and the dining hall, both are adjacent to the dorm. Just a minute walk from there. 

Those are what structured me decades back and many before and after me into what we are today. At times, in my attempt to compare then and now, my mind, spirit and soul always refers to that era as the good old days. I don't know whether they are biased or not but, certainly, that period is far better in many aspects. Even quality of youths and adults differs that period in comparison to the junks we have now. Maybe, youths of today will voice out such comparison of today and forty years time and conclude that today I am lamenting is their good old days. I at times believe that the good old days have something to do with youth and wealth. Many adults were complaining about that period too.

The landmass was wide and there was nothing like fence or barbed wire around it. It's just an open wilderness. I think that the founders of the institution in the late '70s decided that the knowledge to be gotten out of there and the chattering of the youths will turn that place into something positive. In my opinion, they got it right. Doctors, teachers, tax assessors, successful business men, writers, creators, architects, builders, surveyors passed through that wilderness to become what they were today. 

You need to see some of us living in that dorm then during the weekend the day students aren't around. Surrounded by thick forest left, right and back. Birds of every kind chirped and cooed like mad, we had not many choices but to turn to makeshift hunters. It was truly good old days at least to us the students. I was enjoying myself like hell then for sure. Squirrels and those other four leg animals that at times try to assert their rights as owners of the place are never out of sight but out of reach. I had no doubt that many of them were complaining about human encroachment as their ancestors did in Orwell's Animal kingdom. They see us as intruders trying to drive away the real owners like the European settlers did to the native Americans.

That period, my Dad must have been among the rich dads Even though it never crossed my mind how poor some families were then till last year i was going through some of my documents from that era. Hostel fee was 54 naira and most students couldn't afford it then. I at times wondered why someone would be running forwards and suddenly instead of halting on a place for any reason would be heading backwards like the Nigerian economy did. Hostel fees are now in their hundreds of thousands. But, our lack of attention to such issues did not prevent our seniors from focusing on them. The size of provisions items of most of us juniors speaks for itself and to many others. 

I was among those in high demand then. The tradition in the secondary school system was the system of every senior student picking up a junior that will serve him for a year and half before the system phased them out. Fetching water from the well immediately beyond the school gate, washing plates and at times clothes. So, about three of those poor senior guys were lining up behind me.

I was anything goes kind of human that period. But what 'goes' most in my life then was football. I was healthy, equal to any task. But those seniors had other ideas. They were worrying about future after education. Financial help from their godson's parents to set themselves up in business. 

  Like i hinted, the only known glory that came to the school then was through sports. Football and I were among the key players that brought that glory to my first year there. We even got to the finals of the state secondary schools game competition in soccer before being knocked out. 

I am supposed to possess certain psychic abilities. I used to get most of our football matches' results correct before we played them, and I seemed to know the outcome of certain things before they even happened. That was how my fellow teammates, classmates, dorm mates and even teachers started seeing me as a seer of some sort.

On many occasions, I just open my mouth to voice out certain scores before some matches and to my surprises too, many of my predictions always come true. That status brings with it respect that is disorienting at times. Unnecessary attention brings at times unnecessary headaches.

 Seniors and Juniors always cornering me with one tale or another hoping that you will tell them how to beat nature can be stressing at times. "hem! Philip, how are you today" and then, it's a lengthy family, village or personal tales that will cover tiny island nation like Christmas Island and then hopefully eyeing me for magic can be tiring most of the time.

I will supply casual answers. I am beginning now to understand why most of it came to pass. It's listening to my Dad and his colleagues talk and how they render those advices. The route my age mates will take if left alone, their choice is always its opposite. So telling those guys the opposite of what they wanted to hear always does the magic. They keep flocking like flies and like the youth I was, I kind of enjoy the prestige and the attention many times. The flattering is good at times. During night preps in the classroom, away from the prying eyes of our seniors, most will gather around me instead of reading their books. They will gather around me like a consultant on a free call for me to tell them solutions to their problems. It can be hilarious at times.

Humans are funny animals. You can not believe what some can vomite to you when desperate. I once overheard one vomiting to his friend on his family helplessness on the hand of their wealthy neighbor trying to snatch their land by force from them. "He even bribes the police to come and pick my father up for hours, at times a day even" He was lamenting to his friend whose reply was just snickering. 

I eyed them and stopped the note I was copying. Cleared my throat noisily just to attract their attention while pretending to be focused on the note I was copying. Without raising my eyes or stopping what I was doing, I asked "That land in question, is there anything like a lemon tree in it?" The guy whirl around like modern robots and jumped from his seat to the one near me "ye...ye ..yes" the first time I heard stammering coming from him. "If you and your family can dig a fifteen feets deep hole on the right side of that lemon tree, you will see a wooden box buried around late 18th century there. The content of that box will make you and your family six times richer than that fellow disturbing your dad. Just about two feets away from that lemon tree" The poor helpless boy mouth nearly fell out. It's hanging open throughout the duration i was voicing those useless words out. I can even swear I heard his heartbeat. When he finally recovered, what I heard was a half-throated smirk coming from two eyes fixed on my face with dead seriousness I have seen from few others before. He wanted to know if I was pulling his legs.

I continued copying my note. He drew his chairs an inch closer and some others followed him in inching closer to their seer. For the duration of that night prep, learning ended for almost all of them. Questions were being thrown my way from here and there, that certain ideas started crossing my mind. Some with no business near the town John came from were asking intimate questions on the exact locations and about this and that. I felt the chill run down my spine. 

John has started suspecting what i was suspecting too. That was Tuesday night and if you had any plan of going home on friday, you needed to submit your exit card to the dorm master with reasons you wanted to travel on Wednesday. If granted, you go home on Friday after school hours. If not, no show for you. Some started dusting their exit cards from the bottom of their boxes and wherever they dump them that night waiting for Friday but some others have other ideas that pass legality, regulation, rules and formalities. 

The following day, some submitted their exit cards with all manners of excuses while some hardened ones followed some day students and crossed what served as the gate and the security man manning it. Back in the dorm after school, about six students were missing and the security man reported seeing them without bags, without books as they passed him with others joking during the break. He had never seen anyone, including the day students passed there without a single book or bag in hand, so he had thought they were on errand for one teacher or something. 

While John had at least a day and half to go, some had that same day ahead of him. He started getting worried as realization of what might be happening occurred to him. He contemplated absconding from classes tomorrow like those even though he had been granted Friday permit for delay can be late.

He rushed to me all worried that Wednesday night during the night prep for assurance he was being paranoid on those six students and why they went home without permission. "I can't conjure anything and nothing is being revealed" was my answer which heightened his anxiety. That wednesday night in the dorm, his usual soundless sleep was something else. His breathing was labored. He never snored, but that night, his corner mates kept waking him up, believing his neck wasn't straight hence his snoring. But, nothing was wrong with his necks.

Come Friday, John went home in a hurry from the classroom. The normal practice was to leave after an afternoon meal before siesta. On getting near to their compound, he first branched to the lemon farm and nearly collapsed. Tears streaming down his cheeks. The hole he saw on the right side of the lemon tree wasn't fifteenth feet deep. From where he was standing on its edge, it's about twenty. The upturned earth was still pure red heaped haphazardly. 

He did his mental calculation and sat on the heaped earth, tears dropping from his cheeks freely. Someone alerted his parents and they rushed out to take him inside. That evening, he narrated all that the seer in their school told him and people he was suspecting did the digging. His parents were all ears. Half of their maturity is telling them that the seer which happened to be me was pulling his legs and the other half wanted by all means to believe his story. The mother was the one that handed it all to God. His father thought better of what was overpowering him and decided that calming his boy was the first sensible thing to do. He concurred with his wife and waved that line of truth being in it away. He told his boy that they thought it was their neighbor that hired thugs to dig that big hole intending to push them inside there in the night for the digging took place by midnight with sound of occasional banger being released. His tale from the school calmed their spirit down more. That digging took place Thursday night and Friday,they were hearing a different story, their heart had been in their mouths wondering what was in the mind of their neighbor who was behaving as if he was surprised and had been observing them too.  

John returned to the dormitory that Sunday evening, saw the six boys that absconded on wednesday and they were eyeing him to narrate his part of the near lemon tree digging and ancient box. He ignored their greeting, and cornering few friends and asked them what the six excuses had been. They had left claiming that they intended to return within minutes only for one to engage in a group fight that got officers involved and they slept two nights in the police cell before officers knew who they were and released them. "Did anyone check out their story?" Was what John so bitterly asked as he sighed loudly at that bullshit tale. He has concluded in his mind to follow up their story with the disciplinarian master. He believed that they made away with the ancient box and the six were all ears to hear that he saw inside the box. "Maybe, we dug at the wrong place" was what kept crossing their mind, that John located the box. But nothing but scorn had been his portion to them. 

With both red in the wrong places on their faces, John was first to enquire from me again that sunday night in his eagerness to know where they hid the box and what the content was, he totally believed that they took the box away and hid it somewhere else waiting for the right time to make a move. They on their part consulted to know if John found the box and what the content was? 

Fresh from their families or stations, I decided to let them know that talking and contacting spirits and our forefathers makes one thirsty. I need coke cola at time to quench my taste. I was given Limca which is far better than nothing. Those guys weren't learning lessons. They still circle each night in their numbers wanting to know how to hammer nature into obedience and be two steps ahead of it. 

Reputation is what I still found is hard to do away with once it formed. Diggers jamboree was not teaching both camps any lesson, instead, it piqued their curiosity and brought out the animal in them. Maybe the absconding six needed my urging to go knock down the parents of their classmate or kidnap them for ransom. That was urging that didn't come from me. 

Do they really think that if they open their mouths five times in a day, five days a week that they will not hit the bulls eyes half the time? Some above my set started joining them each night to know one thing or the other. Some still poking on the six to know if they were playing them.