By Tinzwei THE first day of school is a moment to cherish. In the morning, each pupil wakes up early and puts on an oversized, fres...
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By Tinzwei
THE first
day of school is a moment to cherish. In the morning, each pupil wakes up early
and puts on an oversized, fresh uniform, ready for the initial step into a new
life. Expectations are high on this momentous occasion.
“You must
study hard if you want to become successful. You must behave to become good
citizens,” the teachers encouraged the new recruits.
But, each
year, the pupils were surprised when the teachers embarked on protests and did
not go to school to teach, and the pupils missed lessons. The pupils asked: How
can there be success if the teachers never pitch for lessons?
The teachers
replied: “It is a bread-and-butter issue. Yah, the bread and butter that you
are carrying in your lunch box, that’s what we are fighting for.”
“But how can
people fight for bread and butter?” the pupils wondered. Soon, it was time to
establish friends, and lives and classes were normal, until one pupil, many
wanted to forget quickly, came into their lives.
It was at
the fish pond that the mischief unfolded. They were behaving like other normal
children, misbehaving. Then this anonymous child pushed someone into the water.
Everyone was frightened that he would drown and they screamed for help. The
child burst out laughing, cruelly, as if the incident was a triumph.
“That’s what
you get for fishing in a prohibited area. Next time you should be more
careful,” came the cunning caution.
So, he had
the courage to stop everyone from disobedience. Who was he? Sadly, it didn’t
stop there. The next day, he demanded their food and threatened retribution if
they did not concede. They did. From then on, they had an enemy. And it got
worse.
They all
loathed break time because of him and wished he would go elsewhere. But he
never did. He was the first to arrive and the last to depart. He came from a
steady background, so few suspected him. Worse still, none ever believed he
could be so mean, except his victims.
No matter
how they told of his cruelty, everyone dismissed them as sissies and whiners.
The last thing they needed was to be called a sissy, so they continued with
their miserable lives. Each
morning, they left home for school expecting another struggle. As predicted,
they found him by the entrance, waiting to torment them as usual. The gates
were locked, and there was nowhere to run.
“So what did
you bring me, my little friends?”
He would
address them as little, as if he was a grown man. All quivering in their
outsized uniforms, some wet their pants even before school commenced and the
teasing would get worse.
Their lives
became miserable and they hated school. He continued to pillage their resources
at will and there was no one to stop or caution him.
Unknown to
all, a friend had other ideas, but never divulged them. He had always been like
that, a quiet fellow who had his own way of addressing challenges.
They had
become acquaintances by coincidence. In fact, no one ever wanted to become
friends with him, but situations like this required collaboration.
“I have a
way to deal with him,” he suggested. The next day, he took a knife to school.
Yes, a real okapi knife. “Today I will slice him, like the bread he snatches
from us, if he tries anything stupid,” the friend declared. They all thought he
was joking, until the bully was running for his life, the friend in pursuit.
There was laughter, but no one told the teachers.
And they thought it was a
victory.
How wrong.
It was the beginning of turf wars that would end with innocent deaths. The next
day, the bully recruited his own gang and declared revenge on whoever defied
his orders. And he meant it. The battalion numbered 10 and they all carried
bigger and sharper knives.
The harassing became consistent. Now there was a
real reason to loath school. It all came to pass in a moment of madness, or was
it heroism? The friend, alone, decided enough was enough. After school, he
suddenly grabbed the gang leader by the throat and wrestled him to the ground.
He was a small fellow, so he tumbled down hard, head first. Everyone ran for
cover. The friend punched the poor bully into submission in no time. It was
horrific. None had known that a human could produce so much blood in one fight.
Without
warning, a gang member came from behind and stabbed the friend once, twice,
three times — they lost
count. He collapsed in a heap and the gang pounced on him. Pupils fled.
The next
assembly brought the expectant sad news. The friend had died from his stab
wounds. They all knew who had done it and started it, but no one wanted to
tell.
Another day
passed and more sad news. The bully had committed suicide in his grandparents’
home. School was suspended for days as they mourned. Pupils
trooped to the bully’s homestead to convey their condolences. The
grandmother, frail from lament, said she never imagined something like this
would happen to her only grandson.
Undeterred,
the gang regrouped and recruited more members.
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