The year is 2003, the year in which I would turn eighteen and one in which everything seems to be going awry in my life. I had been out of secondary school for almost two years and the end to the struggle to get into University was hardly in sight thanks to the barriers from JAMB/UME and Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, an institution that had somehow by fate or design chosen to refuse me admission for two straight years in spite of my beating the so-called cut-off marks for my chosen course of study. Somehow, getting into O.A.U had become to me like the biblical Promised Land to Moses and as much as I tried getting in, it appeared as though I was never destined to get in and maybe I really wasn’t as I often wonder today.
The major issue I had then was not the fact that I was being delayed in securing a University admission rather it was the attendant feelings of being at home that gave me the pricks. You know that feeling when you begin to feel like you’re gradually becoming a pest and unwanted where you are; that time when everyone begins to ask you questions like; “When are you resuming school? What course are you studying now? What school are you now?” and the likes. Man, those questions practically drove nails through my feet. People around just seemed to want to constantly rub in that fact that you’re not where you should be and you want to hate them for it. In fact, more than anyone else, you hate yourself for it. Yeah, that was the feeling and it became worse as 2003 came.
I needed to get out fast. At the time, I was with Mom in Ondo State and it sure wasn’t fun anymore; unlike when I had just left secondary school almost two years before. It had felt great to be out of that hellhole called a ‘boarding school’ and I spent the first year driving around in mom’s new car and impressing everyone I could that I was a sixteen year old boy who could drive. Now, it had all become boredom and I needed to disappear, especially because most of my peers seemed to be gaining admission into Universities and Polytechnics and here I was driving around like some loser! I had only one option for my destination – Lekki, Lagos, where my Dad lived. The thought of changing my environment was welcome but the first headache I felt stemmed from the fact that I was going to stay with my dad and his new wife, Cyan.
Chief (my dad) had given my brothers and I the shocker of our lives about a year and half before when he had suddenly remarried. At first, it had seemed like the biggest joke of the century. The ‘chief’ that I had known all my life hardly seemed like the kind of man who could settle down again, not after staying single for almost seven years after he and Mom parted ways. They had separated in April 1994 for reasons I’d not like to dwell on (After all, this series is about me, not them. lol). At the time, I was almost nine, Beedee was twelve and Shawn was seven.
My mom and dad had remained single at their respective ends all the while until my old man suddenly decided to get married and actually did in November 2001 when I was already sixteen and you can determine my brothers’ ages if you will. Now, that pill was pretty hard to swallow but we managed to swallow it without choking and got on with our lives, spending most of the time at Mom’s, much to Dad’s chagrin. Chief hated the fact that the three of us practically abandoned him and he made this clear. I often wondered how he expected us to feel comfortable with such an impromptu decision to get married again without our consent (or at least notification). Chief was glad I was moving back to his place but for me, it was a rather difficult decision and I decided I would stay just long enough to get over my boredom. Well, I actually did move back to Lagos and there was so much in stock for me.
SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF GEEBEE’S TRIP.
This post was first published here