The Day She Touched

The Day She Touched

There was nothing unusual about that Saturday. The birds sang harmoniously in the branches of the mango trees, the way they always did; junior girls with torn sandals and slippers gathered around the shoemaker who came to campus once a week; girls gossiped while waiting for the hairdressers to make their hair; at the bottom of the hill, some girls bought snacks from the convenience store; even the kulusors still walked backwards and made perfect round holes in the dusty sand. I sat alone on a bench in the middle of all these people, under one of the cashew trees, meditating the way dad taught me to on the Math, Physics, and Chemistry I’d just finished studying in my class for the past two hours. Occasionally I lost focus and my mind wandered. I felt my throat and tongue get wet when I thought of my mom’s Jellof rice and chicken. At other times I was distracted by the three JSS 1 girls who played ten ten a stone throw away from me. I wondered how two of the girls managed to fall far behind the leader –a thin girl, who wore a severely oversized pink checkered dress and had a protruded back skull (ogo) — despite her obvious left leg, left leg, and right leg pattern.

I closed my eyes and tried to return to my mediation, but the noise from their loudly clapped hands and vigorously stomped feet hindered me from doing so. I sat up on the bench and after 5 minutes of contemplation, I walked back to my class, envious of the other girls who could afford to spend their weekends however they pleased.

I used to have that privilege until the end of last term when I went home with a report that showed I failed my Math, Chemistry, Physics, and Biology classes. And for the first time, I wasn’t positioned in the top twenty out of the 60 girls in my class. My father was furious. He said I needed to excel in those classes if I ever wanted to fulfill his dream for me to become an engineer. He hired a private tutor for me and together we studied every day of the week from 10 am till 2pm throughout my holiday. My father also contacted all my teachers at school and he concluded from those discussions that I needed to study more. So he ordered me to study more when I returned to school, never mind that I already spent the compulsory Monday-Friday afternoon and evening preps studying.

My classroom was a square room with open and missing louvers on two opposite sides that extended from the middle of the wall all the way to the ceiling and spanned the length of the wall. The other two walls at the front and the back of the class had huge blackboards. There was one ceiling fan at the center and beneath it were 30 neatly arranged desks and chairs for the 60 girls in the class. I sat at the back of the class, on the last desk furthest from the door.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Yinka laughed, then placed two cold bottles of mineral on my desk. I was surprised to find her in my classroom. I’d been so engrossed in my chemistry textbook and note taking that I failed to notice when she walked in, and now she sat on the desk directly in front of me with her legs resting comfortably on the chair. Yinka was a senior girl in SS3 and two years older than I was. But because of a school tradition that required everyone to refer to anyone two grades ahead of themselves as aunty, I called her Aunty Yinka.

“I bought you something from the convenience store,” she added, pushing a bottle of Miranda towards me and handing me a packet of Gala.

I felt discomforted by the situation, because it went against the established school code which allowed senior girls to treat anyone below their grade level as they wished and that included possessions as well. Aunty Yinka could very well take my textbooks and pocket money if she wanted to. She was also permitted to send me on any errand she wanted to. In fact that was how I’d met her. The first time she spoke to me was on the second Saturday of the term, the day she sent me to the convenience store to buy her a bottle of Pepsi and biscuit. She asked me to keep the change when I returned. We started waving “hi” to each other after that day even though she continued to send me on many errands. A month later, she asked me what my name was and where I lived. I was surprised the day she informed me of how much she disliked studying, but was forced to since her father expected a stellar academic performance from her and insisted that she became a doctor. That was also the day I told her of my dad and his expectations for me. Eventually, we started smiling at each other whenever we greeted, another anomaly for a senior girl at my school.

But nothing about Aunty Yinka had ever been normal. She, just like me, was usually the only one studying in her classroom, which was two classrooms away from mine, on Saturdays. She was also renowned for winning the all the prizes for academic excellence every year since her freshman year. Despite her devotion to her studies, she was popular on campus for her partying and cute face.

“I wonder how much you’ll study when you have to take the SSCE and Jamb like me,” she said, grabbing my pen from my hand. “You’re just in SS1. You need to relax and take a break. If you want your pen you’ll have to take it from me.”

She dangled it in front of my face, but each time I tried to snatch it from her, she pulled it away quickly. She did this repeatedly and soon we were laughing away at my futile attempts. I ended up chasing her around the classroom trying to get my pen back. I grabbed it and tried to run back to my seat, but before I made it there, she’d grabbed it again. This led to a small game of “pen tag.”

I don’t recall what happened next, but a few minutes later I was in Aunty Yinka’s embrace. I felt a meandering hand gently squeeze my breasts. The meandering hand was followed by meandering lips that strategically kissed my neck and eventually my lips. Later I felt the meandering hand grab my hands and place them on her breasts.

I averted my anxious and shy gaze away from hers. I didn’t know what to do, but Aunty Yinka didn’t mind. We both laughed and carried on fully aware of the pleasure we experienced and the risk and repercussions of our action.

That was the start of our secret Saturday relationship that was forced to end only when Yinka graduated the next term.

52 thoughts on “The Day She Touched” by Prism of an Immigrant (@prismofimmigrant)

  1. This is quite lovely. Simple and sweet. Your prose is very easy to relate to. A lot of NS members like that. You told it well too. But has it really ended because I had expected some kinda twist or new beginning. Very good one though.

    1. Thanks :). Yes o, it has ended… no twists or new beginning, well at least for now.

  2. Please, tell me this is not the end. It can’t be. The story has way too much potential. This is really good, and I hope to read more. Hope I’m not ‘jonesing’ sha. Lol.

    1. At this point you might be o, but thanks for the compliment.

  3. THIS IS GOOOD! everyone gotta see this. it MUST NOT be the end o!
    you brought memories of childhood with your KULUSO, TEN_TEN and OGO…
    NOTE: you kinda used the personal pronoun too many times for me.. maybe conjunctions could eliminate some like in the following excerpt
    I sat up on the bench and after 5 minutes of contemplation, I[AND] walked back to my class, envious of the other girls who could afford to spend their weekends however they pleased.
    ME could also help…all the same, its a nice piece

    1. Good observation. I read it through again and I saw other places where I have phrased the sentences differently to avoid the repetition. Thanks :)

  4. This is a beautiful story..I kind of had the idea of how it was going by the time you introduced ‘aunty Yinka’…Thank goodness i didn’t go to a an all girls school oh! God knows i had the potential for lesbianism! lol..this isn’t the end is it? don’t let it be abeg..its got too much potential!

    1. LOL @ your potential for lesbianism. Like other people I’m curious as to what that potential is… :D For now this is the end of the story.

  5. Gals and guys in the NS hacienda, if d story end here o, fine. If e no end here o, fine as well, biko!!! Dis part one, part two thing dey tire me abeg!!! :( The thing I loved about this story was the twist in the end. It was good, well-written, truly arrested my attention. I said to myself: Finally, this is a somewhat true depiction of homosexuality, at the roots. ‘Homosexuality’ in a strange kinda way encircles my family. This piece took me straight to one of my junior half-sisters and her days at junior and senior secondary school in an all-girls’ school, and also another junior half-brother of mine during his days in all boys’ school as well. Jesus, I have been looking for a way to pen down the issue of homosexuality in the same creative way the issue of heterosexuality is also penned down. I thank you, Prism of an Immigrant, for showing me how. Muchios, muchios, muchios gratias, amigo!!! This is one story that may start it off for me. And also, I need to read more of stories like this.

    I ditto @xikay on the issue of tenses, even though I really didn’t notice them. It means a second draft of this short story is required. Lovely writing, Prism-of-an-Immigrant!!

    1. Thanks for the compliment. My same-sex high school was the inspiration for the story. We had a lot of lesbianism going on. I’ll like to read your depiction of homosexuality.

  6. a nice story you got here ,prism.
    could really realte with it and laughed at the mention of’kuluso and ten-ten’,brought back some memories.
    wish it could still go on, but i think thats the end…
    @estrella WHAT? REALLY?

    1. Yeah, this is the end for now. I didn’t think of continuing, but with the interest thus far, I feel motivated to continue…lol.

  7. @emmanuella, would really like to see you write that stuff…, that is if the LETCHER will let you

  8. @Prism,
    1. what are kulusors?
    2. i guess the two girls were not able to catch up with the leader-in-the-oversized pink dress cos they probably expected her to change the pattern but…
    3. i like the “cliff” ending. it mustn’t always have parts,that reminds me of the nollywood trend.
    4. nice read tho i think there were some drawn out descriptions.
    @estrella, u had the potential?do u think so cos u were the adventurous type or you’d had bad experiences with guys?
    @emmanuella, do u think the occurence of homosexuality in same sex schools is cos of the same sex thing?it occured in my sec sch (all boys) and a friend of mine who went to one of the seminary schs had to leave cos some senior tried to force him into some gay “practices”

    1. I wish I knew the English name for kulusor, but I’ll try to describe them. THey are small off black colored insects (moles???) that live in the ground. They make holes and they walk backwards (but then again what is forward?). Thanks for the comment. I think I’ll try to avoid the nollywood thing, even though its tempting.

  9. Lovely story Prism, I really enjoyed it.

  10. @neo-lite, as kid, i had kulusors as pets though they are just little insects… we even organized races for them…they SHIFT backward…very funny

  11. This story dey like true story… Hmmm… Beautifully written…

  12. I was also wondering what Kulusors were and now trying to remember if I knew them when I was younger.

    The story is well told, but I think apart from childhood reminiscence, the issue of homosexuality raised at the end should have been better explored. It appears cut short. I know this is the end, but if you should rewrite for publication elsewhere, you can consider doing that. She briefly mentions the fears and repercusions, what are these? Are there other relationships she knows about that experienced these? How did she FEEL? During, and especially when Yinka had to leave?

    1. Thanks for the suggestions. I think I’ll try to expand on the ending. I had the same feelings about it,too, but I was reluctant to go into detail because I wasn’t sure how people would respond to the piece…

  13. @myne – my sentiments exactly. @estrella – now I want an interview with you. Kinda interesting shah.

  14. Yes people! I had the potential to become a lesbian basically because i could look at and talk about another chicks assets the way a guy would and i used to wish i was a guy so i could get a piece of the guys are mighty lucky i tell!! The woman is a beautiful piece of divine artistry.besides,the guys in my life were all a-holes pardon, my french!

    @jaywriter…an interview with you? yes please! the time and place and i’ll be there..hehehehe

    and as for what you call kulusors…the English word i believe is ant lion…at least that’s what I’ve always known them to be over here in the north..

    1. @estrella – You give me venue, time and date. Seriously, if you’ll be honest, then the interview’ll be a classic. So anytime you’re ready just give me venue, time and date.

    2. hmm.. .You are so open and honest about yourself…

  15. ‘Isolatedly’, I think this piece is a really good one. However, it has inspired some concerns that I’d prefer to keep of this page.
    Well done POAI.

    1. Thanks Scopeman. You should write about your concerns on here. I’m glad this piece has at least started a conversation on an issue we Nigerians like to pretend does not exist among us.

      1. Maybe I will, I have to make sure not to inspire the wrong impressions. Keep ur fingers crossed tho.

  16. Guys think that insect mentioned is called ‘kpum kpum ogele’. There’s the game that is done in pairs where you each pair keeps clapping their hands together as they pass through the raised clapping hands hands of other pairs. This is done with a song ‘kpum kpum o gele, o gele ogele nta, onye na acho ogele?, ogele o gele nta… Hope at least one person knows what me’s talking about?

  17. @myne…u r very right

  18. @Prism and xikay, don’t remember them tho i grew up in the south.maybe they weren’t common where i grew up at. the kulusor things sound funny to me, moving backwards and all that. kulusor race?talk of the creativity of a child’s mind. HEY! LETS HAVE KULUSOR MARATHON. guess they start at the finish line and end at the beginning. do they have rear and side view mirrors?(lol)hilarious.
    @jaywriter, kpum kpum ogele? lmao. the first name that should have a comma.
    @estrella, hope u see yourself as a beautiful piece of divine artistry, u know beauty is in the eye of the beholder and in the heart of the beheld. mean while, e be like say u still get chances of crossing over o.i’m feelin the girl sha (i.e. you).
    @scopeman. i think u speak my mind.also wanted to make comments but u neva know what kind of sentiments u’ll cause to erupt.

  19. …unnatural…

  20. Interesting read.

    Wonder what all the ‘excitement’ about dear Estrelle’s undiscovered alternate sexual preference is…no be today psychology don speculate say eight of ten women are bi-curious…so I don’t know why y’all going gogo gaga.

    When Aunty Yinka brought the gala and stuff I started thinking…’not another winchi winchi thingy’…you really did well.

  21. Nice.Really nice.I ditto chetachi though…

  22. Fred Nwonwu (@Fredrick-chiagozie-Nwonwu)

    Wonder how come I did not see this when it was first posted. Astonishingly beautiful. More grease.

  23. It’s a nice story but I kinda got the cue as soon as you introduced ‘Yinka.’ And yeah, what did the girl feel about it? Did she enjoy it?

  24. A crowd pulling story

  25. Anything ‘taboo’ or so called ‘forbidden’ always attracts a lot of interest and this story is no exception. It does not take anything away from the fact that it is well written though. Well done. The points suggested for improvement and fleshing out of the story are good too.

  26. A very nice read.

  27. Andre (@andresuave)

    Look you can’t do this o… you can’t leave me hanging like this. This story has to end. lol
    Nice piece.

  28. This is lovely, very tense yet relieving.

  29. Nice piece.
    To think that some parents sent their daughters to “all girls” schools to keep them “pure”. lol

  30. Wow! That’s all I can say for now. However, I get angry when stories like this makes my heart race and just leaves it hungry, wanting for more. Check the 3rd paragraph, towards the end -” never mind”, isn’t it meant to be “never mindiing”? Great piece though.

  31. quite breezy…your MC would need to stop reading on saturdays…lol

    but i like it..well written.

  32. i enjoy stories that take me down memory lane…in this case, the good old secondary skul days…
    beautiful and artistically handled.

    but the noise from their loudly clapped hands: clapping. clapped isnt consistent with the on-going event.


  33. when u mentioned d way aunty yinka sat on d desk..i knew what was amiss…nice one.

  34. Ugo Chime (@Flourishing-Florida)

    I like the story, although i could already guess at what was happening early on.

    U still need to edit this story. not only to eliminate the predictability, but to correct ur repetitions (far too many of them). also, flesh out the characters. right now, they r generic, and quite similar to each other. Also, if am being touched by a woman 4 d first time in my life, i’d expect to feel shock and pleasure (??? am not entirely sure of this, but am guessing the body responds to erotic touch first b4 processing who it came from). I see no shock here, just pleasure. Which makes me think, has d MC been doing this b4? Is she just shy cos this time itz with a senior?

  35. Nnenna-Ihebom (@Nnenna-Ihebom)

    Quite a nice read. You showed mastery of words in this story, but the ending seems to need a review. kudos

  36. Lovely stuff…knew where you were going half way through but still…nice

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