This post was originally published in January 2015.
A few days ago, I had the chance to visit one of my former secondary schools. It’s called Thomas Adewumi International College (and its located in Nigeria as you’ve guessed). My audience at the time was predominantly non-Nigerian so you might feel like you are being told obvious things if you are a Nigerian reader today.
This particular school is quite an important one. Indeed it may be the most important one of the (many) schools I attended growing up. You see, this is where the most suffering happened. It is where I learned a great deal of pain, tangible and otherwise.
If it is true that suffering builds character (as I believe it to be) then this is the place where the very foundations of my character were forged. To be honest, I’ve been watching too much LOTR and The Hobbit (literally whole trilogies in one sitting over and over) so you might find that my language is a little middle-earthian. Several years later, I still watch too much LOTR and the Hobbit. I don’t think I will ever stop doing this.
I took some photos while I was over there so I’m going to use the pictures to structure (stop laughing Mr. M) this post.
Let’s begin with a quick background on the school. It’s a full boarding school (no day students) and it is located in the middle of nowhere (sometimes also referred to as Oko [this word means stone/rock in my language], the name of the village where it is located). I’ve now written located too many times, it sounds weird. Located. LO-CA-TED. Loca-Ted. Weird.
Anyway, I started off by dropping off my cousin (the real reason I was down there) off at the girls’ hostel which incidentally, I had never actually visited. You see, the classrooms, dining hall, admin block and just about everything else are located between the male and female hostels at the top of a rock (the village is aptly named) so there was never any reason to go down ‘that side’ of the rock for me. I had heard that the girls’ hostel was surrounded by a thorny bush (think sleeping beauty) and I can now confirm this to be true.
I then went on to wander around the classrooms. They were mostly the same, including most of the laboratories, save cosmetic upgrades here and there. Only peculiar thing of note was that the ICT lab had become a ‘French lab’. It was also locked so I’m afraid I couldn’t take a look inside to find out just what a French lab is.
Next I went over to the hostels (boarding house). Outside I met some people who were screening the students’ personal effects (You are allowed a very strict list of items like soap, buckets, bed sheets and the like. Everything else is contraband). I made my identity known (one guy even recognised me, albeit only after I said who I was so I ain’t buying it) and so I was given permission to wander around my old stomping ground to see what had become of it.
I immediately went over to the Bathroom of Blood (pictured below). This is where I sustained a 3-inch head injury which exposed the contents of my head for a few hours. I can now report that the blood has been cleaned up. Reading this again and I can’t help but chuckle at “the contents of my head.” But yes, it was a spectacular head injury.
Next up, my old bedroom. I should note at this point that the hostel hadn’t really changed. Gotta hand it to those designers/builders, they built lasting structures. Fun fact about my old room (pictured below), there was once a fire that almost killed us in there. Nasty business, finding your way out of a burning building. I have since had to escape other burning buildings and I can can now confirm beyond any doubt, burning buildings are a bottom-tier experience. Fire safety is really important folks.
The picture below just shows where we ironed our clothes, sometimes got hair cuts, and other general boarding house type stuff. Nothing special.
Little bit of history about the courtyard pictured below: whenever people got into fights, the then house-master would (rather than stop the fight), have it moved to the courtyard so that everyone could watch. It also became mandatory to actually fight as the punishment for disappointing the crowd was usually much worse.
Next up is my old common room. This is where I learned to play table tennis. The games were usually made up of single round sudden death rallies so you had to really learn to play to be able to take part. This is where I learned a little about dedication; I spent many nights (10pm — 4am) practicing with one or two friends to be able to compete with the top players. I’m now okay at table tennis.
I also learned to play Monopoly here. Through this I learned how to be a cold-blooded capitalist. Or just an asshole. Or whatever.
Below is where I washed many items of clothing that did not belong to me. This is exactly what is sounds like.
I once got stung by a scorpion at school. It wasn’t really painful and I would have walked away (it was night time) if someone hadn’t gotten curious and used a light to search for my attacker. Of course the venom from a scorpion is not something to ‘walk away’ with so I was sought medical attention.
The school nurse at the time was not very good at treating scorpion stings, I don’t think. You see, she applied Hydrogen Peroxide to my toe (this is where I was stung) relentlessly for about 2 weeks. In this time, the peroxide had corroded so much of my flesh that the underlying bone had become visible. At this point, the peroxide stopped. You live and learn.
Next I took the old route back up to the school ( pictured below). FF: Walking up and down this route everyday multiple times made a lot of us develop hunched backs. My back is still slightly hunched today.
Above is the area to the right of the route to school where older students were rumored to meet up and do the things. I cannot substantiate these claims. I simply wasn’t cool enough to be doing things with girls. Also I was too busy staying alive.
Ah the dining hall. This is where I was supposed to have most of my meals. That’s right, I didn’t have most of my meals. No, I wasn’t being a hardass, nothing that special. I was being bullied out of my food.
Observation: Stomach ulcers are painful. And surprisingly distracting.
I wasn’t very athletic (on account of being malnourished and whatnot) so no memories of note at the Sports Field. All you get is a sign.
This IS what it looks like. These guys have solar panels now. There was a time when we had to walk a few kilometres to fetch water for ourselves (and naturally, the older students too). Power wasn’t even a thing of note! Now we have solar panels. How far we have come.
And finally there’s a rather poorly taken photo of the entrance/exit. Too much vegetation in the way so I didn’t bother trying to get a better shot.
Now you have some idea of where the tangible (physical) pain came from. The intangible pain requires a little more explanation. But not too much cause I can’t really be bothered.
As you know, cause I won’t shut up about it, I was bullied. This is nothing special on its own, it happens to almost everyone. But you see, mine was different from usual in two ways.
1 — I stood up to bullies a few times and was knocked down to a position that felt like it was even further down. Standing up didn’t work for me. I was well and truly hopeless. No, I did not tell my parents or teachers. Probably should have. Didn’t feel like they would be able to help at the time.
2 — I was bullied (perhaps the most) by someone who I was supposed to trust with my well-being. This person was a family member who until we became schoolmates was one of my favorites. This one really hurt.
Overall I think it was a good trip.
In case you are still wondering why its called the Bathroom of Blood, it’s because there was a ghastly amount of blood in there after I fell. (I was lying there for a few minutes in the ocean of blood before I was discovered.)
