Joseph Oluwadare
Bio
Open-hearted Maverick
Stories (3/0)
Inside a Nigerian Boarding School
The iron pillars in the hostels not only support the building structure but also serve as a general alarm for the hostel hall. This alarm does not just wake you up from your sleep but takes it away from you immediately. When beaten with another strong metal, the pillars generate a loud noise, and you can feel the sound vibrations in your brain. The noise from the pillar is not to wake you but force you out of bed for the daily hostel sanitation, probably around 4:30 am. There was no specific time because it depends on the hostel prefect, but it must be very early while all students are still in the hostel. It will be a shame if you do not react to the alarm because it is also the sound of your final warning to wake up immediately. We gather at the pillar where the house prefect makes the wake-up call. After every student has assembled by the pillar, the house prefect will look out for students still sleeping after he made the call; if you did not react to the sound, you would react to the whip. You can never be too tired not to respond to both.
By Joseph Oluwadare11 months ago in Confessions
Inside a Nigerian Boarding School
Danger and Skull are two people in my hostel that most of my mates will avoid any form of relationship with because we have no idea of any illegal activities they cannot partake in. Logically, you should be scared of anyone nicknamed Danger or Skull. Sometimes you do not know how dangerous you are until you have crossed the enemy's line.
By Joseph Oluwadare11 months ago in Confessions
Inside a Nigerian Boarding School
It was Saturday, the resumption day for all first-year students. I have been waiting all morning for my dad to come home and pick me up for my new school. Finally, at 11:22 am, I could hear the sound of his car engine, and it felt like the medicine for my anxiety had just arrived. Are you ready to go? He said, with so much excitement; I said yes and opened the car trunk as my siblings assisted me in carrying my box and other belongings. My box was not conventional, but the school highly recommended it. Made from a thick aluminum sheet, the box was about three feet in length, two feet in breadth, and a height of one foot; it had two padlocks on guard and was painted with awful colors to protect the box from rusting and not to beautify it. The nature of my box was supposed to open my mind to the idea that I was going into a den of thieves. It was impossible to pass through the facility for six years without stealing a thing, at least a pen. I was so naïve; all I was thinking about was the freedom from parenting, the allowances, the liberty from house chores, and the pride in attending one of the region's most talked about boarding schools. Finally, a few minutes past twelve, the whole house was ready to move. It was fascinating how they were all excited that I was leaving the house, but the feeling was mutual.
By Joseph Oluwadare11 months ago in Confessions