Boarding House Memoirs…
It was a weekend on this day in September 1995 that I was driven through the heavy metal gates into the premises of the Sacred Heart Private School, Ringroad, Ibadan. The environment houses the convent separated by a tall fence from the male and female hostel as well as the school itself. The school hostel plays host to both primary and secondary school students within the environs. Schools like Queens School,Ibadan, Government College, Ibadan, St Theresa’s college, Ibadan and Our Lady of Apostles, Maryway, Ibadan. All these schools have their own boarding house facilities except OLA which is apparently the closest to SH. Parents in those days, however preferred putting all their kids in one place for easy access and proper monitoring. There were families who had a kid or two in Sacred Heart and preferred that their older kids in nearby secondary schools also stay in the same hostel. I think that was how the idea of secondary school students staying in that hostel came about. As a result, we had whole families of four kids or more living together and schooling. We had the Lamidis(four kids), Adeoyes(two), Obeahons(two), Idowus(four), Fatumbis(four) and other names I can’t remember now.
I had gained admission into the girls school at mokola, a catholic secondary school which was my second choice, St Louis Grammar School. However, my mum, who worked at Nipost and had association of friends who all advised one another and decided which school was best for a child all decided I should be taken to Our Lady of Apostles,Maryway. Then, I think they considered the proximity from NIPOST at Dugbe to Maryway, Odo Ona. And yes, she did come almost everyday with puff-puff. The gatemen, Baba Akinpele and Baba Ojo knew me so well because of my mum who never left the school. She usually sent either of them to call me from my classroom while she sat and waited at the gate.
Now, my mum’s reasoning was this, I had a big sister from another mother in this school who would protect me, Tosin Ijayekunle. We heard all sortsa story about the hostel of the school in mokola, how mean they were and all. So it was decided that I should go to a school where I had a big sister(for close monitoring). That’s what my mum still does today, linking me up with uncles and aunties in different part of the city. Each time I have to move away from home, she suddenly remembers her family member in that same town who I never grew up to know or meet and begins to call them(lmao), quite hilarious,isn’t it? Coming to live in abuja, she called several strange people who I never heard their name before and told me to meet them. That’s just by the wayside…
This post virtually has to be about me, my secondary school boarding house experience and my mum. Wow, so I’m writing about my mum for the first time on this blog. Yes, she’s so actively involved/intertwined with the story because there’s no way I can separate her from it. Writing this memoir brings back nostalgic feelings, memories I had long forgotten. Yes, it is good. Writing is therapeutic, it brings back good, soothing memories from the past which is highly needed. To be continued……cos I aint really concentrating. Several things to do.. Till next friday…..
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