Kay Aishida: My ‘provisional’ folly (Y! Superblogger)

Kay Aishida Superbloggers

But the point was that I finished the provision on that seat up till the last speck and threw the tins away. This had to be the spelling of ‘satisfaction.’ Just me and nature. Not a soul in sight.

Now, I attended Federal Government College, Kano for my Secondary Education.

Yes! K-A-N-O. You saw right. So stop acting like your eyes are failing.

True, a lot of folks marvel when I tell them that I spent six years in a secondary school in the north. But it’s a very lovely school and I’m proud to have passed through it.

Whatever I learnt about being rugged, I learnt there. I grew from a chubby, fresh-faced, sluggish, cry-for-mummy kid when I first got in, into a rugged, battle-scarred ‘Malo’ by the time I was leaving. ‘Malo’ in Hausa language means fool by the way. So, for you guys that understand Hausa, I know what I’m saying.

I did a lot of stupid things while in secondary school, but one of the craziest stuffs I did was in my second year.

Kids, don’t try this at home.

I stay in Lagos, so I usually have this knack for resuming a week after resumption. I arrive fresh-faced with a travel bag containing clothes and books on my shoulder and clutching a bag containing my ‘provisions’ in the other free hand.

This fateful day, as I was walking to Watari House (Green house to you earthlings), I ran into a friend who had this knack for arriving just before resumption. He was so happy to see me. The dude, Yemi was his name, rushed for my bag and took out my only tins of Bournvita and Peak milk and rushed off saying I should come and collect it from his room. I tried to call him to stop but he refused. I was too tired to argue. I just arrived from a day’s trip. So I let him go. I knew I’d go collect my life-savers later. I wasn’t ready to survive on my Garri, Sugar and Kuli-kuli alone. I had no time for cornflakes. It was for sissies.

When I went to the Yemi’s room a week later in Niger House (Blue House to you), the guy took me to his cupboard and alas! With genuine shock on his face… My ‘provs’ had been stolen. I was closer to death then than anytime in my life. The shock almost took my tender life. The guy begged and pleaded and ‘had I knowned’ but I was distraught. He promised to buy it back for me but we both knew it was never going to happen.

I spent that term without my tins of Peak and Bournvita. It was a terrible term for me. It even affected my results.

The next term, I was taking no chances. To make things even sweeter, I got Milo, not the usual Bournvita. I already had plans for my Milo and Peak milk.

One of the senior masters had a son in my class. In-fact, we sat together. I had arranged that I was going to keep my ‘provs’ at his place.

When I got to school that term (earlier this time), I took my ‘provs’ there straight. It was a covert operation. Their dad was never to know. I dropped it off and went to my hostel like nothing happened. I lied to all that I didn’t bring any ‘provs’, except for the Garri and sugar.

To me back then, Milo and milk were the ‘provs’,  the icing on the cake. The Garri and all were more or less an extension of dining-hall food. I could always replace the Garri and the rest, but the Milo and milk where a tin each a term! They were sacred. Almost divine.

The plan was to go to my friend’s house on weekends to savour my ‘provs’, but I couldn’t make it for some time because his dad always seemed to be home. It was okay. As long as they were safe. I asked my friend about them every day.

Then some weeks later, he came to class and dropped the bombshell. “Sorry, but you need to come and move your ‘provs.’ My dad almost caught me with them and it would have been trouble.”

That weekend, I sneaked to his house, collected the ‘provs,’ thanked him, and took off. Because I didn’t have a plan B and I was ready to give anyone out of my ‘provs’ only on one condition; over my dead body, I decided to go to a bush a distance from the dormitory.

I found a convenient tree stump to sit on and with my locker key, I ‘launched’ the tins of Milo and Peak. I used the tamper-proof seals as spoons and proceeded to mix and lick… Now should I use lick or eat? You sha get the picture.

But the point was that I finished the provision on that seat up till the last speck and threw the tins away. This had to be the spelling of ‘satisfaction.’ Just me and nature. Not a soul in sight.

Still licking my lips, I got up to start walking to my dormitory. I took about six steps when the rumbling started somewhere. I tried to ignore and kept walking but an abdominal pain came next with the rumbling. Then a mini-seizure. “Sh-t!” I thought to myself as I ran back into the bush pulled down my trousers and like a jet of water, it came out…

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Kay Aishida is simply known to his readers as BlogAces. Predictably, his posts are called BlogAce’s Posts and he tweets @blog_aces. He writes about life generally and tries to lace it with humour.

 

Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.

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