MEMORIES FROM BOARDING SCHOOL DAYS: VISITING DAYS

This chapter talks of the experience on visiting days in boarding school. It was always a special day

I watched out for an ash-coloured Mercedes benz every first Saturday of the month while strolling down the embankment tracing the earth road lining the car park. It was my dad’s and he doesn’t disappoint on visiting days. Those days have a peculiar air which smells of curries and tastes of chilles plus a surcharge oxygen rush of parental love, guardian’s care and friendliness. There were lots of eating and drinking with a common camaraderie of friendliness binding four or five friends gathered under a tree to mix aromas from each person’s spice: jollof rice and chicken, white rice and stew with fish and so on. Myself, Henry, Emmanuel and Femi would share meals after our parents must have left somewhere close to the park. We rarely take food to the hostel.

Each visiting day was foreran by hunger and a widespread pandemic discontent which heightened anticipation beyond the desire to see lockers filled again with garri, milk and other provisions. The air gestating the feeling of discontent and famishment which we sow above our heads while working tirelessly during labour hours on Wednesday and inspection days return to us specialness to a visiting day; its rituals, the soul of its physical evidence, its umbilical cord of frenzy and the biology of its spirituality. It was always such an enjoyable occasion best experienced with a coupling atmosphere of a just concluded Parents Teacher Association (PTA) meeting.