A Loner's Journey Through Lemonade Making

Chapter 18|

It was Cultural Day.

School was bustling. Trucks with foodstuff and decoration were lined up all around campus. Different types of music with disparate tempos, beats and languages were playing from various rooms as the students rehearsed their dances and dramas.

From where I was bent over in the hall getting water from the dispenser, I could smell various foods and I could bet they'd taste wonderful. When my bottle filled up, I covered it and ran the distance to the dance studio for our last rehearsal.

We danced until we heard parents and other guests had arrived and that the event would be starting soon. Muna and I hurried to class to get our bags.

I didn't look around in class because I knew I would have a lot of time to admire everyone's outfits later. Besides, class was as good as empty because everyone was busy with one preparation or the other.

Mr Ubong left so Miss Regina could dress us.  She told us the traditional names of the clothes but nothing stuck to my brain. All I remembered was that the brass combs on our hair was called edisat. I wasn't even sure anymore.

They called a lady to help us with our hair and paint our faces. RPSS usually went all out during National Day to make sure as many cultures as possible were represented and they always nailed it.

When I finished painting my face, I went to look at the horizontal mirror that was the entire length and width of the wall. I liked how I looked.

We rehearsed once more in our clothes and it felt really different from when I danced in my shirt and leggings. The electric bell was rung, and the principal's voice asking us to assemble at the field where the event was taking place was heard through the speakers. He usually made announcements from his office with a microphone.

Miss Regina took pictures of us and with us and told us not to be nervous. The seniors kept nodding and assuring her that we wouldn't fall her hand.

"Get going. Mfon iso!" she clapped as a way of asking us to hurry up.

"Sosongo." we replied as we grabbed our bags and filed out of the room. At least I knew she'd told us good luck and that we'd responded with thank you.

There were canopies all across the field. Majority of them were for students and teachers, then a special one for the administrative staff and teachers, then parents. Mrs Adelana didn't put on an iro and buba, I noticed as took my seat inbetween Rume and Munachi. She wore a blouse, a George wrapper and an extravagant gele. Surely, some staff were standing around her. Everyone was always at her beck and call whenever she was around.

Students settled down noisily. There was different spots for different tribes, which was why I wasn't with Ibidun and Safia. I hadn't even seen them yet because I'd only gone to class once. It was Maro who had helped me drop my bag and when I went to class, they weren't there.

The opening prayer was taken by Mrs Akano. She wasn't praying but lamenting over the woes of Nigeria. She didn't even thank God for the country or commit the event into His hands. Mr Akinmolayan had to drag her off the stage so we could begin. We sang the national anthem and recited the pledge somewhat sadly, noting that everything she'd said was somehow true. But we sang the school anthem with pride.

Mrs Adelana took the stage and gave a long speech. She was obviously proud of her achievements. The hero worshipping from the teachers was annoying and disgusting. Then Mr Obadina spoke and Mrs Babata followed after him.
The presentations began immediately after. In the middle of the Igbos' dance, Miss Regina called us to the dance studio for one last rehearsal. When it was our turn, we went out and did our thing. People sprayed money, a whole lot of money. I was beyond amazed. Miss Regina gave us only five hundred naira each and made us promise we didn't let Mrs Adelana see it because she wouldn't be happy. We returned to our canopy and saw that the Yorubas had started dancing to Adekunle Gold's My Life.
Small chops was served in-between, much to my delight. Somehow, my eyes managed to land on Joju when I was about to eat a samosa and he shook his head.