'Ola' the Yoruba name for wealth. Its a common name everyone wishes and wants to have and acquire. It is said and believe in my culture that 'your name makes you who you are' and for once... I couldn't help but agree.I stare through the tinted window of the expensive car, staring into space lost in thought of what will or could happen at the new and strange environment am heading to, the pros and cons. I can't believe this is happening _to me.
My mother keeps stealing glances at me, the air was tensed, the driver really focused on what he was doing, gripping the steering wheel like his whole life depends on it. I will if I were in his shoes, this job feeds his family.
Even with the car windows rolled up, I can still hear it, though faintly.. the horns of cars, the hooting of hawkers, on the ever busy road known as Owolabi's road right here Lagos State, it leads to the outskirt of the big city linking it with other states.
"You know its for the best, when you are through with this, you can go ahead to join your brothers" I rolled my eyes atypically at my mother's word. Of course I will love to join my brothers in the U.K but do they have to send me to a boarding school in a middle of no where. No!
"Don't you ever make that face to me young lady" she said angrily."Am sorry" I pout, knowing that's my only saving grace from a lecture on how a good girl from a good background should behave.
"Its for your own good o, 'pele ti e'"
I know her first sentence has a double meaning to it but I decide to ignore it.We left the busy road far back, like a while ago, the driver navigated the car through a quite, cleared,tarred, well kept road,green forestry and trees on both side. It reminds me of the fictional Mystic falls from my favorite t.v show 'The Vampire Diaries'. I mean, its fiction but if par adventure it isn't, am taking a next possible flight to find my Damon or Klaus.... No no Teni go back to the real world, the real situation at hand, i mentally slapped myself.
" Expatiate more on why you are sending me to this school" I turned to my mom, my eyes narrowed.
"Teni, you need to learn how to relate with people, you know be friendly, learn to be social" she explains using paralinguistic features to expatiate her thoughts.
"Are you in anyway saying your only daughter is boring" I fake gasped, mildly glaring at her, she sighed,as if giving up but she knows me, she knows my tactics. She knows am looking for a way out of the situation. I can boldly say she is one of the people that knows me in and out. Am trying to guilt trip her, but I don't think that is working.
"You know what I mean darling, you need to experience what it feels like to be a teenager... Life is not only about staying in your room after coming back from school and reading two to three books like you are on a mission to invent what we have never seen or heard of, you need to socialize and understand how the society works"
My mum finished her impromptu speech or should I call it a pep talk, heaving. Meet my mother, Eniola Coker, a very sophisticated, classy and high standard woman, yet a loving, kind,caring mother and a doting and wonderful wife . She is beautiful and she knows it,she is tall and as a unique body shape which other people will refer to as sexy even after three children. I had her body structure, I had thick thighs and big butt, my waist is really tiny and my chest is not that big, just the medium size.
The only difference between us was our complexion, she was really fair in complexion and am not talking about the bleaching type you see with this typical Lagos women, no she is natural, while I took my dad's brown skin and my mum light skin almost making me a mulatto, which I love so much, and also she added some fat to her skin in contrast to my petite figure. I was in between, not that fat and not that slim either. We both had the facial looks though along with the cute dimple.
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The Final Year (vol 1)
Teen FictionIn the American culture, its referred to as high school. With the Britons, its called the secondary school or high school. In other places, its called a college... But, have you thought about the life of a Nigerian Secondary School Student, what i...