Ibinu

Chapter 6: People.

Jss3.

Lola.

The noisy chatter of the girls in my year surrounded me as I lay down on my bed in one of the communal bedrooms on the third floor of our hostel in Cameroon. 

The floor had three other student bedrooms, each with its own bathroom as well as a kitchenette and rooms for the hostel mistresses and cooks.  My room was the first door on the right once you opened the door at the top of the staircase.

The kitchenette was directly across from the staircase door while the other bedrooms were situated towards the left, further down the corridor. 

Each room could only contain six bunks, so we had to place our lockers and boxes in two separate rooms on the floor: one room was used to store boxes and ghana must gos, while the other was for our cloth and shoe lockers. 

Three rooms had direct access to balconies: my room, the last student bedroom on the far left and one of the staff rooms. The two balconies were shared by all the girls in the hostel.

It was Saturday afternoon; we didn't have anywhere to go or anything to do since we had begged them to scrap afternoon prep for the duration of our stay in Cameroon (which was basically for the entire term. Yay).  

Since there was no itinerary, people just ended up doing their own thing. 

The room's windows  and balcony doors were opened to let in the fresh air, music was being played from iPods, and the rooms bustled as people from different rooms mingled: 

Some girls were gisting, a few others were playing cards, some particularly slow washers were still washing their clothes. Other girls were reading storybooks or novels while a few talented ones were constructing their own stories.

I was glad for the break as I had forcefully got out of my bed that morning to do my hostel duties despite my menstrual pain and diarrhoea.

I was in severe pain. I couldn't move, couldn't eat, my body was in utter discomfort no matter how many times I adjusted on my bed. All I was able to do was lie listlessly on my bed, like a rice worm and hold back tears.

Bisola came and stood by my bedside;  I was wondering if she came to take care of me and was about to shift to make room for her on the bed when she said, 

"Lola, how far? Are you with the key?" She asked with her hands on her hips.

She was asking about the key to the padlock on my provision ghana must go*. Since we were staying in a foreign country, our school allowed us to bring provisions and money(to buy more provisions.)

I guess they were afraid of us starving to death and our parents holding them accountable since they also allowed our parents to visit us once every month with more money and provisions as we would be staying for a full term with no breaks to go home.

My parents had come by the previous month and had promised to come to visit in the following months. 

I tried to dissuade them when I remembered the struggle of passing through the border: The hours we spent travelling from Lagos to Cotonou to meet up with my brother's set (we spent two weeks with them) to adjust to life in a french speaking country before parting ways

They drove back to school while we drove the rest of the way to Douala. 

I abruptly recalled the two weeks I had spent with the current SS1 and almost burst out in shudders. People finally found out that Tobi and I were related;

It wasn't a secret or anything, we looked alike, but it seems that no one had caught on since I wasn't really popular while Tobi was on the other end of the spectrum.