JAMB 2015: OFFICIAL RECOMMENDED BOOK THE LAST DAYS AT FORCADOS HIGH SCHOOL - AH MOHAMMED. SUMMARY OF CHAPTER 2 Jimi and Ansa got to school just before assembly was due to start. Jimi left to join the other prefects. Morning assembly took place in the large hall that stood in the centre of the school and students lined up according to their classes. The school band, looking smart as always, had positioned itself in one corner and was already beating drums softly in practice. A few teachers were waiting outside the hall, ready to punish latecomers by asking them to kneel down. At eight o’clock, Seyi Lawal, the head boy, stood up on the stage. He was fat and smooth- cheeked from the holidays and with his hand on his chest, he smiled with faint smugness. He loved his job. ‘Attention everybody!’ he called out. ‘The national Anthem.’ The school band struck up the tune, drums beating, and the students raggedly joined in. the juniors were eager and enthusiastic, the seniors uninterested. All the students of Forcados high school were excited to be back after the long, long summer break. The school held an unofficial pride of place among all the other schools in the area; it had the largest football field and the best layout. Bright purple and orange bougainvillea had been carefully planted along the fences. The school building were arranged in small one- and two-storey blocks, with rows of hibiscus plants forming small hedges between each class. Others often said that forcados students were ‘artificial,’ but the school took pride in the fact that it always defected other schools in regional quizzes and sports. After the national anthem and assembly prayers, Mr Mallum, the principal, gave a brief talk welcoming everyone. He was a small, wiry man with an odd accent, as if he spoke through his nose. The students loved imitating him. ‘It’s a pleasure to have all of you back. It is very important, however, that we face up to the responsibilities of this new term_ particularly our final year students who have the west Africa Examination Council (WAEC)examinations. This is an important watershed….’ When assembly was over, the students_ boys in white shirts black ties and black trousers, and girls in black pinafores over white shirts _ crowded into hallways and corridors of the school, chatting. Some people greeted Ansa, but many more crowded around Jimi. ‘Jimi, where have you been ‘Missed you!’ ‘ Coachie’s annoyed!’ ‘Party tonight…’ Jimi was soon lost in laughter and chatter. Forgotten, Ansa looked around glumly. The first days of term were always the worst. Back to further maths and physics, and everyone talking in the latest slang about what they’d been up to and what new music was out, while he had nothing to say. He saw that some students wore their ties in odd knots and had chains on their trousers, showing off watches and shoes. American bling- bling. Some also carried the latest Nokia or Samsung cell phones even though students weren’t allowed to use phones. There were the same old people: the gorilla- like Okoro, a miserable bully; Teacher Bade, whom students called ‘cane’ was always waiting for the next hapless kid who would fall into his trap; the Rhymers_ a group of five boys who composed hip- hop lyrics after school, hoping to become the next Nigerian sensation; Eze, the bright spark who was in an unspoken contest with Jimi over their chemistry results; and finally, gum-chewing Caro (Jimi’s Caro, or the other way round), the Queen Bee with her perpetually disdainful expression. Ansa counld never understand what his friend saw in her. Jimi was the best student in chemistry and a whiz kid in other subjects. He had won prizes and laurels for the school in science and debate competitions. He was also the health perfect, the athletic club captain and the best footballer. What’s more, all the girls thought he was good- looking. If there was anyone who could be described as an all-rounder, it was Jimi Solade. Some people have all the luck, thought Ansa, but Jimi was such a friendly, likable person that people were hardly envious of him, it had always been like that. For instance, Mama Silifat, who sold puff-puff and akara outside the school premises, would always give Jimi the largest pieces, smiling and calling him by his full name, Akinjimi, or omo mi (my child). Jimi had been Ansa’s hero since primary school because he was good at so many things, while the only thing Ansa knew how to do was paint, there had never been two friends who were more different. A plump girl with short plaits framing her round, gentle face came over. It was Nene Ekpo. She lived on the same street as jimi and Ansa and she was one of their oldest friends. Ansa was genuinely glad to see her. She had the sweetest smile. ‘Hi Ansa!’ she said in her light, pretty voice, ‘Glad to see you. Look at Jims, when did he get back?’ ‘He came back yesterday.’ ‘I could hear his voice from a distance, rowdy and full of fun as usual,’ said Nene, laughing. ‘By the way, do you remember anyone called Efua? She’s a relative of Mrs. Alli who lives on Balogun Street, not too far from us.’ Ansa wrinkled his forehead. ’No, I don’t.’ ‘Neither do I _not very well. She was at our primary school for a while and she’s coming here to join us.’ ‘In SS3?.’ ‘I think she had to leave her former school _at least that’s what her aunt told my mother. Her aunt asked me_ us rather _ to help her settle down and get used to things. How were your holidays? ‘Oh, boring. But I did get the opportunity to go to an art workshop for one week.’ ‘Sounds like fun,’ she turned toward Jimi. ‘Jims! Hello! After school, Jimi walked behind a block of classrooms. It was empty there and closest to the back wall of the school, several huge casuarina tress loomed there and, except for the occasional rustling dove, All was quiet. Jimi put on his earphones and turned on his ipod until loud hip- hop music filled his ears. They hadn’t done much schoolwork today: he and the other prefects had to mobilize the students, mostly juniors, to pick leaves and do other chores, and he now wanted to be alone. It was rare for Jimi to be or want to be alone, but he had a lot of things on his mind. Wole had returned. There was a time when he and his brother had been very close, standing together against the savage bullying of their oldest brother, Femi, but Wole had changed. He had been expelled from two different schools and kicked out of university for reasons Jimi didn’t fully understand. The last time Wole had been home he had falsified his father’s signature and made away with a lot of money. That was something Papa Solade could never forgive_ never. He had been so furious when he discovered Jimi and Wole still saw each other secretly that he had even sent Jimi away to Ibadan for the holidays. He said he didn’t want Jimi under Wole’s bad influence. Now, his father was increasingly in a bad mood, growling at everyone and blaming Mrs. Solade for spoiling them _ as if Jimi had ever done anything bad: not like Wole anyway. His mother too seemed tired and harasses all the time. ‘I’m just not feeling too good, it’s nothing to worry about, really,’ she’d say. Jimi had decided nothing was going to bother him again. It was time for school and he was going to keep on being the brightest student, getting the best results in WAEC, while still partying, playing football and enjoying the admiration of lots of girls. A sudden movement startled him. It was the head boy, Seyi ‘Jims, we have a prefect meeting with Mr Mallum now.’ As they got to the office, two people came out. One of them was a middle-aged woman dressed in an expensive iro and buba. Her gele was huge! The two boys had to bend their heads slightly to avoid bumping it. She wore dark sunglasses and her mouth was tightly pursed in a grim, forbidding manner. The other was a girl who was not wearing a school uniform. It was a bit difficult to tell what she looked like because she had an odd expression on her face, as if was going to be sick. ‘Who are they?’ Seyi asked Jimi. Jimi shrugged, ‘Don’t know,’ Hit like & share for Chapter 3 summary.
Posted on: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 05:53:59 +0000
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