Against the Odds. Ben Igwe
were often with held, Uridiya managed to pay the fees in the end. It happened that for two consecutive terms, the same bright pupil that came first in Primary Standard Three examinations had his results withheld for not completing his fees. The headmaster was aware of this but did not know who the pupil was. When Jamike’s result was again withheld at the end of his first term in Primary Standard Four, the headmaster asked to see the pupil. Jamike was petrified when Ekweariri, his teacher, took him to see the headmaster, Mr. Ahamba, at the beginning of the second term.
The headmaster’s office was in fading blue color. Roof rafters and crossbeams were visible in the room with no ceiling. Jamike and his teacher stood a good distance from the headmaster’s wooden table with a green blotter that covered half the tabletop. There were class registers on one side of the table and teachers’ notes of lessons on another side. Three bottles of black, blue, and red ink, pencils and fountain pens were obvious.
“Good afternoon, sir. This is the pupil, sir.”
“What is your name, young man?” Ahamba asked the boy who stood at frozen attention.
“Jamike,” he replied, shaking in his knees.
“Who pays your school fees?” he asked in a deep voice, as he looked at him straight in his face. Jamike dropped his head.
“My mother.”
“Why does your father leave your mother to pay your fees?”
“My father is not alive,” Jamike stated.
“How long ago did he die?”
“Sir, I don’t know. My mother said I was a little boy then,” he answered.
“What type of work does your mother do to get money for your fees?”
“Sir, she sells whatever she gets from the farm.” Jamike began to sweat.
“Things like what?”
Jamike told the headmaster that his mother sold vegetables, cocoyam, pepper, palm oil, and palm kernel.
“ Does your mother not have some other person in the family who can help her pay your fees?” The boy regained his confidence.
“Sir, it is my father’s brother but he is not on good terms with my mother. They quarrel all the time. He did not want me to attend school.”
“What did he want you to do?”
“Sir, he wanted me to learn how to repair bicycles.”
“You know your last term’s result was withheld because you did not complete your fees?”
“Sir, I know.” Mr. Ahamba looked at the teacher and shook his bald head.
“What a waste of talent if this boy does not finish schooling.”
“There are many like him, sir, but this boy is different because he is always first in class examinations.” Jamike did not fully understand what the headmaster said about talent.
Jamike’s teacher noted that very soon students would be sent home for non-payment of the present term’s fees, and Jamike would be among them. At this point the headmaster told Mr. Ekweariri, and Jamike thought he heard him well, not to send the student away for lack of school fees until both of them discussed it. He asked Jamike to return to his classroom while his teacher stayed back. As he left the headmaster’s office, Jamike tried to think about why the headmaster would ask his teacher not to send him away if he did not pay his fees. Did he mean Jamike would not pay school fees anymore, or is it that the headmaster would now pay for him? He did not understand it. The teacher came closer to the headmaster’s table.
“Who will take care of his fees, sir? You know it would be unfair to send other students home without Jamike being sent home too.”
“I will take over the payment from now on. A bright young man like this should be assisted, or he would leave school and begin to waste his life in the village and never realize his potential.”
“Do you mean this, sir?”
“ I would not say so if I did not mean it.”
“What you have said is true, sir, about children not being able to realize their potential because of lack of money,” the teacher said. “What you have done, sir, has no comparison. It is wonderful, sir. You know, sir, that you need to arrange to see his mother so she won’t have to worry herself to death about this term’s fees. Parents lose sleep and pine away when it is time for school fees and money is not available.”
“I plan to do so. I will, however, need someone to direct me to his home.” The headmaster thought for a few seconds. “No, I think the best thing to do will be to follow Jamike home after school next Friday. That’s what I am going to do.”
“That would be the best way to go about it. Thank you, sir.” Teacher Ekweariri left the office thinking how lucky Jamike was among other students. “Well, he is intelligent,” he muttered.
That night the headmaster and his wife, Asamuka, discussed his intention. She said it was worthwhile and gave her support. That was not the first time the headmaster and his wife had helped an indigent student, but for Jamike they planned to be responsible for his fees until he completed elementary school in Primary Standard Six, three years away.
It was a little after two o’clock in the afternoon on a Friday. The sun was still hot. Hawks flew high and drifted in clear skies. Dry oil-bean pods exploded on trees from the sun’s heat, and children ran with speed into bushes in different directions, not minding thorns, shrubs, and other impediments to pick oil-bean seeds. Though the market was settling to its usual noisy business at this time, some men could be seen strolling leisurely and chatting on their way while women with baskets of goods to sell walked at a more than normal pace.
Most villagers had gone to the market, and the village was generally quiet. School children who played ball along the road were still heading home. Uridiya, usually prompt for the market, was still in her backyard arranging and tying her basket. Akudike, her late husband’s brother, tired from the day’s farm work sent his grandson to the market for tobacco and palm wine while he swept out the goat shed and organized his veranda.
The headmaster dismounted his white Raleigh bicycle at the gate of the compound and stood it to the left of Akudike’s out house. School children who saw him on his way down the dirt road were surprised but excited that he was in their neighborhood. Some ran off to tell their parents that their headmaster had gone into Jamike’s compound with him, but they were doubted. Others stood and stared, wondering what might have happened. They thought the boy must have committed a serious offense at school for the headmaster to bring him home. Uridiya answered her son from her backyard. Jamike hurried back there and in a moment was out with his mother.
Uridiya was gripped with apprehension when Jamike introduced the headmaster. She greeted him but did not know what to make of this unusual visit.
“Headmaster, what brought you to our compound this day? Whatever it is, it must be your spirit that has been delaying me. I would have long been in the market by now. I hope it is nothing bad. Children are very rascally these days.”
“Your son brought me, but it is for a good reason. I like to visit in the village from time to time, but I just haven’t made it to this area before now.”
“God bless you that you remember us. May it be good to you.” Akudike raised his head and kept an ear in the direction of the conversation.
Uridiya called on Akudike to come out to see who had come to visit them. He chided her for keeping the headmaster standing while she talked to him.
“Find the headmaster a seat,” he scolded Uridiya. He shook the headmaster’s hand and motioned him to his veranda. Once they sat down, he offered kola nut and alligator pepper, which he fished out of his bag, and apologized for not having any palm wine.
“Please pardon our inadequacy.”
“ You have offered kola nut to welcome me and that is enough