Black Pages Of The Past - Episode 1

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YOU’RE ABOUT to read a vivid account of how the icy fingers of my dark past reached out ominously, grasped my bright future, and almost crushed it.

Certainly we live in a world framed by good and evil...a world markedly defined by the cyclic system of ‘cause and effect’ – echoing Sir Isaac Newton’s third law of motion, which boldly states that to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

My name is Michael Ugo. And this is my story…

I was born and raised in Lagos...the last child out of four children . My father is a major league contractor. Sadly, my mother is dead. She passed away when I was seven. My older sister, our first born, sort of mothered the rest of us – a role she still plays remarkably well.

My father is a gentleman, and nice to a fault. His fatherly role, especially after my mother’s demise, has been nothing short of exceptional. Hey, don’t get me wrong. He, like everyone else, has his faults. But on the overall he’s a great guy.

After my primary school education I sat for the Common Entrance examination, which I passed with flying colours. I gained admission into Saint Ferdinand’s College – one of the finest, all-boys secondary schools in Nigeria. I recall, with nostalgia, that I always wore my school uniform – a white short-sleeve shirt over equally white shorts – with a high sense of dignity and esteem...unlike some students I knew.

However, maintaining the white colour of the uniform was quite an arduous task for a good number of students

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. To say the least, it easily showcased those of us who were, perhaps, dirty by nature.

Lucky for me I used three uniforms per school term. Now, this doesn’t mean I was a dirty person; no, far from it. Let’s just say I was fortunate enough to have a father who could afford to procure the clothes for me. Some students, who obviously weren’t as fortunate, envied me because of this.

After my junior secondary education, and passing the relevant examinations, I opted for the Science Department for my senior secondary schooling. I did this because I really wanted to become a Mechanical engineer. Now, my classmates, without the slightest hesitation, had chosen me as their class captain – a position I held on to till I graduated from the school. In my final year the school board made me the health prefect – a position that generated controversy because it broke protocol.

As a rule then (even now) any class captain who was to be made a prefect had to first relinquish his position to someone else. My case, however, was quite different, as none of my classmates was interested in donning the mantle of captaincy. They hotly insisted I retain the position. As such I simultaneously functioned as both the class captain and the health prefect – something that had never happened before then, or after. Naturally, this made me an object of hate to some students, as well as to a few of my fellow prefects.

Time went by swiftly, and the next thing we knew was that the Senior Secondary School Examination, which had appeared miles away several years back, was now just around the corner.

After paying the SSCE fees, each of us (final year students), as part of the registration requirements, had to fill out a form with the subjects we intended to sit for. Below the form, on the left hand side, was a dotted line – a space for signature and date.

A month to the SSCE we were given our various examination numbers. Mine was 302. Two weeks to the SSCE, the time table, for each examination paper, was released. The first subject for Science students was Chemistry practical. It was a morning paper.

Read " Love's Fool " by the same author ( Ikenna Igwe )

. Everyone, I believed, was already studying in earnest for the forthcoming exams.

Like a river flowing to its expected destination the day for the Chemistry practical paper arrived. The venue, as designated, was our Chemistry Laboratory. We all stood dutifully outside while a West African Examinations Council (WAEC) official read out our names and examination numbers from a broad sheet of paper. Whenever any student heard his name and number, he would immediately walk into the Lab and sit down at the desk assigned to him.

And now here comes the shocker. Every student’s examination details were read out – except mine. When I complained to the WAEC official he showed me the broad sheet and asked me to look through it myself; perhaps he had erroneously omitted my name and number, earlier.

As it turned out he hadn’t. My examination details were missing on the sheet of paper. I carefully looked through the broad paper again...and again my name and number were absent. I began to sweat, despite the cold morning.

That’s weird, I thought. How is this possible? How come I’m the odd student out? God, what’s going on?

The WAEC official advised me to report the matter to our school principal, at once, before I was totally excluded from the SSCE.

Some of my classmates, who were already seated in the Lab, were staring at me, through the Lab windows, with puzzled expressions – visibly wondering at what the problem was. What the hell was I still doing outside when they were about to commence writing an important paper?

I wish I knew.

I dashed off, worried and muddled, to the principal’s office to register my complaint, just as the Chemistry practical examination kicked off.

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