You ever look at someone and wonder at how they’ve survived this long-living the way they have? Then you know how it is with Davies. His parents missed a trick by not naming him “survivor” like your typical Igbo parents. He is a modern-day “cyborg” with a beating heart and blood running through his veins or at least some veins. Different gravy.
I changed school in the Senior Secondary stage of my education and I was lucky to share a class with him. Davies wore an exoskeleton because of some issues with his back, the nerve cells on his left hand had all stopped functioning meaning he didn’t experience feeling on that whole arm, he suffers astigmatism, hence prescription glasses. I dunno how, but he has issues with his voice box and as such, he croaks. Last but not least, his hairline is receding which is fascinating, such a young bald man! Oh, and he is also incredibly short.
Despite all these obvious limitations, this guy is the most spirited human being I have ever met. The back injury didn’t stop him from being a not too excellent goalkeeper. He did put his body on the line, one too many times. His fragile frame meant he was destined to enter into all kinds of trouble. He kept pushing his body to limits even I didn’t think were humanly possible, how much more an individual of his present state and condition.
In class, he was an absolute nuisance, who got blamed for any and everything. Who farted? Davies! Who refused to call the teacher about a class? Davies! Who told you do not submit assignments anymore? Davies! Why are we experiencing global warming? Davies! Like a lamb to the slaughter, he was not spared. I noticed this and took it upon myself to take him under my wing. It was huge for Davies and he totally warmed up to me. We became the best of pals that period.
The only Achilles in his heel was that he was incredibly shy when it came to talking to girls. I remember him asking me, dude why are you so comfortable around females, how’d you do it? I gave him advice which I think is still relevant today. I told him, these girls you see, are more scared of talking to you than you are of talking to them. It worked like magic. Did it get him a girlfriend? No, but at least he was in the chase. Till this day, the search continues.
Massing. If you’re familiar with typical male hostels in secondary school. Massing is basically a group of boys rounding up another boy albeit unknown to the victim and beating him up. This happens usually in the dead of the night. Your eyebrows are decorated with toothpaste, you’re folded carefully into your bedsheet before they proceed to hit you with belts, shoes, hangers and the likes. Scary right? Of course.
No guessing who was the ring leader of the Massing group. No, not me, Davies! My job was to keep track of who was massed and who did the massing to ensure that, what goes around, comes around. As you’d expect, one day his cup was full and he was to be massed. I asked the group, are you sure this is what you want, blood on your hands? Of course, they ignored me and went ahead with massing Davies. And guess what? The psychopath absolutely enjoyed it. He was all fired up for whose turn was next.
They really don’t make them like Davies anymore. Till this day he’s the closest I’ve come to having a best friend (My brother deputizes every now and then). This man is compassionate with a wonderful heart. He is to die for (ladies…wink wink). He has long retired from the high-risk lifestyle and chosen something more conservative in Website designing which he’s really good at. If you’re into a croaky raspy voice though, he’s definitely your guy.
The legend lives on.