Adolf Hitler meh, Muammar Gadaffi who? I raise you Oligbo! For the first time in my brief history, I witnessed a wrestling bout between a hostel warden and a student. An Oligbo masterclass. The hostel warden and Oligbo had a spat and in passing, Oligbo called him a bastard, bear in mind this was towards the end of the second term. For some reason, the hostel warden didn’t react, to my amazement.
Fast forward to after the holidays, we’d just resumed for the third term. I noticed that this particular hostel warden kept coming to our room to check if Oligbo had resumed school. When Oligbo eventually resumed (about two weeks after resumption because, why not?), a few nights afterward, he was attacked. The hostel warden came for him.
“You called me a bastard right?”
“A whole me, you looked at me and called me a bastard!”
I’m laughing so much I’m nearly crying, it took him the entire holidays to pick up a dictionary to search for what the word meant.
With a stocky frame, he was indeed stubborn. It was a herculean task to dissuade him from executing whatever he set out to do. When he’s in the mood to play football which is somewhat of a rarity, he’d show up on the pitch and decide he’ll just join one side regardless of whether or not the teams are balanced. At this point, both teams have to gather and plead with him to wait for his turn.
Sometimes when we didn’t have a football we just go to the pitch to maybe watch. This one time we go to the pitch as usual and Oligbo goes, “We don’t have to just sit and watch, we’re the seniors”. So he collects the ball from our juniors, chooses a brand new set of teams and asks those who weren’t selected to hang around the pitch to pick up the ball when it ran out of play. Division of labor.
Discipline. One day our Economics teacher was mad at everyone for not doing an assignment. He set out to flog the entire class. Usually, we send the strongest people forward to gauge how painful the strokes will be. Oligbo steps up first, and as the second stroke came down, he flinched, then turned around and started to plead with the teacher. I immediately made a dash for the exit, if Oligbo can’t dust these strokes, why am I still here? Adios, see ya!
In the boarding house, the dining tables are mixed to accommodate seniors and juniors alike. Wednesdays are “turkey days” and one of those Wednesdays, Oligbo and I arrived late to the dining. When we eventually got there, we discovered that there wasn’t any food left on our table. Long story short, members of that table didn’t eat chicken or turkey for weeks to come. Oligbo even extended the penance to bread loaves, if we got served four loaves of bread on the table, Oligbo and I were entitled to one each as Supreme Leaders.
Catcalling. After dinner, it’s time to head to prep. Unfortunately for the females, they had to pass our own prep block before heading to theirs. We’d finish eating early and quickly run upstairs so we can scream the names of girls as they pass. Juvenile delinquents. Of course, Oligbo led the session.
“Hey! FINE GIRL! Ada! It’s me, I’m talking to you. I love you!!! Shake your waist! Ehen! Ehen!”
The girl is so flustered, she has to almost run till she’s out of sight and then we just move on to the next victim.
As with all heists, one day you’re bound to get caught. Oligbo and I got into big trouble and our parents were invited to the principal’s office. Only my dad shows up and he’s quite visibly angry. He completely throws me under the bus and asks that whatever punishment the school decides is fine by him. Oligbo’s mom didn’t show up, the principal placed a call through to her and her response took me out!
“Heck no! there’s no way on God’s green earth I’m having him back. What do you mean he’s suspended? That’s your cup of tea, it’s your turn to have him and I’m simply not taking him back just yet, period”.
I’m lying on the floor listening like wow, I’m really friends with a criminal.
For all troubled misunderstood bullies out there, thanks for the entertainment. The show must go on. As for Oligbo, he’s a man now and all of this is in the past.
Or is it?
© Gottfried. All rights reserved.