In secondary school, I repeated SS1 class while my mates proceeded to SS2 confidently and happily.
To make matters worse, my younger sister was in JSS3 while I was in the first SS1 so she caught up with me in SS1 again and we became classmates and seatmates.
It pained me eheeeeeen because this was the same girl I used to flog and order around with my “yeye” seniority status in the society when life was good to me.
Chaiiiii….it is not like I failed an examination to warrant a repetition o. My dad relocated us to a new school and the new management said, they do not admit people straight into penultimate classes like JS2 or SS2 because they do not trust the foundation that the old school dug inside the life of the transferred student.
At first, I was happy with the new school but when the excitement of relocation died down, I became bitter and regretful that I was demoted to SS1 to share class with my younger sister. On a good day calls me Sis Abigael while kneeling to greet me with respect at home.
In class, she automatically started calling me Abigael and slamming my name on my forehead.
That was not such a big deal. I was okay with her calling my name without the sister kinikan addition. I didn’t want my classmates to join her in calling me Aunty or Sister that will make me look like their ancestor or ancient days.
Honestly, being in the same class with her put some pressure on me physically and mentally because I wanted to prove a point.
I wanted to maintain my big sister status and not rub the knowledge that I gathered in the previous class inside an invisible mud.
I wanted everyone to know and accept that I repeated the class not because of a lack of intelligence but because of life circumstances that placed me where my control is beyond😒😒😒
During our first term examination, the first result that was released was Biology script. I scored 82 while my sister scored 75. When I collected my own script, I burst into serious tears that can fill up a 2kg bottle.
I cried till my eyes were swollen because I wanted to dust my sister’s score and leave no mistaken space or gap for comparison.
My sister and classmates were scared with the magnitude of my tears and they went to report me to our class teacher. I was summoned to the staff room alongside with the script that caused my tears.
After much probing, I finally opened up to our class teacher that I was crying because I wanted to get 100/100 to prove a point to the world but now, I did not meet my target.
With serious tears like someone that lost her birthright to Jacob’s porridge, I continually lamented in that my Ogbomoso funny drama style.
I should have read more!
I should have read more and more!
I should have read more, more and more!
The teacher gave me a bottle of malt and asked me to stop crying so we can talk. Amidst my occasional hiccups, I drank the malt to regain my lost energy before he even said any word to my big head.
He asked what if my sister gains admission before me…will I kill her or stop Jamb from giving her the admission?
I said No and shrugged my shoulders vehemently.
He said what if she gets a husband before I even see anyone say “fine girl what is your genotype” to me will I poison her and the boy?
I said Noooooo and calmed down a bit.
He asked what if she buys a house or car while I don’t have the luxury of life’s goodness at that time, will I tell her to surrender the receipts or certificates to me?
I said NO SIR and bowed my head in shame. His compassionate and fatherly feedback to the different questions made me burst into hot tears that shook my whole body. After I cried to my satisfaction, he asked me to go and ponder on the lessons I have learned from our discussion.
That conversation changed the trajectory of my unhealthy competition mindset, sibling rivalry, and jealousy that wanted to consume my life.