2. First Day In School

One afternoon. Ma was sitting on the veranda of the house. With Adah's help, she had cooked the afternoon meal and they had both eaten. Ma started to undo her hair, ready to have it re-plaited. Adah had seen her do this a million times and was bored with watching her. There was nothing for her to do, there was nobody to play with, there was not even any mischief to plan. Then the thought suddenly struck her. Yes, she would go to school. She would not go to Ladi-Lak, because Ben was there and they might ask her to pay, it being such an expensive school. She would go to Methodist School round the corner. It was cheaper, her Ma had said that she liked the uniform, most of her friends attended it, and Mr. Cole, the Sierra Leonean neighbor living next door to them, taught there. Yes, she world go there.

Her dress was clean enough, though it was too big, but she thought of something to smarten it up. She went into their room, got an old scarf, twisted it round and round, so much so that it looked like a palm HIM: dimmer's rope, then tied it round her waist, pulling her baggy dress up a little. Other children went to school with slates and pencils. She had none. It would look ridiculous for her to march into a classroom without a slate and pencil. Then another thought struck her. She had always watched Pa shave: Pa has a broken slate on which he usually sharpened a funny sort of curved knife. Adah often watched him do this, fascinated. After sharpening the knife, Pa would rub some carbolic soap lather on his chin and then would shave away. Adah thought of this slate. But the trouble was that it was so small. Just a small piece. It would not take many letters, but a small bit of slate was better than no slate at all. she then slipped it into the top of her dress, knowing fulling well that her scarf-belt would hold it up. Luck was with her, before she left the room, one Ma's innumerable friends came for a visit, and the two women were so engrossed in their chit-chat that they did not notice when Adah slipped past them.

Thus Adah went to school. She ran fast as she could before anyone could stop her. She did not see any of Ma's friends, because it was past midday and very hot; most people were too tired to walk the streets at this time. She got tired running and she stated to trot like a lame horse; tired of trotting, she walked. She was soon at the schoolroom. There were two buildings in the compound. One was the church, and the she had heard from her friends that the church was never used as a classroom. She knew which was the church because, even though she had not started school, she attended Sunday school in the church. With her head up, in determination, she walked down the center looking for Mr. Cole's class. This was easy for her because all the classes were separated from each other by low cardboard-liike partitions. It was easy to see all the classes by simply walking along down their middle.

When she saw Mr. Cole, she walked into his class and stood behind him. The other children looked up from their work and stared at Adah in wonder. At first there was hush, a hush so tangible that one could hold and feel it. Then one silly child started to giggle and the others followed suit, until almost every child in the class was giggling in such an uncontrollable way that Mr. Cole glared at the children who had all gone crazy, for all he knew. Then it happened, the child who started the goggle covered her mouth with one hand and pointed at Adah with the other.

Mr. Cole was a huge African, very young, very handsome, he was a real black man. His blackness shone like polished black leather. He was a very quiet man, but he used to smile at Adah every time he passed her on his way to school. Adah was sure Mr. Cole would give her reassuring smile now, in front of all these giggling idiots, Mr. Cole spun round with such alacrity, that Adah took a step backwards, she was not frightened of Mr. Cole, it was just that the movement was so quick and unexpected of Mr. Cole, with his great bulk. Only God above knew what he expected to find behind him. A big gorilla or a wandering 'masquerade' perhaps. But all he saw was Adah, staring at him.

God bless Mr. Cole. He did not laugh, he took in the situation immediately, gave Adah one of those special smiles, held out his hand and led her to a boy who had craw-craw on his head, and gestured her to sit down. Adah did not know what to make of this gesture. She felt Mr. Cole should have asked her why she came, but being reassured by his smile, she said in her little loud voice:

 "I came to school - my parents would not send me!"

The class went quiet once more, the boy with the craw-craw on his head (he later became a lecturer in Lagos City Hospital) gave her a bit of his pencil, and Adah scribbled away, enjoying the smell of craw-craw and dried sweat. She never forgot this smell of school.

The day ended too soon for Adah's liking. But they must go home, Mr. Cole assured her. Yes, of course she could come again if she liked, but if her parents would not allow her to come he would take it upon himself to teach her the alphabet. If only Mr. Cole would not bring her parents into it. Pa would be all right: he would probably cane her, you know, just a few strokes – six or so, not much – but Ma would nit cane, she would smack and smack, and then nag and nag all day long.

She thought that it was these experiences with Ma so early in life that had given her such a very low opinion of her own sex. Somebody said somewhere that our characters are usually formed early in life. Yes, that somebody was right. Women still made Adah nervous. They had a way of sapping her self-confidence. She did have one or two women friends with whom she discussed the weather, and fashion. But when in real trouble, she would rather look for a man. Men were so solid, so safe.

Mr. Cole took her to the stall of a woman selling 'bolle' which is the Yoruba name for roasted plantain. These women usually had open pots in which they made a kind of coal fire. These fires were covered with wire gauze and on this gauze were placed peeled plantains, ready for roasting. Mr. Cole fed her with a big bolle and told her not to worry about going to school. This conversation was concluded with that assuring smile from Mr. Cole. But when they got home, it was another story; at home things had got out of hand.