Chapter Seven

The following day, during break, just as Tariebi had said, she took the ten regular SS3 students for a tour. She wanted them to feel the pain of living in this kind of place; thereby they would have the motivation of thinking of ways to build a beautiful future for themselves instead of waiting on Shell and the Federal Government who for years have done nothing.

 'Hope you all are wearing your boots?' Tariebi asked, leading the way. She was wearing a blue-coloured jumpsuit, black boots, and her hair was tied up in a messy bun.

The students replied in unison. 'Yes, Aunty Tariebi.' 

 'Where is Bola?' Tariebi glanced around. 'Okay. Here you are.' Seeing him, she turned forward, and continued on the journey. 

Bola rolled his eyes at Tariebi's back, hating the fact that he was on this journey. Just then, he saw a young boy hawking roasted plantain. 

'How much for a slice of plantain?' Bola asked the boy who was dressed in torn shorts and a faded shirt. Glancing around he saw other hawkers in hole-ridden shorts which were just as worn out as their faded shirts. He looked back at the young boy he called to buy roasted plantain from and asked, 'How much for all of them?' Was Bola being sympathetic? Or was he trying to show off as usual?

 'Just give me five hundred naira,' the boy pleaded. 'My mother is sick. I need to buy her medicine. Your money will help us a lot.' 

Bola said nothing as he took out his new white high-end wallet and said, 'I want all of them. You can keep the change.' He handed the one thousand naira note to the boy and he wrapped all the plantain in a bag. 

 'Gas flaring has affected everything. Our crops, plantain are not doing well again,' he said to Bola.

 'Do you need some hazard allowance?' Bola asked. This time he wasn't sounding rude but gentle. 

The boy smiled and said instead, 'Thank you, sir...I'm grateful for the money.' Happily he ran back home, perhaps to buy medicine for his sick mother. 

Bola took a slice of plantain and ate. Then, he offered some to the students. Some accepted the plantain while some refused to eat. Those who didn't eat the plantain were still mad at him for being rude to Tariebi. They wanted him to apologise to their teacher. But it seems Bola is stubborn and proud. Would he change after this tour? Maybe, he would or would not.

 Bola took his Eva bottle water from his bag, and drank from it. He caught Abinla's gaze and she immediately looks away, cursing at him. 

'Your hair needed to be plaited,' Bola said. 'I will take you to the women who plait hair in the market, ' he laughed, as he reached out to touch her hair but Abinla's piercing gaze stopped him mid-air. 'Your hair is starting to slip out of the twists. I just need to run my hands over your loosening braids and remind you that you won't be accepted in paradise with that hair of yours.' 

Abinla rolled her eyes at him and said nothing. 

 'Oh, I really miss the sweet-smelling rain,' Bola said when it began drizzling. 'I just hate the smell of this one.' He wrinkled his nose. 

 'Our place was once green and clean,' Tariebi said when they stopped to see a once prosperous farm now cloaked in oil. 'Almost every day we hear of oil spill but nothing is done to clean the mess. Before, we had clean water,' she said as they continued, pointing at the damaged water. 'But now, we can't even boast of good drinking water. Fishermen spend the whole day without catching any fish...'

'One of the most diverse ecosystems in Africa is now at risk,' Abinla added. 

 'This is what happens when you pay too much attention in school,' Bola chuckled, taking a bite of another slice of his plantain. 

 'Due to gas flaring our air is now filled with pollutants, which has created acid rain.' Abinla glanced over at Bola, her gaze descended on the roasted plantain in his hand. 'These must have been contaminated.' 

 'I didn't need them anymore,' Bola said, tossing the remaining plantain into the bush. 

Abinla laughed at him. 'That serves you right.' 

 'After this trip, Bola's stony heart will melt,' a girl said, fiddling with her fingers as she looked ahead at the group of old women coming towards them. They seem frustrated with the way they walked. They were all carrying their farm tools, and dressed in their farm dress.