Declaration

I sat as I opened the bag, then brought out each uniform - well folded and neatly ironed. I wondered, Who told these people my size? Everything fit perfectly. The clothes I had worn for the last two days, I removed and kept separate. I wanted to throw them away, but I clung to them because I didn't know if they would be the clothes I'd wear back home. So, I just arranged my stuff.

Somebody walked behind me.

Mustafa: "Hey, if you need something, um, look for me. I'll be around to help you."

Me: "Thank you, but who are you? Are you a senior assigned to me?"

Mustafa: "No, no, no. You will be starting from SS2, right?"

Me: "Yes, I guess. But I already finished SS2 and was about to start SS3 before I was sent here."

Mustafa: "Don't worry. You will get used to this place. They don't like allowing people to enter SS3 because they have already trained the SS3 students. They must not make mistakes in their WAEC exam. They have no way of knowing how far you've gone or testing your knowledge. So, you're even lucky. Everybody that comes here starts from SS1. You're the only one who has ever started from SS2 here. Maybe your father is a governor."

For the first time in what seemed like years, I smiled.

Me: "Thank you so much for coming to help me. Please, I'll be needing your help. Don't let me fall into any trouble."

Mustafa: "But my father said you're a very bad boy. That's why your father sent you away to this place. Kai, did you do any bad thing?"

Me: "I guess as time goes by, we will get to know if I am a bad person or about the bad things I've done. But right now, I need you to help me identify which uniform I'm supposed to wear now and what all these uniforms are for."

He came closer to me and started showing me all the uniforms in the bag, explaining what each one was meant for. One was for evenings; it had three pairs to be changed regularly. This was the most common wear when you weren't in school or doing sports. The school uniforms came in three pairs: one resembling military wear for special occasions, the daily school uniform, and one for very special occasions. Then there was sportswear and church wear. The church and mosque wear were the same.

"You're either going to church or the mosque. There's no allowance here for being in neither," he explained. "We're all meant to follow one direction or the other."

When he had finished, I took off my clothes and put on the uniform I was supposed to wear. It fit me so well.

Mustafa: "Kai! Is it my measurement they used to prepare these clothes for you? You and I are almost the same, fa!"

Me: "Wait, did you say your father?"

Mustafa: "Yes, Sergeant Auwal is my father. He's the one who bought all this stuff for you. He just used my measurement, fa. Everything was done just yesterday."

Me: "Wow. Things here must be fast. But my father isn't a governor. He's just an ordinary man."

Mustafa: "Okay, Kuma. There's no problem. Just give yourself time."

That evening, everything went well. I didn't seem to have any trouble, but deep inside, I was wounded and angry - so, so angry.

I began to feel ashamed of myself. I started questioning myself, regretting everything I'd done. I regretted my life. I was asking myself: Why is this feeling inside my body? How come I'm different? Why can't I just be like other people? Why must I behave this way?

And the worst part of all? I did it with Uzo. He went and told his little girlfriend, who told her sister, who then told her husband. My father found out. See how little mistakes go far.

How will I ever face my mother again? How will I ever call my father?

I didn't even know how to reach out to them. How will my younger brother look up to me again - my little brother, who loved and respected me? When he hears what I've done, how will he see me?

That night, as I slept, I couldn't move on the bed. I was crying, but I didn't make a sound. It was a big dormitory filled with boys - big boys and small boys.

I knew my life had changed. I was in a new environment, and whatever emotions I showed on my face would linger long. I didn't even sniff the air. I just cried in silence, trying my best not to make a noise.

What scared me the most was the thought of my brothers hating me. I loved them so much, and I didn't want them to hate me.

The Next Day

The next day was even tougher than the day I arrived, but I didn't show any sign of weakness. I just flowed, as if I was used to it. I didn't want anyone asking me questions, pointing fingers, or thinking, He's the new boy. I didn't want to cross anyone's mind. I just wanted everything to go fine and well.

The day began early. Wake-up time was 4:30 a.m. We got up and had to run around the field. Everybody here had a peculiar shape - we all looked alike: slim boys. There wasn't a single fat boy in this academy because of all the exercise we did. From 4 a.m. to 5:15, we ran around the field. Then we returned to the dorms, prepared ourselves, and got ready for class. Assembly started at 6:30.

After the assembly, we had breakfast, came back, and then headed to class.

The school was run by both civilian and military personnel. Most of our teachers were civilians, but the heads of departments and those in charge of everything were military personnel. It was a nice place, but I didn't want to feel the shame of starting SS2 from the first term again.

Luckily for me, the subjects were all things I had learned before. In just two weeks, I became the best in class.

One afternoon, Sergeant Auwal called for me.

Sergeant: "Young man, how are you?"

Me: "I am good, sir."

Sergeant: "I want to bring it to your notice that I've observed your behavior in this school since you arrived. You've shown no sign of bad behavior or reluctance to do your work. You wake up early in the morning to join the others in sports. You make sure to read your books and do your assignments. I've been waiting for people to report bad things about you so I can discipline you the way your father wanted, but nothing has happened. Seems like your bad-boy behavior disappeared."

Me: "Sorry, sir, but I am not the bad boy."

Sergeant: "Kai, shut up your mouth! If you're not a bad boy, why did your father send you here, eh?"

Me: "I'm sorry."

Sergeant: "Let me warn you. I don't know what you're hiding or how you plan to continue your bad-boy behavior here, but it won't work. Do you hear me?"

Me: "Yes, I hear you."

Sergeant: "And be very careful about the people you're hanging out with. Even my son, Mustapha - be careful of him too. He's a very bad boy. I'll tell you the truth, he's my son, but he's a bad boy. Make sure you know your way around him. Don't come crying to me one day."

Me: "Yes, sir. Yes, sir."

Sergeant: "Look, the world is a very hard place. No father hates his son. Your father sent you here not because he hates you, but because he wants the best for you. I sent my son here for the same reason. In this life, life is not easy for a man. A man has to learn the hard way to get to the easy way. Because if you start from the easy way, walai, the hard way will be too much for you. Do you understand?"

Me: "Yes, I understand, sir."

Sergeant: "Good. Take care of yourself."

Once again, in front of another adult, I wasn't allowed to express myself. I was always seen as the bad boy. But deep down, I knew I wasn't. I knew the truth. But because I was just a teenage boy, no one would listen. Everyone thought they knew better.

Just now, this man condemned me without even knowing me. But I didn't blame anyone. The little happiness I had was that my father hadn't spread the bad news here. If he had, I wondered what they'd have done to me in this school of over 2,800 boys. How could I walk past all of them every day if they knew my secret?

I tried my best to hide my face and avoid others, but it wasn't easy.

That day, after talking with Sergeant Auwal, I went about my routine, thinking about my life. By this point, I'd been in the academy for two months and was used to the routines. I minded my own business, worked alone, and avoided joining cliques or gangs.

When I had nothing to do, I looked for Mustapha. Whenever he realized I needed company, he'd abandon whatever he was doing and spend time with me. I wanted to appreciate him. Sometimes, I wanted to hug him and share a boy's joy with him. But no, I couldn't. That was exactly what had gotten me here in the first place.

Later on, it was visiting day - one of the days boys in the school looked forward to. Visiting days, mid-term breaks, and holidays were the moments everyone cherished. Parents came in with food and drinks from home, bringing meat and other goodies for their kids.

I sat in the classroom, watching from the window as everyone enjoyed themselves on the field with their parents. I knew nobody would come for me. I wasn't expecting anyone. I didn't even know if I had done something bad.

Not even my uncle, who was in Abuja, came. Nobody called. Nobody came.

Gradually, I began to feel rejected. I began to hate myself gently. I didn't understand what was happening. It was all becoming so overwhelming.

But despite the rejection, I found a little love within me - a resolve to be the best I could be. I didn't let myself down.

That visiting day came and went. And, as I expected, nobody came for me.

The Second Visiting Day

The second visiting day was one I had eagerly anticipated. Even though nobody came for me on the first, I felt strongly that someone would come this time. I pressed and ironed my clothes meticulously, ensuring they were crisp and neat. I even wrote down a few lines on a piece of paper, intending to tell my father that I had changed and was ready for his forgiveness.

But nobody came.

The feeling of rejection hit me harder this time. Gradually, I began to loathe who I was, the person I had become. I hated the feeling inside my body - the confusion, the sadness, the longing.

When the third visiting day arrived, and still no one came, it finally sank in: I had been completely rejected by my family.

I didn't know what to do anymore. It felt like I was utterly alone in the world. My thoughts became a whirlwind of longing and despair. I wanted so badly to hear from my brothers, to hug my mom. Even though my father was a scary man, I yearned to look him in the eyes and embrace him.

But my tears betrayed me.

At night, I cried silently, soaking my bed with tears. By morning, anyone who didn't know me would think I had wet the bed. But no, those weren't signs of childish accidents. They were tears - tears of regret, pain, anguish, and repentance.

I wished Uzo had never moved into our compound. I wished I had never met him. I wished he had never entered my life.

Waiting for Results

We had finished our first-term examinations, and as we waited for the results, the school atmosphere became chaotic. Classes had stopped, and we spent our days idling - shouting, playing, and returning to the hostel hungry.

One afternoon, Mustapha approached me and said his father wanted to see me.

Panic set in. My mind raced as I reviewed my daily routine, ensuring I hadn't done anything to warrant trouble. Reluctantly, I followed him to Sergeant Auwal's office.

As soon as we arrived, the sergeant handed me his phone.

Sergeant: "Someone wants to speak with you. Hold on, they'll call back soon."

I almost rejected the phone out of fear. I wanted to hand it back, but I didn't want to appear disrespectful. So I waited, bracing myself. I prepared my voice, ready to lash out in anger if it was my father or mother, ready to tell them never to call me again.

When the call came, the number was unfamiliar. I answered hesitantly, and as soon as I heard their voices, my heart melted.

Obi: "Hello, hello, big bro! How are you?"

Me: "I'm fine, I'm fine. How are you doing?"

Obi: "I'm good! It's nice to hear from you. How's everything? How's your new school?"

Me: "It's fine, it's fine. I'm fine. How's Eke?"

Obi: "He's fine. He's here too."

Eke: "Hello, brother!"

Hearing my youngest brother's voice sank deep into my soul. A tear escaped my eye, betraying the strong front I had been holding.

Me: "How are you?"

Eke: "I'm fine. How are you? Are you okay?"

Me: "Yes, I'm good now that I hear your voice."

Obi: "Bro, it's nice to hear from you ooo! How's the North? Hope they're not feeding you too much kuli-kuli!"

Me: laughs "No, no. They haven't given me that."

Obi: "Don't mind Aunty Angela, spreading bad news. She said it was Uzo's friend who told her stuff about you. She went to tell Daddy. It's not fair. We even borrowed Uzo's phone to call you!"

Me: "Wow, okay. How's Mom and Dad?"

Obi: "They're fine."

Me: "So how did you get this number?"

Obi: "We heard Daddy calling Sergeant Auwal every time to ask about you. So one day, we took his phone, copied the sergeant's number, and called him. We told him we wanted to speak with you."

Me: "That's a big risk you took. Thank you so much. I've been thinking about both of you."

Eke: "Brother, I miss you ooo!"

Me: "I miss you too, little brother. Don't worry, I'll see you soon."

Eke: "Brother, Obi isn't helping me with my homework ooo!"

Me: "Eh, Obi, is that true?"

Obi: "Brother, don't mind him!"

Me: "Obi, you're 14 now, and he's just 12. Take care of him, okay? I don't know when I'll see you, but I'll call you whenever I can."

Obi: "Okay, bro. Hold on, Uzo wants to speak with you."

As soon as I heard Uzo's name, I switched off the phone. I handed it back to the sergeant and told him I was done with the call.

Mustapha, curious, teased me on the way back to the hostel.

Mustapha: "Kai, is that your boyfriend who called you?"

Me: "They're my brothers, Mustapha. How can they be my boyfriends?"

Mustapha: "I don't know. I'm just asking!"

I shook my head and walked on. Even amidst this small spark of joy, the weight of my reality remained heavy.

Me: "Get out of here! Ask something better, not useless questions."

Mustapha: "Well, did my father tell you that I'm a bad boy too?"

Me: "Yes, he did. Why does he go about telling people that? What bad thing did you do?"

Mustapha: "I'll tell you as soon as you tell me your own."

I laughed at his intelligence.

Mustapha: "You know everyone in this college has a name, right? And you haven't yet had yours up until now."

Me: "Do you have a name for me, or do you want me to name myself?"

Mustapha: "Shebi your name is Emeka?"

Me: "Yes."

Mustapha: "And some people are already calling you Mustapha's boy."

Me: "That's not true! That's a lie! Nobody is calling me that. You just made that up."

He smiled.

Mustapha: "From now, your name is going to be M-Boy."

Me: "No matter what. Doesn't matter. Yeah, whatever you say it is, that's what it is."

How foolish I was, even without knowing it. That's how my name in that school became "M-Boy" until I graduated.

I loved spending time with Mustapha, and we began to bond really well. We were put in the same class and shared interests in almost everything, though we still had many differences. After the call with my younger brothers, I discovered new things within me. I began to work hard to improve myself.

I tried twice as hard in sports, more than anyone else on the field. I joined every necessary team and became outstanding in some. I received so many awards.

During the holidays, I spent all my time in the far North with Mustapha and his mother, as his father rarely got holidays. I didn't even visit my uncle's house in Abuja.

As time passed, I changed - not just in my perception of things but also in my physique. My body grew; I added more weight, became taller and more muscular, with a well-defined six-pack. By the time I became an SS3 student, expectations were high, not just academically but also in sports. I became a striker, pouring all my energy and focus into football.

First Visiting Day as an SS3 Student

After a year of being used to not having visitors, someone told me that my father's brother - my uncle who lived in Abuja - had come to see me with his wife. They had brought some things for me. The messenger was surprised to see that I wasn't happy or showing any excitement.

"Please go and tell them I'm not around," I said.

The boy was shocked. No one ever turned away visitors, especially in a school that felt like a big prison yard. Seeing someone from outside was a glimpse of hope, something that brought joy to others. But for me, it was nonsense.

When the boy delivered the message, I watched from the window as my uncle reacted with disbelief. Determined, he even involved the sergeant, who sent military men to search for me.

That day, I acted like the "bad boy" they called me. I hid in various locations - in the toilet, then in the bushes. Despite their thorough search, they couldn't find me.

My uncle left, disappointed, worried, and ashamed. Other parents began to whisper, wondering why a child would refuse to meet their visitor. Something must be wrong, they concluded.

Feeling slightly guilty, I later learned that my uncle had left the items he brought with someone to hand over to me.

Punishment in the Guardroom

That evening, I was charged to the commander's guardroom for absconding and going AWOL.

That night wasn't funny. I was made to stand in the cold and ride an "air bicycle" until 3 a.m., watched closely by guards.

Around 3:15 a.m., wearing the rubber watch that Mustapha had given me, I saw his father emerge with a stern expression, expecting me to break down in tears. But I had grown used to the punishments and suffering. Nothing was new to me anymore.

Sergeant: "So you've been deceiving us all this while, kwo? We thought you were a good boy and had learned your lesson. But the day your uncle comes, you show him you're the bad boy you've always been from your house!"

If there's one lesson I've learned in these life-changing times, it's never to argue with an adult, especially when they've made up their minds about you. They will always believe they're right, and you'll always be wrong.

So I kept quiet, letting them think and do whatever they wanted.

Sergeant: "After all this time, Kai! Tell me, why did you behave like that? The man has only come here to pay you a visit. He traveled all the way from Abuja. He is family!"

Me: "He is not my family, and I don't want to see him."

Sergeant: "Kai, shut up your mouth! Do you know what it means to have a family? Families are not easy to come by nowadays. When we have family, we have everything. I know you are angry, little man, but it's been over a year. You're supposed to forget all of those things and move on with your life. Listen to me, it's not good to carry grudges for too long. Learn to let some things go, fa. Ka ji kwo?"

Me: "Eh."

Sergeant: "I see that Mustapha is teaching you plenty Hausa. That's very good. Now go inside and eat the food they brought."

I didn't allow him to finish and spoke my mind.

Me: "Sir, please, I don't want it - anything they brought. Just please find a way to send it back to them. The food, you can share it with others or give it to the security men at the gate. But I don't want anything at all from them. Please also let them know they should not come again, because if they do, I will abscond again."

The sergeant was surprised. He saw the determination in my eyes. This was clearly not just about being disrespectful - it was deeper. He realized that whatever had happened had hurt me deeply, tearing me apart. Inside, I had cut myself off and made a firm, unshakable decision.

Sergeant: "I see you. I see you now. But you cannot hate everybody in the whole world for what they've done to you. You can only be mad for some time. Make sure you don't push away the people who love you. You can go inside."

As I walked, I stumbled twice. When I reached the edge of the building, I almost fell, but Mustapha caught me and hugged me. He had been outside all this time, waiting for me. He hadn't even gone to his room to sleep.

Mustapha: "Kai, you are a strong boy."

Me: "How long have you been outside here? Your body is cold."

Mustapha: "I've been here since your punishment started. I've been watching you."

Me: "This boy, don't get into trouble because of me. How could you wait the whole night looking out for me? What if they catch you? How will you defend yourself?"

Mustapha: "You don't even want to know the story of why I was called a bad boy. But again, I won't tell you my story if you don't tell me yours."

Me: "You mean my story?"

Mustapha: "Hi, this man, leave me alone! Leave my English alone."

Me: "Haha!"

That early morning, as we walked back to the hostel, we knew there was no point in trying to sleep since the bugle for morning assembly would soon blow. We enjoyed each other's company, sitting outside in the chilling Harmattan breeze and watching the sky.

That day, I discovered I could share a deep bond with someone without any romantic or sexual intentions. As we sat there, I placed my arm around Mustapha's neck, pulling him close. Both of us gazed at the sky.

I didn't know what was on his mind, but I knew in my heart that I had made a decision: I was going to be a straight boy.

By Whiteman Michael

Morals

Pain is a hard thing to let go of, but it's necessary for growth. Holding onto pain too long can destroy us and lead to our downfall.

A child should not be abandoned, especially when they've done something wrong. That's when they need their parents the most. Punishment is good, but pushing a child away can cause lasting harm.

Imagine if, after committing an offense, God stopped talking to you. How would you feel? Parents are the first "gods" children see. Be mindful of your actions.

Finding a friend may not be hard, but keeping one is the real challenge.

Learn to forgive, embrace your family, and confront your past.

In a new environment, don't isolate yourself. Engage with others, even if it's by watching sports or finding someone to talk to. Learn to be a follower to grow into a good leader.