Ifenna’s Diaries by Ifunanya Odinka
Synopsis
New to Phoenix Academy, Ifenna Ifediora faces a losing battle with peer pressure and bullies. Not only that, she has to cope with academic burdens –a struggle she is already losing. She also faces lots of struggles at home; she fights to gain the approval of her father, regain the love of her mother and earn the acceptance of her siblings. In all these, her battle with low self esteem is epic. As if these were not enough, a nagging voice in her head would not stop telling her to take her life. It was looking more and more like the best idea as days went by. It would end all the sufferings or at least make everyone else see how wrong they have been treating her. After looking at all the wrong places for love, one she had been blind to beckons louder and if she would only embrace it and accept it as love in its purest form, it would be her chance to a life of peace and success. Will she?
1
The early morning sun shone bright and hard, sweat trickled down my face and my armpit became moist as I hurried along the street not minding where I placed my feet as long as I was walking.
“I can’t believe I missed the school bus on my first day at my new school,” I said to myself, attracting looks from passersby. My father had insisted that I wait for my brother to accompany me to school, but I declined, as he was taking forever to get ready. I kept trudging on, ignoring looks from other pedestrians. Okada men kept honking, trying to get my attention in an effort to get passengers in the morning rush hour. Finally I got to the bus stop.
“Agip junction, Mile 3, Mile 1,” the bus conductor shouted in his hoarse voice looking in my direction.
“Agip junction, Mile 3, Mile 1,” he repeated as I approached the bus.
“Sista you dey go?” he asked me, when I got close enough.
“Yes I dey go,” I said to him stepping into the bus. Two more passengers came in and the bus filled up.
“Make una hold una change ooh,” the bus conductor said, as he sandwiched himself in the space between the first seat and the front seat, “abeg now na morning, I no get change ooh.”.
I checked my school bag to confirm if the money my dad gave me was still intact, I usually do this anytime I board a commercial vehicle to avoid any sort of embarrassment.
I tried to recall the directions my brother gave me. Board a bus to Agip junction, cross over to the other side of the road and board another bus going to Rumuokoro round about, then you cross over to the left side of the road and board a taxi going to east-west road, tell the taxi driver that you will stop at Phoenix Academy he yelled, while still in shower.
I made a mental calculation of how long it was going to take me to get to school, about thirty minutes if there was no traffic jam. This was an area of Port-Harcourt which I was not very familiar with, but I knew all I needed to do was to stick to the direction my brother gave me.
Forty minutes later, I stood at the entrance of my new school. I was let in after I verified I was a student by showing my ID. My new school Phoenix Academy, which is located at the outskirts of Port-Harcourt, encompasses several acres of land. The school field which comprised of a Volley ball court, Lawn tennis court surrounded by a barbed wire fence, running tracks, and two sturdy monkey-goal posts on opposite sides and a spectator’s arena is on the right side of the school field. The driveway had a demarcation with flowers planted on each side of the driveway.
The magnificent school building with its white paint is a two storied building situated at the middle of the school compound, with the school farm behind it. I walked into the reception area which held three cream colored couches, a three seater, a two seater and a one seater. I was welcomed by the receptionist whose name I later learned was Mr. Patrick. He directed me to the Vice Principal (academics) office where I was given a form to tick my preferred subjects which I would offer in school after presenting my bank teller. As a Science student, I chose; Further Math’s, Mathematics, English Language, Physics, Biology, Technical Drawing, Food and Nutrition, Economics and Computer Science, which earned me a place in S.S.3A. I was then directed to the bookshop where I was given my books according to the subjects I chose, but when I went for my uniforms, I couldn’t find any that fit so I was asked to come back the following week as they were expecting a new batch then. Next I was directed to the accountant who issued a receipt after collecting the teller from me, and then he took me to my class.
Gbam. Gbam. Gbam. Gbam.
Someone whom I guessed was the class prefect banged on his desk, the entire class got up and greeted in unison, “Good morning, Sir.”
“Good morning class, you may sit now. We have a new student in class, Please introduce yourself to your classmates,” he said to me, swinging his arms from me towards the entire class like a bird in flight.
“Good morning everyone,” I began, “My name is Ifenna Ifediora.” I finished in a hurry, scarcely looking up.
“My name is Dennis Amachree.” the boy sitting on the first seat at the entrance of the class started, “but you can call me boy D,” he said, bowing his head in mock salute.
I could barely recall any name as I was too shy to meet their eyes, so I couldn’t say which name belonged to whom.
The school morning devotion is a norm in any typical Nigerian school. At my new school Phoenix Academy, the school hall where the morning devotion was usually held was extremely large, the largest I have ever seen in any school, larger than that of my former school and even larger than that of the Holy Cross College, where the Kids and Teen camp meeting which was being organized by my church annually was held some years back.
“Can we all rise for the national anthem,” the Chapel prefect’s voice rang out in a sing-song pattern, echoing in the large hall.
“Arise O compatriots…” The sound of hundreds of voices echoed and reverberated through the walls of the school hall, with backs standing so straight. I wished for it to continue when it was over.
“J.S.S 1 to your classrooms, J.S.S 2 to your classrooms…” The chapel prefect continued calling out various classes, to your classrooms. She kept yelling causing a vein on her neck to become visible.
As we all filled the passageway hurrying into our classrooms, somewhere at the back; far right corner of the hall, the school prefects were flogging late comers. The school bell rang indicating time for the first learning period for the day.
“Excuse me., excuse me.” Someone tapped my shoulder from behind.
“What does this person want?” I thought to myself, rolling my eyes. I turned to look and was engulfed in an embrace by a boy I didn’t know, his perfume tickled my nose almost making me sneeze into his shirt and I almost asked if he used the entire bottle of the perfume.
“Hi. I’m Philip, welcome to our school,” he said after letting me out of his embrace.
“Hello,” I replied, stepping back to take a good look at him and too shy to speak further. Fair skinned, tall, lanky looking but handsome with a good set of teeth.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Ifenna.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” I hurried off to my seat, not bothering to shake hands with him.
“Philip, Philip.”
I heard someone hail him.
“Philip the sharp guy.” the voice hailed again.
I turned to look; it was a dark skinned girl. Not tall, pretty looking, wearing a mini skirt. I later knew her name to be Tola Brown. She smacked Philip on his back and ran away saying, “Now na still morning ooh.”
This got the entire class laughing like the hyenas in Lion King. I pretended to be immersed in the book on my desk and didn’t see the teacher come in.
Gbam. Gbam. Gbam. Gbam. The class prefect banged on the desk, announcing the presence of a teacher.
“Good morning, sir,” we said in unison, rising to our feet.
“Good morning, class,” Mr. Nduka the English teacher replied, flipping through the English Textbook, without looking up. “You may sit down. Open your English textbooks to page 50, unit 4. Hey you. The new girl, stand up, what’s your name?”
“My name is Ifenna Ifediora,” I replied as I rose slowly to my feet.
“Read the comprehension for us.”
“The Forest of a Thousand Baboons,” I read the title with a shaky voice. “c..cli..sh. clash,” I stammered, when I came across a word I was not familiar with.
“Hold on,” Mr. Nduka said, holding up his forefinger. Walking over to the board, he wrote down the word in capital letters; CLICHÉ.
“Ifenna, how many syllable does that word have?”
“One,” I said.
“Can you pronounce that word again?”
“Clish.” I repeated.
The entire class erupted in laughter, with Tola laughing the hardest.
“Who can help us pronounce that word better?” Mr. Nduka asked, looking round the class for any volunteers.
Several hands were raised, but the English teacher chose Tola Brown to answer the question. Tola got up, “Sir, it’s pronounced CLI-CHE and it is a two syllabic word.”
“Well done, Tola, you may sit down. Please a round of applause for her”.
Despite how prodigious the hall was, I couldn’t find an empty seat during the morning devotion. I patrolled the rows of seats where I noticed my classmates usually sat, until I found an open spot beside Tola.
“Hi Tola. Please, can I sit beside you?”
She pretended she didn’t hear me, and started to chew on her nails.
I ignored her rude behavior and asked again, “Please can I sit beside you?”
She made a show of how busy she was observing her nails. Finally she looks at me, “Nope.”
“Please?”
“Nope, if you must know, this seat is reserved for someone more intelligent than you, I don’t mingle with low class, dense people.”
I walked away stunned. I joined a group of junior students, who were leaning on the wall, I ran my fingers on the wall testing if the paint will stain my uniform before leaning on the wall.
Few minutes later, I noticed a junior girl walk by and Tola offered her the seat she refused me, turning to look at me, she flashed her teeth in an effort to annoy me further.
Mr. Bernard the Math’s teacher was a lean man, average height, bald with skin the color of overripe mango. He was also a fast talker; you had to listen keenly to understand what he teaches.
“Today’s topic is Quadratic Equations,” he began. He walked over to the board and scribbled some mathematical formula.
x=−b±b2−4ac−−−−−−−√2ax=−b±b2−4ac2a
“This is the quadratic formula for the roots of the general quadratic equation,” he explained. “Everyone copy that formula, I’m going to dictate a note for you in two minutes.”
I had barely finished copying the formula down when he started dictating.
“In algebra, a quadratic equation is any equation having the form
ax^2+bx+c=0.ax^2+bx+c=0.
Where x represents an unknown, and a, b, and c represent known numbers such that a is not equal to 0. If a = 0, then…”
Mr. Bernard rambled on, making me feel drowsy, all the fast talk causing a headache. I suppressed a yawn and tried to keep my eyes open, at least pretend that I’m listening.
“Ifenna Ifediora,” Mr. Nduka raised his voice in anger, startling me awake. I stared sheepishly.
“Why are you sleeping in my class?” He asked.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Sorry for yourself, stand up. Give me another name for Consonant Blends.’”
“I don’t know, Sir.”
“How will you know, when you were sleeping? Who can answer that question?”
Several hands were in the air eager to answer the question, but Mr. Nduka chose my seatmate, Chidimma to answer the question.
“Another name for Consonant Blends is Consonant Clusters,” she said, smiling from ear to ear.
“Ifenna, give me five words with ‘bl’ blends.”
“Blur, black, blue, bleat, and blunt,” I answered with ease.
“Good. Now give me another five words with ‘sp’ blends.”
“Erm…erm…”
“Yes go on,” Mr. Nduka urged, looking irritated.
When I still had no answer after three minutes, he started coming towards me with his fat cane, that was when I remembered a word. “Spider.” I screamed at the top of my voice, to stop him from flogging me. What happened next still beats my imagination.
The girls all scampered out of class screaming their heads off and shouting “Spider. Spider.”, The boys laughed so hard, they fell off their seats. The entire class was in an uproar. Mr. Nduka was looking from one person to the other dumbfounded.
“Where’s the spider?” He asked me.
“I didn’t see any spider.”
“Why did you scream spider?”
“It was one of my examples, sir.”
“Do you mean that you saw no spider and yet you screamed spider to scare everyone?”
“No sir, I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Come out of your seat, and kneel in front of the class.”
“Please Sir,” I tried to plead again, but he was upon me with his cane, flogging all over my body.
I lost count of how many strokes of cane he flogged me, I cried and pleaded, but he only stopped when he was satisfied. Chidimma my seatmate came to console me when he was gone, but Tola and her clique kept on laughing and demonstrating how I cried, when I was being flogged.
As I stood in line waiting my turn to board the school bus, a black sleek car pulled up behind the school bus, its music blaring at the highest volume. A back window wound down and out came Tola’s head, like an earthworm coming out of a freshly dug hole. “Spider Girl.” She said mockingly.
Laughter erupted among the crowd of people waiting to board the bus. My classmate who witnessed the incident started narrating it to those who weren’t there, all around me there were whispers and giggles. When I finally got on the school bus, the taunting began, no one allowed me seat with them. There was cat-calling and whistling, some were chanting “Spider Girl. Spider Girl.”
