would now pay for him? He did not understand it. The teacher came closer to the headmaster’s table.
“Who will take care of his fees, sir? You know it would be unfair to send other students home without Jamike being sent home too.”
“I will take over the payment from now on. A bright young man like this should be assisted, or he would leave school and begin to waste his life in the village and never realize his potential.”
“Do you mean this, sir?”
“ I would not say so if I did not mean it.”
“What you have said is true, sir, about children not being able to realize their potential because of lack of money,” the teacher said. “What you have done, sir, has no comparison. It is wonderful, sir. You know, sir, that you need to arrange to see his mother so she won’t have to worry herself to death about this term’s fees. Parents lose sleep and pine away when it is time for school fees and money is not available.”
“I plan to do so. I will, however, need someone to direct me to his home.” The headmaster thought for a few seconds. “No, I think the best thing to do will be to follow Jamike home after school next Friday. That’s what I am going to do.”
“That would be the best way to go about it. Thank you, sir.” Teacher Ekweariri left the office thinking how lucky Jamike was among other students. “Well, he is intelligent,” he muttered.
That night the headmaster and his wife, Asamuka, discussed his intention. She said it was worthwhile and gave her support. That was not the first time the headmaster and his wife had helped an indigent student, but for Jamike they planned to be responsible for his fees until he completed elementary school in Primary Standard Six, three years away.
It was a little after two o’clock in the afternoon on a Friday. The sun was still hot. Hawks flew high and drifted in clear skies. Dry oil-bean pods exploded on trees from the sun’s heat, and children ran with speed into bushes in different directions, not minding thorns, shrubs, and other impediments to pick oil-bean seeds. Though the market was settling to its usual noisy business at this time, some men could be seen strolling leisurely and chatting on their way while women with baskets of goods to sell walked at a more than normal pace.
Most villagers had gone to the market, and the village was generally quiet. School children who played ball along the road were still heading home. Uridiya, usually prompt for the market, was still in her backyard arranging and tying her basket. Akudike, her late husband’s brother, tired from the day’s farm work sent his grandson to the market for tobacco and palm wine while he swept out the goat shed and organized his veranda.
The headmaster dismounted his white Raleigh bicycle at the gate of the compound and stood it to the left of Akudike’s out house. School children who saw him on his way down the dirt road were surprised but excited that he was in their neighborhood. Some ran off to tell their parents that their headmaster had gone into Jamike’s compound with him, but they were doubted. Others stood and stared, wondering what might have happened. They thought the boy must have committed a serious offense at school for the headmaster to bring him home. Uridiya answered her son from her backyard. Jamike hurried back there and in a moment was out with his mother.
Uridiya was gripped with apprehension when Jamike introduced the headmaster. She greeted him but did not know what to make of this unusual visit.
“Headmaster, what brought you to our compound this day? Whatever it is, it must be your spirit that has been delaying me. I would have long been in the market by now. I hope it is nothing bad. Children are very rascally these days.”
“Your son brought me, but it is for a good reason. I like to visit in the village from time to time, but I just haven’t made it to this area before now.”
“God bless you that you remember us. May it be good to you.” Akudike raised his head and kept an ear in the direction of the conversation.
Uridiya called on Akudike to come out to see who had come to visit them. He chided her for keeping the headmaster standing while she talked to him.
“Find the headmaster a seat,” he scolded Uridiya. He shook the headmaster’s hand and motioned him to his veranda. Once they sat down, he offered kola nut and alligator pepper, which he fished out of his bag, and apologized for not having any palm wine.
“Please pardon our inadequacy.”
“ You have offered kola nut to welcome me and that is enough in our tradition. After all, I did not inform you I was coming to visit.”
Jamike was standing and holding on to the wood column that supported Akudike’s veranda, his feet crossed as if he was about to swing around the wood.
“I thank you for the kola nut. Let me not hold you from leaving for the market. It is past time. Uridiya, is this your son?” He looked at Uridiya and pointed at Jamike.
“He is the only child God gave to me and his father.”
“He did not ask you for a story, Uridiya, storyteller. If you begin your story I will leave you to continue. He asked you a simple question. He hasn’t told you why he is here,” Akudike cautioned.
“Oh, I will shut up. When he asks me the next question, you tell me what to answer. Pardon me, headmaster. This is the way they shut me up in this compound. I have no say, not even to tell you that Jamike is my child without a rebuke from those who own me.” The headmaster was amused. He understood family squabbles.
“The reason I came here is to talk about your son, Jamike. He is an intelligent student and does well in class, coming first in examinations most of the time. I found out from his teacher that his end of school term result is always withheld, either because he has not completed his fees for the term or he failed to pay anything at all…” Uridiya cut in.
“Your observation is right. I pay, as I am able, when I can. Things are hard for the two of us. But I have sworn to my god that he will go to school. Let God do his wish on him.”
Jamike listened to every word that came out of the headmaster’s mouth and watched as well the look of consternation on his mother’s face. Jamike had told his mother about the meeting with the headmaster and his teacher early in the week but Uridiya did not think much about it. She thought the boy did not understand what he was talking about.
“Hold on, Uridiya.” Akudike interjected. “Headmaster, though she took the word from your mouth, what she said is true. Since the boy’s father, my brother, died, the woman you are looking at here has suffered in raising this boy. Whether they see what to eat or not they carry on. It is from what she scratches out of the farm that she uses for both of them. These days the farm does not yield much. However, God has blessed her with a good boy. Of all the children in the kindred, this child is number one in character. Just mention the errand and he is on his way. If you give him a message for someone he does not forget it while playing, like other children do these days. He is a good boy. Please, continue your statement,” Akudike said.
“Woman, you have tried very much. I praise you for your determination that your boy will be educated.”
Uridiya adjusted herself on the bamboo bench in Akudike’s cool veranda. On hot days this bench serves as a bed for the old man.
“Since I did not go to school, let him go there and read the books for himself and for me,” she cut in again. Akudike was irritated.
“Headmaster,
