African Tales
Azubike started to do most home chores; washing of plates, sweeping of rooms and compound and a host of others when his peers don’t even think of those chores. At the age of seven, he could be said to be in the same business his parents were into. He would resume in the palm-oil mill at 3.30am, leave at 6.30 am to home where he had to go to two rounds of water fetching from a stream over a mile away from home. Most mornings, in addition, he would have to cook and pound ‘akpu’ fufu that a family of eight would eat, then eat his own before trotting off to school over three miles away. Most of the time, he would arrive at school late and so receive the appropriate treatment for that. When he comes back from school he had to fetch as much as 150 to 250 liters of water from a stream over one and half miles from the oil mill for his parents’ business, get goat food for close to fifty goats and sheep, fetch another 60 liters of water for home use every day and in addition get fire wood for both his parents’ business and for home use everyday. Thereafter, he returns back to the oil mill to help his parents out on their business and most time leave the oil mill by 9 to 9.30 Pm to go home and cook and eat and has only from 10 to 10.30 Pm to read his book and sleep. He then wakes up at 3.30am to head to oil mill once again! Despite all this , Azubike was still one of the best in his school and proceeded to college-graduation and amazingly had time for leisure- Tale of a typical African village boy! It is true.
The
earliest memory of my childhood was that of the Nigerian civil war. I guess
that why I was able to remember that was because of its strangeness and the
very likely possibility of someone losing his life or that of parents or
sibling any time. Very few rich persons had cars in my village and all of a
sudden we were now witnessing fast moving fighter aircrafts gracing our skyline
and not just gracing our skylines, they fly so low that you could almost see
those driving the strange machines if it was safe to climb a tree and not only
that the strange machines actually came to survey if there were any habitation
under the forests to kill every one living inside! So you can imagine how that
was able to register in my three to four years infant mind. I recall on one
occasion, a plane perhaps hit by a Biafra buffer was closing in on our house or
so it appeared to my infant mind but somehow narrowly missed our house and
clashed some one mile away from our house. I recalled being constantly whisked
off by my elder sister into the covering of the bush to avoid being killed by
fighter bombers and all manner of Nigeria air force planes; in one of such
occasions I, on the back of my elder sister, landed on top of a giant shit that
splashed all over our face and body. Better that than our heads blown out into
the high heavens. The other childhood memory was when one of my younger sisters
was born. As usual my mother was delivered of her baby right in her room or
rather she had put to bed in her room when someone went to call the ‘midwife’
to come and cut the umbilical cord. I guess that why this registered in my mind
was because so many people gathered as well as the suddenness of cries of a
little baby filling the room and what was more that same room was where I sleep
in. I am sure that the normal newborn baby’s stomach aches that constantly keep
them crying especially at night must have really disturbed me so much that it
registered firmly in my mind. Apart from these there were no other things or
events of my childhood I could recall aptly.
Click to buy book
-
Book 1
-
Book 2
-
Book 3
-
Book 4
-
Book 5
Main Extract
True
Tales of a Teenager’s Village Life in Africa
Igwegbe
Lawrence Emeka
Foreword
AZUBIKE
True
Tales, of a Teenager’s Village Life in Africa
Have
you ever read that in many African villages, households, eek out living on less
than $5 per day!? Have you ever imagined that it was so difficult to even make
the $5 and that as little as the $5 was that all hands were on deck to make
it!? I mean father, mother and all
children! Now if parents and all their children had to do so much in those
African villages where they had to survive on $5 per day you can now sum up the
quantity of effort that had to be put in for some households to make $10 to $20
per day! Do you know that some households have to put in as much as 14 to 16
hours of serious labor every day to remain slightly above
poverty- line and perhaps hope to afford the luxury of giving education of a
kind to the children? The parents in those African villages simply have so much
to do to stay away from poverty line that without the support of their children
and wards they would practically tear themselves apart with work! While in the
advanced civilizations, governments are alive to their responsibilities and
would most likely not clean off their country’s treasury into perpetually
licking personal pockets, so they could afford to talk and legislate against
the so called ‘Child Labor’ because there were really no need for child labor
in those countries but isn’t it amazing and ironic that
here in Africa where most governments are to say the least highly irresponsible
and are even responsible for the total spread of poverty in their respective
countries by their frequent looting of their nations’ treasuries and who
perhaps treat the fact that many households eek out their lives on just $2 as
mere statistics would turn around and join leaders of advanced nations to talk
and legislate shamelessly about ‘child labor’! Even the advanced civilizations,
let us not forget so fast that some 60,000 to 80,000 days ago when so much
labor was required to keep plantations producing at maximum capacity in the new
found land of America couldn’t recognize which labor was
child labor or adult labor to the low point of enslaving, a whole continent not
even for survival but for creation of wealth for themselves. By then the citizens
of now advanced nations was then talking of inappropriateness of ‘White Labor’!
The African village child has so much to do to assist the parents and guardians
for collective survival. He has no choice than to support the parents and
wouldn’t have seen such support as ‘Child labor’ but rightly as an exercise of
responsible mentality. However, this meant that the African village child has
little or no time to read his book but read his book he must if he hopes to
beat poverty and the shadows of creeping ignorance. So despite the fact that
the African village child has little amount of time to put into his studies but
he is going to sit in the same examination with
African city children and others elsewhere in advanced nations that have
so much time to themselves and surprisingly sometimes do much better than
the African city children! “Azubike…” is
a true tale of a responsible, obedient, struggling and excelling teenage
African Village child that would bring to your reading desk, the tale; of
industry, resilience, doggedness, studiousness, accountability, adventure,
excellence and surprisingly even fun! It is a tribute to several millions of
struggling African village children.
Dedications
This
work is specially, dedicated to the memories of the following:
Ndidi
Elily, my sister in law, who died as she was being delivered of her first
child. Adio Ndii.
The
work is also dedicated to my late Dad and Mum, Mazi Raphael Iheatu Igwegbe and
Mrs. Lilian Oriaku Igwegbe. I am grateful.
And
Ima-Obong
Okon Effiong my niece.
The
work is also dedicated to these wonderful friends of mine:
Majek
Ehimen Onobun
Mazi
Chuks Ekpunobi (Nwachinamelu)
Capt.
Nwana Obioha
Finally
this work is dedicated to millions of African children that have no choice at
all than to tow the path of responsibility by helping
their parents to do some of the so much the parents have to do to keep body and
soul together; and at the same time put enough effort to read their books and
compete with other children that are far less busy but most importantly
rekindle the hope of ever getting out of the poverty circle!
Though
this narration is a true story but all characters used in the narration
including places do not exist or are used fictitiously.
Table
of Content
Foreword
Dedication
Part
1 Birth and Early Child Hood Development
Part
2 Education, Resourcefulness, and rugged Resilience
Part
3 Fun adventure and Mischief!
Part
1
Birth
and Early Child Hood Development
My
father as an African was more customary to pick a second
wife or even a third wife even though all he had may be just a few acres of
land or even much less but I was lucky, my dad had only my Mom as his wife so I
do not have to face the challenge of competition amongst half brothers and
sisters and step mother but that also meant missing the
few advantages of a polygamous family especially having a lot of half brothers
and sisters that would teach other peers some lessons if they chose to play
bully on me. Though I had an elder brother and sister,
they were not often available as they were much older than me. You may wonder
why. I just mentioned that one thing an African village man may do is to get
himself as many wives as possible, the second thing an
African village man may most likely do is to have so many children from one
single wife. Sometime the woman may give birth to as many as twelve to fifteen
children. In some villages when a woman is able to give birth to such an
outrageous number of children, the husband, in celebration would kill a goat in
honor of the woman, (igbu ewu ukwu)! The woman is often given the waist part of
the goat as a mark of honor. Even when it is crystal clear in the mind of the
husband that considering all his resources, he just can’t possibly effectively
feed such large number of children let alone educating them. However, he hopes
that some kind of miracle may happen when the responsibility of educating the
children calls. When this hoped miracle didn’t occur the African village man is
simply not worried; he marries off most of the girl children even before they
are midway into the secondary school! Most of the African village men would
want to give good education to their first born child; where this is not
possible or that resources are too low, the most brilliant male child would get
more attention educationally and the rest of the male children sent off to
learn any kind of trade or handiwork before they even finish secondary school!
The view of the African village man as regard the number of children can best
be summed up with this local saying: “Nwakaego” meaning that number of children
are far more important than heaps of money! “It is God that brings children” An
African man is of the view that it is not within his control nor is it
desirable to regulate as regard the number of children he has. He is of the
view that it is God alone that determines the number of children anyone has or if one should even have children in the first case. So my father just like so many others made my
mother put to bed eleven times but out of the eleven only six survived. My Mom
just like many other African village women, while pregnant did not go for any
anti-natal. There were no nearby hospitals and even when there were it is
doubtful if they would eagerly attend because there were what was called
dispensary but most women from our village mostly ignored their services yet
they engaged in activities so heavy and stressful that a city African woman may
consider out rightly dangerous while pregnant. For instance, the pregnant
African village women are heavily involved in all farming activities; cutting
of bush, cultivation of farm lands with local hoes, weeding of farm lands,
harvesting of crops and a host of other activities that are associated with
farming. Most times, the pregnant wife, the husband and fairly grown children would
leave for farm land as early as 5:00 am and they were not coming back until
7:00 to 8:00 Pm and what is more the next day it is repeated again! In fact in
the farming activities, apart from clearing of the farm lands and cultivating
them; it is the exclusive job of women to constantly weed the farm lands of
weeds and pregnant women are not excluded from this activity. Don’t think that
after farming season a pregnant wife would rest, no such thing she still have
to assist in harvesting of palm nuts, bread fruits, peach seed processing,
(igbawa ogbono) and a host of other non farming activities like maintenance of
the living home, preparation of roofing mat from raffia palm (idu otani),
regular smoothing of mud floors and walls (ite uno), fetching of food for goats
is a daily affair (Ije nri-ewu) and fetching of fire wood is an every other day
activity (Ije nku), fetching of water from far streams is a daily affair too,
(ichu mmiri). Just to mention some of the major chores not forgetting cooking
of food at least three times daily (isi nri)! I mentioned harvesting of palm
nuts. It is one hell of cumbersome and tasking assignment; when the head of
palm nuts is cut down, it is the women and children that
carry the heads home as well as pick stray loose fruits, one by one tree by
tree and carry them home too. At home sometimes the husband helps to severe the
palm-nuts bunches from the palm heads. Sometimes it is the women and children
that do this too, thereafter the heap is covered with cut grasses for a few days
so that the palm fruits would get loose of the nut bunches.Thereafter
the fruits are separated from the severed bunches. Sometime the heap of the
severed bunches may be so large to fill a small pick-up
van! After this process the family may decide to sell bags of the palm fruits
in the market; that would end the cumbersome process but where the family
decides to process the palm fruits themselves, good God, another process would
start all over again. Depending on the quantity of palm nuts, you may have to
provide at least 65 liters of water for cooking and preparing six medium sized
bags of palm fruits. You also need two large heaps of palm fronds firewood
‘ogbogili’ to cook the palm fruits. After pounding which must be done while the
cooked palm fruits are steaming hot the extraction of the oil from the poppy
fiber follows; thereafter the separation of the palm nuts from the fiber comes
and few days after, the cracking of the heaps of palm nuts to get out the palm
kernel is done ‘iti aki’. As you can see, it is a hell of energy sapping work
and women are heavily involved in all these and some of the works are even
exclusively for women like separation of palm nuts from fiber is exclusively
for women alone. If you also have a look at the process of washing of bread
fruits, it is another hectic job which is entirely left for women and children.
When the bread fruits heads fall from the tree, they are carried to home and
left to soften and sometimes the heads of the bread fruits are so heavy that
you may not be able to lift one head to your head without the help of someone.
Sometimes it may take several days before all the heads of bread fruits are
packed home. The day that they are going to be washed in the stream, they are
once again loaded into basins down to the far stream where the now softened
heads are taken in small quantities into large baskets and women use their legs
to practically ‘dance’ away the waste materials into the downstream that fish
and other stream animals feed on ‘imacha ukwa’. Most times it may take days
before a particular load of bead fruit heads are washed off and then taken to
the market for sale.When it is harvest time women are involved heavily in
digging out of yam tubers, coco yam, potatoes, cassava, okra, vegetables,
maize, pepper, pears, mangos, oranges, picking and cracking of peach nuts and
many other things. You can see that African women pregnant or not have so much
to do, that it is only natural; their children must have to help out. So those
who call this rightful assistance of children and wards to their mothers as
child labor simply does not understand what is on the ground. With all these
you wouldn’t be surprised if I tell you that I would have been delivered by my
mother right in our farm land some three miles away from home! Well that was
what almost happened; my mom’s contraction started almost immediately she and
her friend left the farm land. Her friend managed to guide her into someone’s
compound and somehow the local ‘midwife’ learnt of her labor and rushed in to
assist her. I am saying rushed in to assist her, it wasn’t exactly assisting
her to bring out the baby from the womb; it was to cut the umbilical cord because
before she could come my Mom had already put to bed! It wasn’t exactly a bed,
it was an old mat! Well compare this type of delivery to those of women in the
cities; you can see that the difference is clear! Women in the cities; attends
anti-natal regularly; gynecologists constantly inspect them and when it is time
for delivery, it is such a great event. First, baby items are to be picked in
considerable quantities even months before the baby is born and weeks before
the baby is expected, a full box load of baby exclusives, called baby load is
put together. I didn’t enjoy any of such. In fact for diaper, when a woman is
nearing delivery time most of the old wrappers are assembled and some cut into
smaller pieces to carry the load of constant wetting and baby shitting. For
circumcision, a few days after; the local person that conducts circumcision,
mostly women, comes with a form of the small curved-blade to do it. This is an
art that is not learned, it is in the family that do it when one of them dies
another just get the art and start doing it. If how the women in the village;
delivers their baby can be said to be careless or reckless, it is in the
delivery that the carelessness ends; though there were no baby loads for the
baby but there was a kind of serious load for the mother. Starting from the day
of delivery the woman is treated with spiced up dishes of yam and smoked fish
pepper soup and other specials. This good treatment last for months for
effective recovery of the woman and for preparation for the next all important
task- breast feeding! While in the city, the women are reluctant to breastfeed
their babies citing the reason that breast feeding their babies would soon make
their ‘fine’ breasts to obey gravity is simply unheard of in our village. In a
village not too far from ours, if a woman is to be so bold to say such a
ridiculous thing to the hearing of an elder, it may be treated as raw
abomination! Well you may say lucky me, I fed fat on my Mom’s breast milk for
nearly fifteen month! Don’t worry yourself she didn’t complain. While city
women buy all kinds of cereals, cow milk, goat milk, sheep's milk and any other
type of milk available in the market to replace the mother’s natural and
appropriate milk, I had my mom’s milk but didn’t get any cereal foods instead.
I like other children in our village got in addition a load of ‘akamu’ pap from
maize. This pap was a constant companion for most children. In fact in some far
off villages, it was and is still practically pumped into the child's stomach
by force and crude technique to augment the mother’s milk whether the child
like it or not ‘igba akamu’! It was not that there were no other food but pap
like cereals was what the children could easily take down and that was what I
took; loads and loads of it until I was ready for the main food which you will
soon learn about. The main food was and is still ‘akpu’ or ‘mgbaduga’ or
‘utala’ or ‘loiloi’ or simply fufu from cassava! This is one food, up till
tomorrow I can still take in the morning, afternoon and night without complaint
and repeat it the next day! In fact, it would be treated as serious change of
diet and show of real wealth, if you take ‘akpu’ with ‘onugbu’ soup bitter leaf
soup in the morning; ‘Utara Ede’ that is pounded coco yam and unripe banana
with ‘oha’ soup in the afternoon and ‘utra ji’ pounded yam with ‘nsala’ fresh
fish light pepper soup in the night! Let me not talk about those great foods
now I will come back to them later.
Though
those of us born in the village had the total enjoyment of our Mom’s breast
milk but the major support food you already know was pap ‘akamu’ unlike the
city children that may not have their Mom’s breast milk as much as village
children but they are supported by rich cereal food, animal milks and a whole
lot of other things have effects in many ways on both the village and city
child as you will see as we move on. To start with the city children glow
faster. As such they do not have any kind of challenge starting school at the
dot of six years some even start as early as five years or even four years.
Some of them even start kindergarten at the age of two such was unheard of in
our village. In fact when I clocked six I was taken to the school to be
registered, initially I was quite excited because I was allowed to wear my
Christmas ‘jomper’ dress though bare footed, to the head master’s office;
however after the headmaster questioned my Dad at length, I guess he was not
convinced that a six year old child could be that small, he ordered me to do
something I would have thought quite amusing if I was not in front of the
almighty head master. I was asked to put my right hand or was it my left hand
across my head to touch my ear. But you know what; as much as I tried to do
this seemly easy exercise; I found out that my hand could scarcely get to the
other ear across my head! The head master’s verdict- my Dad was ordered to take
me home and bring me back the next year! Even though my dad pleaded that I was
already two months older than six years it fell on the head master’s deaf ears.
My Dad grabbed me by my right hand so firmly that I suspected that he might
perhaps be blaming me for not growing up fast enough; can you imagine that?
Though that issue has been just as well, you recall that I said that I was
excited while we were on our way to school but all my excitement vanished into
the thin air when we arrived school in time to see stinging lashes being
administered on the back of late comers while they are still kneeling down!. I
had never knelt down except while we were playing and that was not many times
then but certainly I had never been seriously caned on my hand let alone on my
back. How am I going to be sleeping while my back hurts? I decided there and
then I was not interested in going to school no matter what! Though my Dad was
unhappy, I could feel it because of how tight he was holding my hand as if I
was about to run away at the slightest slacking of his grip but as far as I was
concerned that was his problem. In fact I was even happy I was going home to join
my little sisters to continue our numerous plays but little did I know what was
going on in my Dad’s mind. I didn’t have a long time to wait to learn what was
coming. Immediately we arrived home, I quickly removed my lone dress and ran
out to build sand castles but I noticed my Dad talked briefly with my Mom; I
guess expressing their disappointment that I was not starting school as they
had hoped and thereafter my Dad left to somewhere. I couldn’t remember whether
I slept or had gone to other areas to play by the time my Dad eventually
returned from wherever he went. However, the next morning after eating
breakfast I ran out and started playing with my younger sisters and one other
child that visited with her Mom. I was slightly irritated when my Dad interrupted
my play by calling me into our seating room. When I came in he told me,
“Azubike, bring out that low stool under the big table.” I did as commanded and
honestly I had never seen this low stool before and most likely he must have
just made it a day before. I was just taking in this, when my Dad put his hand
behind the big couch he was seated on to bring out a small blackboard and a
small pack of white chalk! “Azubike, these are your learning stool and black
board to start learning 1,2,3… and A, B, C, D, ... Sit down!” my dad said. I
felt as if I had just been stung by an irate honey bee that materialized from
nowhere! This meant that I was not going to complete the sweet ‘okwe’ game I
was playing with my sisters and our visiting friend. It would have been more
bearable if my other younger sisters were going to be with me on this so called
learning but they were left out of it to continue with the sweet ‘okwe ’ game
we were playing. My dad however continued his preparations; when he finished
writing, he removed his long chewing stick from his mouth and used the
un-chewed end of the stick to point at the strange thing he had written on the
blackboard and said, “Ehee!” I was looking at him without saying anything I
guess that really annoyed him as he gave me well measured twang on my head with
his chewing stick now turned into a vicious cane! “Say after me, ‘Ehee’!” he
barked. I was shocked at my Dad’s extra vicious and sobbing at the same time
but if I read correctly the look on my Dad’s face he was not ready to condone
any kind of foolishness nor any kind of nonsense so I said, “Eheee!”
my
dad said, “Good!”
me
too I said, “goudee.”
My
Dad was so angry and he barked at me in Igbo, “Taa, mechie onu, nwa nzuzuah!”
meaning shut your mouth up you stupid child. Of course I shut up my mouth
instantly but not for as long as I would have wished because a few moments
later my Dad started all over again, “Ehee” I followed dutifully. I had no
choice I knew it. It didn’t take time before I was introduced to another arm of
learning , number counting though it may not be the way you know it;
“1,2,3,4,5,6,…” my dad thought it to me differently. I had to learn to count
both in English and Igbo at the same time; One/ofu, Two/abuo, Three/ato,
Four/ano, Five/ise,… etc. I guess maybe that might have been the way I would
have been thought had I been admitted into primary one by the Head Master or
maybe my Dad did that to help me understand the numbers easily but no matter
what it was intended it soon landed me into trouble, you will see shortly. Soon
thereafter I was introduced to alphabets and their corresponding words like, A
for apple, B for ball, C for cat, D for dog, E for elephant, F for frog … etc..
One day my dad had ran down the whole alphabets and their corresponding words
then asked me to continue repeating the whole stuff while he goes to attend to
a matter that concerns him and that he would be back shortly. I didn’t know if
he deliberately wanted to go to somewhere and hide and hear me take charge on
my own or that he actually went somewhere really or both; more over I couldn’t
remember whether I was tired or feeling sleepy or both but you can’t believe
it; what I heard myself sang but unfortunately my father heard it too! “A for
anara, B for bingo, C for Calaba, D for dodo (plantain) E for enyi, F for fufu,
G for Gari, H for Hama (hammer) I for inine (kind of green vegetable)…! ” These
were what I was saying and most assuredly repeating them over and over. I was
pretty sure that I was half asleep, standing and singing because I couldn’t say
that I knew when my Dad entered the seating room or even how long he had
patiently listed to those craps and perhaps hoping I might somehow come to my
senses and do the right thing; the only thing that helped to return me to the
path of sanity and abruptly end the singing of this ridiculous crap were swift
twangs delivered by my Dad on my newly shaved ‘golimakpa’ head with a new cane
chewing stick as the first one had either been chewed up by my dad or had
turned into bits on my head! “You, stupid un-serious bundle; I thought you had
mastered this thing and you are here babbling this rubbish to the hearing of
all who cared to listen! ” my dad barked angrily. There were many other such
babbles but I can still remember one major one, After I had mastered how to
count, I knew that counting was no longer a problem but I was surprised several
weeks after the incident I just narrated, my Dad once more went to attend to a
business of his; I overheard myself releasing another brand new song I didn’t
know how I composed, “one/ofu… six/one! One/ofu… six/one! ...” instead of
“one/ofu, two/abuo, three/ato, four /ano… etc.” Just like the other time I was
repeating this incredible rubbish over and over half asleep. It didn’t take
time for my Dad to be back to hear this latest crazy song too! Though this time
around he didn’t know whether to be angry or amused or maybe he was in such a
good mood. He didn’t beat me, he merely said, “Azubike, I thought you knew your
count in and out? In fact it is not that I thought you knew it I know that you
knew it. Now give me the count to one thousand!” All sleep and tiredness
vanished in a jiffy and I guess I didn’t want to take the unusual good mood of
my Dad for granted and I correctly gave him the count to his satisfaction and
he merely nodded. My Dad was rarely amused but I believe that why he let me get
away with this latest babble was that he was more amused about that crazy
babble than angered at my lack of articulate composure because a few days after,
I overheard him telling my Mom about the crazy count he caught me repeating to
myself they both burst into laughter and I laughed too. My learning has indeed
started. Shortly my Dad doggedly taught me how to do simple arithmetic
operations; addition, subtraction, division and multiplication. Later we
progressed to fractions, beginners’ geometry and shapes, circles, squares,
triangles, etc. I knew you would be wondering if I was now admitted the next
session by the headmaster, you won’t believe it no matter what my Dad pleaded
with the headmaster about having laid a solid foundation in the past one year,
the head master insisted that I do the usual; put my right hand across the my
head to touch my left ear, your guess is correct. No matter how I stretched my
short arm it could not touch the left ear across my head! The head master’s
verdict, my Dad should produce me the next year don’t think it was for an
automatic admission, it was for the headmaster to check once again if I could
perform that simple but crazy task! Me and my Dad left the head master’s office
dejected. This time around I didn’t feel happy like the other time. It was not
only because I have started to like learning but because many, if not all my
mates, who were taller were all in school. So while we were going home, I
suggested to my Dad that perhaps we may have to check another school. He kept
quiet as if he didn’t hear me. Moments later he said, “I have not thought about
it but I think that you are right only that the next school is too far away
from our home but I will talk it over with your Mom” A few days after my Dad
took me to another school, in fact while we were going I wished I had not
suggested that we try a new school but now my wish was of no consequence. My
parents have set their minds on this new school and I believe that my Dad’s
only prayer was that the plans he had in his mind works out; but you may not
believe it the school we were attempting to register in was well over three
miles from our home! Finally we were in the head master’s office who as usual
asked me to do the usual hand-across - the -head test. Of course my right hand
couldn’t reach my left ear. The headmaster was about to dismiss us but my
father insisted that I was already seven years old and apart from that, he believed
that he had laid enough foundation for me and that I could even fit into
primary two. The head master softened a bit and asked me a few questions which
I answered without hesitation. The head master nodded and said, “well I think
your ward can actually start school immediately in primary one!” I was quite happy
but was surprised when my Dad pleaded with the headmaster that I could fit into
his primary two!? The head master resisted but following the
continued insistence of my Dad, the head master finally said, “Well I
don’t want to do this but considering your confidence in your ward you can come
back tomorrow, he would have to take some test if he passed he would be allowed
to join primary two class.” My father suddenly stood up
and shakes hands with the headmaster and we left.
Click to buy book
No comments:
Post a Comment