EVERY CLOUD HAS A SILVER LINING – By Ifeoma Okonkwo (SS 2S)

Emeka is not your idea of a lucky boy. At the very tender age of 10 he had become an orphan. He lost his father at the age of seven. Two years later his mother, Nkechi passed on to the great beyond. What a life! Unlike the father who died in a motor accident, the mother seemed hale and hearty and only complained of a slight headache a while before giving up the ghost.

With only a grandmother to depend on, Emeka’s life became a tale of agony and woes. Feeding was poor as it essentially comprised carbohydrates. The fried eggs, delicious rice and beans and others which he was used to enjoying were no longer available. Talk of those decent clothes he used to put on too – all gone! And it was definitely goodbye to the comfort of a luxurious car in which his late father used to drive him to school in. What a pity! Well it is said that when there is life there is hope. Emeka managed to complete his primary education but could not afford to proceed to the next level despite his impressive credentials.

Frustrated, and downcast, the young boy joined a rich electronics trader in Benin City as an apprentice. Despite his condition the boy was determined to work hard to make a living out of the trade. For his condition that was a tall ambition and achieving it was no mean task. Soon enough, his wealth became obvious that even all those who despised him suddenly became friendly to him but Emeka was nice and good to them in spite of everything that had happened. Indeed, it is true what they say, “every cloud has a silver lining”.

UNTITLED - By Dumbiri Esther (SS 2A)

            You know how much I admire Mr Ibude Daniel, our games master, but really I don’t know what happened to him at Sokoto. Oh, I forgot to tell you, first that the football team went to play there. What a trip! And we had to spend two nights away and what a tiring journey it was.

            I think it was because it was Mr Ibude’s home town that he was so keen to show us Sokoto and insisted that we went sight-seeing not only in the evening after the match but in the morning before it as well!

            I flatly refused to go in the evening. I was so fed up. I don’t know what Mr Ibude was thinking about. We’d had a long and tiring journey – Sokoto is miles away and then to take us out sight-seeing the very morning of the match and make us walk all over the place in the hot sun, just seeing things! He might have known we’d be too tired to play well, which we were and so of course we lost the match, I mean in a mixed school! I bet the girls laughed at us!

            Oh help; there goes the bell for prep. We’ve got to write an essay on Sokoto and I can’t remember anything at all about any of the places we went to. Well, we went to play football, didn’t we? Besides, nobody said we’d have to write an essay on it when we got back. Or did they?

POOR PERFORMANCE OF STUDENTS IN ENGLISH LANGUAGE EXAMINATIONS – By Jessica Oniha (SS2 S)

The fact that English Language is the most important subject in the secondary school curriculum is incontestable. To understand his or her teachers in all subjects effectively, a secondary school student needs a firm grasp of the English Language; little wonder the subject is referred to as the key to all other subjects. To be eligible for admission to universities and other higher institutions of learning, secondary school students must pass English Language at credit or distinction level. English is the sole medium of communication in our university communities. Given the importance of English Language as a subject, common sense demands that students perform well in it. The statistics of result performance from WAEC however reveal that only a fraction of candidates that sit the exam pass at credit or distinction level annually. This is a shameful and painful revelation that calls for attention. Owing to this ugly situation, departments of English in some colleges of education have established pre-English programmes for the benefit of some of the candidates that could not pass the subject at the ordinary level stage. As a firm believer in ‘cause and effect’, I believe that there are some factors that cause poor performance of students in English Language.

Some so called English Language teachers are not academically qualified to teach it. They do not teach it well, as they are not specialists in the field of study. They are merely graduates of other disciplines like History, Philosophy, Religion, etc. who took to teaching English Language because they could not find teaching appointments in their respective disciplines and they wrongly believe of course that their ability to use high sounding words or expressions makes them good English Language teachers. This set of ‘English teachers’ seems to have forgotten that they are not scientists of the language. They are mostly found in substandard private schools.

Some students are to some extent responsible for the fact that they perform poorly in English Language. Many students do not even practice the habit of speaking simple and correct English always. Students are fond of speaking pidgin English, even when they ask their English Language teachers questions about their lessons. This has in fact landed some of them in trouble with their teachers. There are some students who do not buy the recommended English Language textbooks for their studies and some others who buy theirs do not make effective use of them.

Lastly, many parents and teachers of other subjects who are seen as models by students often discuss with them in wrong English. There are cases of teachers who commit unpardonable grammatical errors when teaching. Some parents who are even university graduates make such mistakes as “stop making noise”, “off the light”, “so therefore”, “superior than”, “more stronger”, etc. when interacting with their children. Students generally take such wrong expressions for correct ones and this phenomenon goes a long way in affecting their performances in English Language examinations.

THE RETURN OF EWUARE THE GREAT – By Igboji C. Promise (SS 1)

            One of the greatest kings of Benin was King Ewuare. He ruled over 500 years ago. Before he became king he was called Prince Ogun. The young prince was away on his travels when his father the king died. His wicked brother Uwaifiokun made himself king in his stead.

            The afternoon sun was already starting to sink in the sky when the procession reached Ekioba. Prince Ogun watched secretly from Emotan’s house as the air became filled with the noise of singing and drumming. The procession drew nearer to Emotan’s house. First came the Ukpkpe dancers running like soldiers to and from the Oba. They were singing praise songs and war songs. Some of them broke off branches from the trees nearby and held them high as they ran along.

            “If I could find my way into the Ukpukpe group I could get at Uwaifiokun easily” said Prince Ogun. “Even among the dancers there are people I have already won to your side” said Emotan. “You met some the other day. They hate Uwaifiokun. They will support you” she encouraged.

            Dressed as one of them in his raffia skirt, the prince stepped out to join the dancers. Amidst the waving swords and branches of the dancers, no one noticed his three-pronged spear, the Ogala.

            Emotan prayed silently to the gods. Slowly the Oba drew near. Occasionally he halted and looked up into the sky as though a voice was warning him to stop and turn back. Did he realize his danger? It seemed as though he didn’t, for still he advanced. His Okhuen or raffia robes hanging beautifully from his waist, his neck hugged thickly by beads. Two chiefs supported him on either side and his beaded crown shone in the scorching sun. At last the Oba was so near that Prince Ogun could see his blood shot eyes. This was the moment!

            “Uwaifiokun!” He shouted above the noise. “Will you not greet the brother you have wronged?”

            Oba Uwaifokun was frozen in his stride. He stood as still as a dead man. A soldier at the Oba’s side raised his spear but an arrow from one of Ogun’s men pierced his throat. The Oba opened his mouth as if to speak but before he could do so, Prince Ogun’s spear sank into his chest. Oba Uwaifokun was dead before his body touched the ground.

            Horrified, the chiefs stepped back. Ogun leapt forward and with his sword cut off the Oba’s head. The chiefs fled, shouting “Ogun re e!” “Ogun has come! Ogun has come!”

LETTER TO GRANDMA

Yours was my maiden funeral. Father stood beside your casket, placed in the middle of the compound, a piece of wrapper round his waist.

“It is the custom” my cousin Chris had said. As your first son, he had to wear that wrapper like a woman. He was also banished from taking his bath until you were received by the earth.

“But he wouldn’t have a problem with the bath”, I thought to myself. Sometimes he worked so hard he wouldn’t have his bath for two days. On such occasions mother would ask me, “Itodo, are you sure your father is ok?”

He had a genuine excuse today - tradition. The priest went on and on, eulogizing you.

Grandma, your service had been delayed. The church fined you. They brought your attendance card and found you guilty of absenteeism in the days following the illness that took you away.

“You have to pay the fine before the priest can start the service” the treasurer had said to my father.

In the middle of the service it began to drizzle.

“But I settled Adagba the rainmaker!” Chris my cousin cursed.

I found the idea of a man holding the rain back laughable. But father didn’t want your homeward journey ruined.

Your compound had been filled with screams. The women cried, or screamed. Every one of them related to you had to cry - your sisters, your daughters and your sons’ wives. There was a fine for anyone who wasn’t emotional enough or that lacked the talent to act.

Martha your daughter couldn’t shed a tear. She gladly paid the fine.

Aunty Rose collected the fines.

“You couldn’t cry for your mother!” she queried Aunty Martha, with a bowl for the fines in her hand.

“And our wife” she said, referring to my mother. “We have reports that while Mama was alive you called her a witch”

The verdict had been passed. My mother had cried profusely, like she genuinely loved you. She was such a good actor. She paid the fine for calling you a witch, while you were alive.

Aunty Jane, Dan’s wife was also fined. Her offence was “not letting you see her two children, your grandchildren before you died”. I found it strange Dan your son wasn’t fined instead.

Your sisters inhabited your room, all four of them sitting on the floor with your casket in the center of the room. Once I breezed past the door and one of them called out, “whose child are you”.

Aunty Rose was in time to bail me.

“Don’t you know your sister’s grandchild, Itodo?” They looked at me with squinting eyes from deeply wrinkled faces as recognition hit them.

“Oh, how he has grown” a woman said. “Come give me a hug” another encouraged.

In that moment I saw you in death - cold, powerless with your jovial life frozen in the casket.

Outside in the tents arranged for dinner, the visitors murmured.

“The meat is not enough”.

“What kind of funeral is this?”

            “Are they so poor?”

The questions from dissenting voices raged.

At dusk your remains were transported to your father’s house. You couldn’t be buried in your husband’s house, custom again!

I returned to the old house, where I had first lived with you at the age of 14. I could still see you preparing the meals in your tiny mud-built kitchen. I could still see you bailing water from the red muddy ground into the reservoir when it rained. At age 21, yours was my first burial and truly grandma, I wish you had witnessed it.