FIRST TERM FORM ONE
One cold Sunday in the month of November, my uncle Kwabena Boateng took me to school in his taxi. At the entrance of the school, was this huge board with a bold inscription:
“KROTOA RECHIE SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL
MOTTO: Anoint, Accumulate, Serve”
In the middle of the script was the school emblem, which consisted an open Bible and what seemed like the peak of three mountains. I couldn’t look at it well because my uncle sped past it as quickly as he could. As soon as we alighted from the car, I had to carry my heavy chop box to the Senior House Mistress’ house with the help of some form three girls. My uncle waited until my things were out of his car and he vanished into thin air.
I was in house one and our colour was blue. My school mother was a house prefect but she wasn’t around so a form two student in house three was to take charge of me until she returned. I was led to my dormitory which was supposed to be my dwelling place for the year. The seniors asked me to carry my chop box for as long as they liked. So here I was in the middle in the middle of a cold room clothed quiet lightly and shivering like a leaf, being asked to carrying weight I could barely manage even with the help of two people. I stood there with no expression on my face, asking in my head; “What exactly do these people want from me?”
First senior: Hey December head, didn’t you hear us? We asked you to carry your chop box, oya do it now!
Me: Please senior, it is too heavy for me. I cannot even lift it let alone carry it on my head.
2nd senior: Really? Who are you calling senior? Are we boys? I am Sister Ruth, she is Sister Marian, and the one there is Sister Mary.
Sister Mary: Just leave the poor girl alone, she just came. She might be tired. Just help her lay her bed and sleep. You can do whatever you want to do to her tomorrow.
With that said, I was told that because I came, I couldn’t possibly get a bed. I was asked to lay my mattress on the floor and rest. I quickly obeyed. Before I could lie down, Sister Ruth ordered me to open my chop box. Sister Ruth, I reckoned was a very interesting character; she was shorter than me, very dark with a mouth that could be seen ten miles away. The thought that I was being intimidated by people four years younger than myself was just too much for me to bear, but I controlled my emotions, fuming internally and opened my chop box. My mother had given me some antibiotics because she feared I might not be able to bear the cold. They saw the medication, my gari, sugar, milo, nido, milk, and some shit and closed the chop box. Sister Mary asked if I were a sickle cell carrier, I said no. then one senior who had obviously come from prep said;
“Stop it o, these children, some of them are witches. She may not tell you her problems until you are standing in front of Kwaku Agyare.”
Mum Cee 