BRIDGED FACE
A short story from Oluwafemi Babasola
On this Thursday, she was wearing a white T–shirt on sky blue jeans. Her head was wrapped in a short yolk-yellow bandana, revealing her newly plaited braids. Many students could not take their eyes off her yellow wedge sandals with what looked like two diamond stones on them while she coordinated the morning assembly.
She entered our class with her usual elegance and flashed her set of white teeth while two deep holes emerged on both sides of her sparkling, brown face as she greeted the class.
“Good morning class.”
“Good morning ma.” The class echoed back her words in excitement. Miss Titi was envied by both students and teachers of Joy To The World International College. Everyone loved her for her beauty, her eloquence and her smile.
“How was your night?” She asked as her big, white eyeballs scanned our faces. If there was anyone who cared enough to help the hungry or those in need, it was her. She once gave me her lunch– dodo1 and fried egg when I lost my pocket money.
Moreover, which student does not like a teacher who always forgets to bring pankere2 to class? She was the only teacher at Joy To World International College who would not beat a student, no matter their offense. She’d call the student by name and tell them not to repeat the act.
‘It was fine ma. And yours?” That was how we responded to such questions, irrespective of what our nights or weekends looked like.
“I slept well. Well today, we’ll be learning about the sense organs.”
Our beloved Integrated Science teacher observed the class was stuffy and asked those who sat by the windows to open them for ventilation. Our class was always stuffy because there were students who were always against the opening of the windows. Another faction resisted setting the fan to its highest speed.
The windows were opened and air rushed into the class. Light flooded the class of 36 students. The maps and calendars hanging on the walls of the class seemed to have changed to lighter shades of their original colours.
The colour of the classroom walls which looked like custard also turned to the colour of condensed milk. The white ceiling which was already turning grey looked whiter too. Only the brown ceiling fans refused to change at the touch of light.
She marched to the board and scribbled something on the board. I wasn’t sure if what I was seeing was sense organs or smell organs but no one asked. Everyone accepted her beauty and her only flaw- her handwriting. She always managed to confuse us with whatever she wrote on the board, but we loved her nonetheless.
“So, who knows anything about sense organs?” Five hands went up. It was obvious, I was willing to say whatever I knew about the sense or smell organs. Flashing her white teeth, she pointed at me.
“Femi, tell us. What are sense organs?” I got on my feet, confidently flashing my teeth back at her.
“Sense organs are the organs of the body capable of receiving stimuli and transmitting them to the brain. They help us to understand our environment. The five sense organs are the eyes, the nose, the ear, the skin, and the tongue.” I pointed to the parts of my body I had mentioned.
But before I finished my last statement, giggles erupted from the back of the class. It was Samson’s voice. Everyone knew his voice because it haunted us all.
He was the oldest and biggest student in JSS 1B. At 13, he was as tall as many of the teachers in the school and showed no courtesy to anyone, not even the principal.
A thin black scar ran from his left ear to his chin dividing his brown face into two halves. Behind his back, we called him “Bridged Face” and prayed none of his informants or friends heard us gossip about him.
Whoever he caught in the act told the story with pains or scars on their body.
“Oversabi3” he had whispered. His friends laughed. Samson wasn’t only big, he was also a bully.
I dared not look at him or try to sneer back at the bridge on his face or his torn uniform. That would mean an application for an overdose of his beatings.
