Written by Delz Erinle
Everyone can remember their first day at something or somewhere they’ve waited a long time for. First day at a a job, at school or even; of marriage. We pray it is everything we hope it will be, while keeping in mind or avoiding—as the case may be—the possibility of it all going terribly wrong.
“Bye Ayo, be a good boy, I love you.” Mum says as she rushes into the back seat of the car, the driver—Mr Moses—inserts the key into the ignition, the engine revs and they are on their way.
As I watch the car speed off; Mum sticks her arm out the window and waves frantically. Tears well up in my eyes. It hits me that I’m going to miss home and I begin to rethink my decision to school so far away from Abuja—In Ibadan— at 10.
The car speeds down the road as I stare and soon only the road is left. I use the bottom my oversized green and white checkered house wear, to wipe my eyes quickly. I notice an oil stain just above my breast pocket— a wound from my battle with a stewed chicken thigh earlier— and wonder how I’d get it off.
“Soak in Omo for a while and use B-29 to wash it off.” I heard mum’s voice reverberate in my head.
My blue Casio wristwatch says 6:34pm and the sun begins to set in agreement. I observe other parents hug and kiss their kids goodbye as though they are being sent off to war.
“Write me a letter please?” One parent asks, with a peck on her son’s forehead.
“Don’t forget what I told you about Mosquitos.” Says another.
I pull my box through the interlocking tiles and make my way to the reception of the hostel painted green and brown, with a silver coloured Zinc roof.
“What’s your room number?” asks a light skinned man seated at the reception. He’s wearing a white pinstriped shirt, with an unbuttoned cutaway collar and a dark blue tie. The dotty stubble around his face makes me believe he’s in his early thirties.
“I’m not sure sir” I reply, checking my documents but not finding the sheet of paper where the room number appears.
“You’ve lost it already? You’re not ready for life here.” He says, shaking his head in disbelief.
“What’s your last name?” He asks.
“Erinle, E-R-I” “I know how to spell Erinle” he butts in, looking through a book with names and room numbers.
“You’re in room 9, go through that lawn, up the first stairs, its the second room on the corridor. ”
“Thank you sir.” I say, making my way to the room, pulling my box through a path on the lawn.
As I thread through the lawn, insects nod the flickering yellow lightbulbs, it rains lightly and smells of dead dung beetles, moth wings and freshly cutlassed grass. The time keeper rings the bell for dinner, but I am too tired to make it.
I just want to sleep.
I get into the room. It’s square shaped, with a metal bunk and wooden locker on every side of the room; bar the one side that has a door and two windows. It smells of fresh paint and wet shoes. The ceiling fan sounds like a ragged hamster as it spins; repeatedly, it squeaks from exhaustion.
“If you’re obedient and well behaved, the seniors won’t bully you.” I hear Dad’s voice repeat in my head, as I unlock my box, get my beddings and begin to lay my bed.
All first years get the top bunks and the second years sleep beneath them. I lock and toss my box underneath my bed—too lazy to unpack—hop into my bed with a bottle of water and Enid Blyton’s “The Famous Five.” About three pages in, I fall asleep.
I wake up to the sound of chatter, drink some water and—pretending to be asleep— quietly eavesdrop and observe, while I occasionally glance at those conversing from underneath my duvet.
“Tunde have you heard Diddy’s We Invented the Remix?”
Asks a light skinned Senior with an orange walk man cd player, from the bunk opposite mine.
“At all Femi, is it mad?”
Tunde says from beneath my bunk.
“It’s here on my walkman, I like this Bad Boyz for Life jam sha.”
Femi says as he gets up and walks to Tunde’s bed with the walkman, handing him one of the earpieces.
“How far Bimbo, is she still your babe?” Femi asks.
“I don’t know bro, don’t tell anyone oh, but I made out with Tola last weekend at Silverbird.” Replies Femi.
“Tola Oniyitan? haha, bad boy!” Says Tunde as he raises his hand offering Femi a hi-five.
“Trust me now.” Says Femi slapping Tunde’s raised hand.
The door swings open a senior walks into the room with a torch underneath his face—imitating a ghoul— wearing a Manchester United jersey, black joggers, and adidas slip-ons.
“I’m Mike. Have you Juniors heard of Madam Koi Koi?” He asks, standing at the door of the room.
“No” we chorus, from our top bunks.
“Great.” He replies, making his way into the room.
“Well, we’ve been looking for a student for some days now and it looks like he was killed by this demon.” He says, turning his head as he says each word to make sure he sees all our faces.
“Haha, no student was killed, you’re just trying to prank us.” Says one of the Juniors, from the bunk next to mine.
The Seniors below us begin to make statements in support.
“You mean they…they found his body?” Femi says.
“Wow, the second boy this week.” Tunde says.
“Oh God protect us from this evil” Says the last—who’s name I don’t know yet—clutching his bible and beginning to pray.
“Who…who’s Madam Koi Koi?” I ask, terribly frightened.
“Well, we had a teacher in this school called Mrs Kola. She always wore a pair of very loud heels. They made the sounds Koi, Koi, Koi; wherever she went.” Mike says, switching off the torch on his face and sitting in the middle of our dark room as he continued to narrate his story.
“One day, she got into a heated argument with a student called Nnamdi Eke – Nnamdi was infamous for his temper, always confronting teachers and insulting them. He insulted her favourite shoes and the next day, his dead body was found in the toilet, with bite marks on his neck”
“Na wa oh, so that’s really how this Nnamdi boy died, how did you find out?” Femi asks, as he gets off his bed in shock.
“Please I really want to have a good night’s rest” a Junior butts in, “I don’t like scary stories.”
“Oh don’t be a big baby, its only for your own good.” Femi says to the Junior above his bunk.
“Now, where was I?” Mike asks.
“The bite marks part.” Tunde replies from beneath my bunk.
“Oh yes… So the school starts to investigate Nnamdi’s death and after much pressure; one of his roommates says they saw him go to use the toilet late one night, and he never returned.”
“Ha! God oh.” Tunde shouts from beneath my bunk.
“All I want to advise is that you’re really careful not to leave your beds when its very late, go and use the toilet now if you must, goodnight guys.” He runs off to the next room, to spread warning to other new students.
“Ess, none of you guys should now go and bed wet because you’re too scared to use the toilet oh.” The last senior in the room belts out.
“I swear, hmm…if you try that one, we’ll mess you guys up, don’t say we didn’t warn you.” Femi says, putting two ear pieces in, going underneath his duvet, trying to fall asleep.
I stare at the ceiling fan, thinking about Madam Koi Koi and weighing the possibility of the story being real, I fall asleep soon.
I wake up at about 3am, to the hoots of owls and the harshest urge to use the toilet. I debate with myself whether to pee in my water bottle, but I don’t want trouble from my seniors this early.
I carefully make my way down the bunk, get on all fours and pull my box out from underneath the bunk, searching through it for my torch and my bible.
I realise It makes no sense to carry my bible to the toilet, so I say a short prayer, do a sign of the cross and drop King James Version on my bed. I slip on my slippers and make my way to the toilet at the end of the corridor.
As I walk down the corridor, my slippers flap with each step and the crickets chirp incessantly, rubbing the top of one wing along the teeth at the bottom of the other wing. An owl would hoot occasionally, conducting the nocturnal choir.
I get to the door of the toilet and push it open; it is as dark as a blindfold.
I click on the torch in my right hand, following the blue light as I search for the nearest cubicle. Startled by the rancid smell; I hold my nose with my thumb and index fingers—of my other hand—covering my mouth with my palm and the last three fingers; firmly held together.
I enter the third cubicle, place the torch on the ceramic cover of the WC and begin to pee.
“Koi, Koi, Koi ” I hear the sound of heels, strut down the corridor, getting closer to the end where the toilet was.
“Koi, Koi, Koi” my heart beat begins to accelerate, I wonder what to do, I check for a lock on the door, there isn’t one. “I can’t run.” I say to myself “She’ll get to me before I can escape.”
“Koi, Koi, Koi” I begin to beg, “Please don’t harm me, I’m sorry, please.”
I back off to the very end of the toilet, begging as my heart repeatedly thumps my chest.
“Koi, Koi, Koi.” The door is flung open and as I push myself to the wall of the toilet and use my arms to protect my face, I see a bright blue light.
“Ahh!” I let out a shout only to see my senior Mike laugh hysterically, almost dropping his coconut shells and camera in the process..
“It’s not f-f-fair, why would you do that?” I say with a voice that shivers, brows arched from anger and face squeezed like a sucked orange.
“I didn’t find it funny at all!” I say, picking my torch up and angrily making my way out of the toilet.
“If you tell any Junior or anyone about this, I’ll show everyone this picture of you crying in the toilet like a little wuss.” He says as he runs off with his camera and coconut shells, to most likely terrify another Junior.
I clean my snotty nose and teary eyes and promise myself not to tell anyone about my encounter.
Well…….
……….. Until now.