A STORY
BY
Henry Chukwuemeka Onyema
Dennis sat absolutely still, silently calling upon those skills of control he had learnt years ago as Mr. Ola talked. His face betrayed nothing of the raging inferno in his head as he stared across the desk at his boss, a brown skinned, six-footer with a paunch barely reined in by his smartly ironed blue shirt, pinstripe tie and flawless black trousers. When he finished there was almost total silence in the office, only punctured by the purr of the air-conditioning system.
‘‘Well?’’ Mr. Ola asked, clearly uncomfortable at the younger man’s continued silence.
‘‘Well what, sir?’’ Dennis’ voice was calm and ostensibly unruffled.
‘‘Have you no response to the allegation? I called you in to hear your own side of the story. The allegation is weighty, and given your position in the college, it is decent to engage you informally before following official channels.’’
Dennis smiled. Mr. Ola saw a tiger rising to a crouch in the brief movement of his angular facial muscles. The Government/Civic Education teacher replied.
‘‘What do you want me to say? According to you, the evidence is clear. The CCTV captured Sade entering my room on Sunday by 7.30pm. Clearly she came for a ’knacking’ session with me. Abi no be so?’’ The pidgin words rolled off his tongue with the same cadence as the good English. He swiftly got to his feet before the Head Teacher could utter a word. He was a fraction or so shorter than his boss but he was slim and retained a physically fit frame. Unwilling to be intimidated, Mr. Ola stood up, a scowl on his face.
‘‘Sit down, Mr. Ika.’’ His voice rang with authority.
But Dennis had reached the point of no return. ‘‘And listen to more tales by moonlight? No, sir. I have had enough. Please go ahead and do what your goddamned rule book says. It is a pity the college director lacks the balls to talk to me like a man. But you can take this from me to him: this school will collapse on your heads if you go on like this.’’
Hot anger filled Mr. Ola’s face. But what he saw in Dennis’ unblinking stare chilled him to the bones. He had never seen it before. It was cold, unadulterated murder.
‘‘I expect your response to the query before the end of work today,’’ he said tightly, swallowing his fear. ‘‘You may go.’’
To his amazement Dennis shut the door quietly behind him.
He returned to the staffroom, deliberately ignoring the expectant eyes and occasional whispered conversations as he sat at his desk. Such early morning summons to the Head Teacher’s office had become standard fare in recent times, and were usually harbingers of reception of white envelope at the end of the term. White envelope was the baptismal name for sack letter among the staff of Glorious Heights College, one of Lagona’s oldest and elite boys’ secondary schools. The white envelopes had been churning out at a rather dizzying pace in the last two years. Clearly Reverend Doctor Hawkins Mayowa, the new director who took over from Reverend Alfred Okeke who had retired after a distinguished career spanning close to thirty-seven years in the services of the mission that established Glorious Heights, had his ideas about how to uplift the school. Showing the gate to staff, especially old staff, who did not meet his standards, was one of them. The middle-aged martinet’s whip did not exclude the students, either. The college population had shrunk by a quarter since he assumed office.
Dennis glanced at his wristwatch. Thank God I have no classes till the last two periods before dismissal. Tuesday was his only light day on an otherwise choked timetable. He pocketed the query, packed some books and a pen and retired to the library.
Seated in a cubicle, he read the query the Head Teacher had issued him as soon as he came to work through the school secretary, Marrick Mustapha. Certain phrases and sentences in the letter brought mirthless smiles to his lips. Sentences like ‘Your unprofessional relationship with Miss Sade Thompson contravenes Article 4, Chapter 5 of the College Staff Policy Book,’….’the inappropriateness of Miss Sade Thompson coming to your apartment at that hour when there were no official duties demanding her attention on campus….’ ‘The college demands a cogent explanation of the purpose of her visit to your room when she does not live in the compound.’
He put the paper down and wondered if his responses so far were the best. That savage voice that urged him to rearrange the body parts of the Head Teacher, the College Director, the College Security Officer and all other people involved in this farce had not totally died in his head. He knew he was fully capable of doing such but perhaps his strongest restraint was Sade herself.
Sade had finally let her dam burst when they were in her office in the Biology laboratory after she called him aside to show him the sanctimoniously worded suspension without pay letter the Head Teacher had given her pending completion of the school’s investigations into ‘allegations of your unholy socialization with Mr. Dennis Ika at his apartment on campus at 7.30pm on Sunday.’
‘‘But I thought there is usually a query letter,’’ Dennis said, his shock giving way to blazing anger.
‘‘Mr. Ola said it did not apply in my case because of past cases about my conduct on relating matters.’’ Sade sniffed.
Dennis turned to stone. He knew the Head Teacher had warned her privately to stop being ‘over friendly’ with some male colleagues, especially Dennis. What he meant by ‘over friendly’ was not exactly spelt out. Then five months ago she had been accused of romancing the most handsome boy in SS3A. The fact that thorough investigations by the authorities proved that the allegation was a lie cooked up by a group of the boy’s classmates who were angry that she rejected their appeals for extra marks in Biology tests did not weigh in her favour in this new situation.
The tears that rinsed her dark attractive face broke Dennis’ heart. He resisted an almost overwhelming urge to hug her.
‘‘The bastards,’’ he gritted.
Sade knew him very well, better than anyone on the College staff. She knew he was capable of undiluted mayhem at that point.
‘‘I beg you, Dennis, ejoo. Don’t do anything stupid. Or rash.’’ She paused and gave him a penetrating look. ‘‘Or bloody. For my sake, please.’’
Dennis took a deep calming breath. He nodded.
‘‘No doubt my guillotine is on the way. Okay, I will see you tomorrow.’’ They held hands briefly and smiled comfortingly at each other. Since it was break time Dennis saw her to the school gate. To hell with anyone who sees us, he thought. The firing squad has already done its work.
TO BE CONTINUED
Henry Chukwuemeka Onyema is a Nigerian author, historian and teacher. Email: henrykd2009@yahoo.com
