…continued from part 1
While waiting for my fate to be decided, a consoling voice whispered into my heart in a soft tune, “What is worth living for is worth dying for. At least, you died for what you are passionate about”.
I submitted to fate and closed my eyes, expecting my painful end. – Akeem Badru
Twist of Fate
Suddenly! I heard a loud voice from the crowd. I opened my eyes to see whose question cast away what looked like a spell that made everyone not listen to me in the first place.
Behold! It was a young lady of about 18 to 21 years. She had raised her voice to ask boldly, “who exactly is this man trying to use for ritual”?
Everyone started looking at each other; they could not lay hold of evidence against me; everyone had gathered based on hearsay.
The mob requested that the guy who accused me provide proof that I was a ritualist. “I suspected him because he was well-dressed and begging for N50. How can a well-dressed man beg for alms if it was not for a ritual purpose?” He submitted unapologetically.
He was then asked whether he had given the requested N50, he responded negatively.
While the cross-examination was on, I handed out my identity card to prove that I am a teacher and not a ritualist as accused. The angry mob who had earlier fumed to burn me alive became my sympathizers. I heaved a sigh of relief!
Finally, the shameful and humiliating hour of death passed over me. I could barely stand, talkless of walking as my legs were trembling when I was eventually set free. I managed to walk away from the scene and arrived home in a sober mood.
Safe at Last
I walked into my house like an accident victim who could hardly determine the extent of the pain caused by the accident until the later part of the day.
The extent of the trauma caused by the incident manifested when I got home. I burst into tears at every attempt to narrate my ugly experience to my wife, aged mother and children. Uncontrollably, they all joined me without knowing the reason for my tears.
I summoned courage and narrated my ordeal. After I concluded, my wife hugged me and cried helplessly. I could not hold back my emotions when she was joined by mother and children. The children cried themselves to sleep.
When school finally resumed after about seven months of #Covid-19 academic break, I was super excited that I would have the opportunity to use the projector to give my pupils a new and exciting learning experience.
I became disappointed and traumatized when I discovered that my classroom could not generate the needed shade required by the projector to transmit the beam of light onto the bigger screen. This development usually makes me feel traumatized, especially each time I see the projector lying uselessly in my village room.
However, I have resolved never to give up. I will keep my hope alive that I will one day facilitate the construction of a new block of two classrooms in my school. This will guarantee a befitting teaching and learning atmosphere for the pupils of Ogunpa Lunloye.
I am therefore soliciting your support to build a new block of two classrooms for pupils of Ogunpa Lunloye. This is the only achievement that can heal me of the trauma from my N50 experience.
Kindly reach out to me on LinkedIn via DM if you want to support this project.
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