Then came the 60 seconds ease, it is like the rich man burning in hell, making a supplication to  Lazarus for just a drop of water, when he gets it though, there is but a second of invigoration then, the agony intensifies again. Swiftly I stood up, scuttling to ask the teacher for permission. “Uncle I want to go to the toilet” I asked hurriedly, I didn’t even remember what his response was, I was in motion concurrently.

I dashed out of the classroom, only one destination in my mind, the toilet. I was doing a scurrying movement at this point, moving in a hurried pace but with small fast step because, though there is need for speed, it is of parallel importance to squeeze super tight to prevent any funny scenario. It was looking like the end of the tunnel already, where light will become conspicuous, then came this excruciating dyspepsia like a rushing wind, it was as if my bowels will explode and give way to the might rustling brownish dirty flood of poo. I was inadvertently compelled to a halt, I dare not move at this junction, and the way I had to squeeze my vent up tight I feared I might have turned the poor thing inside out.

I was in this stance when this female junior student, that I think we both have a mutual fascination for each other came walking by, I guess she was returning from the convenience too. Ah Senior Wale why are you standing here? Where are you going? I didn’t see you in the kitchen today, shey you are skipping meals again, Is it…? Do you…? She kept on loquaciously.

 Why don’t you just go your way and just leave me with my cross already I muttered inside, I muddled through telling her we would talk during prep in the evening. Ok o she said, as she sluggishly walked past me, I guess she must have being confused and offended at the same time. I didn’t care, whatever mood she has contracted from this abrupt conversation is a million times better than the vibe she’ll contract when she sees me poo on my body, it was really feeling like that’s the next call of action as I was standing still on that spot, squeezing, really tight.

Then emerged the 60 seconds moment of respite, o boy did I sprint. In my mind, I was like, the recurring eruption would meet right in the toilet, my very butt already kissing the cavity of the white bowl-shaped fixture in rest room, then I would with vigor dispense this “magma” troubling to let loose, and boy was I fulfilling purpose and destiny until I got to the final destination itself.

I was just right by the door of the rest room, just about opening door, when all hell was let loose, my vent lost guard, it couldn’t take it anymore, whether it was that it couldn’t hold up effectively at such speed or it was that all immunity has been exhausted I could not tell. The only certainty here was the flood gate opening, and it was really in abundance.

The beauty of “Senior Wale’s big boy” is slain in the front of the toilet door, how are the mighty fallen in the midst of “the battle”. I’m definitely not telling this in “Gath”, neither am I planning to publish this in the streets of Ashkelon. No one would hear this, no one should ever be subjected to the horror of such repugnant account. I apprehensively looked to the right and to the left to be sure no one is a witness to this, then I listlessly walked inside the toilet, dragging my now heavyweight and dripping butt to the toilet.

While in the toilet, I began ruminating on how everything played out, how I got so close and messed everything up just before the very end. ‘’Ko lohun ma je ka shubu danu….. shey mi o ti wa shubu danu bayii’’ (may we not fall and lose everything) I murmured as I was fazed with the conundrum of getting myself, body and uniform all cleaned up.



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