It
was a strange month. The Harmattan winds flung mangoes into our
laboratory and Sade had begun to fall in love with Sade. Like the school
year, that love was strange too. It was nothing like a feminine love,
the familiar kind that transpired between two happy girls. No. Sade
loved Sade – a girl who bullied the back of our class loved our Head
Girl. And she did so like a boy.
Sade, our Head
Girl hated this; for Sade did not only love like a boy – she also spoke
like one, walked like one, ate, screamed and laughed like one. She was
boyish. She was wild. And although, all of these translated into distant
favours and red cards with pleasantly handwritten ‘I love you’s, Sade
bore an insular disgust for Sade. It left both full of thin breaths.
***
Silent
chemistry class. Mr. Olagbaju is also disgusted, but by sandy mangoes
that invade our laboratory every morning. They are everywhere again
today. He stares at them, his teeth firmly clenched.
‘Did
I not instruct her?!’ he shouts and grabs his cane. ‘Did I not instruct
the head girl to make sure that I see these no more?’
She is rising with fear when we hear a voice from the back of the class, ‘She told me to do it. I am responsible, sir’.
It was Sade. She lied
Two lashes.
***
Two PM. I hear Sade told Sade off, ‘But I do not love you’.
***
Two AM. I can see a boyish shadow strutting around our corridor.
‘Sade, what are you doing?’ I asked.
The sad voice came, ‘I can learn to walk like a girl.’
… It is a strange month.
Oyin Oludipe is a Nigerian writer whose works have appeared in Magma Magazine, Kalamu Review, Ijagun Poetry Journal, The Guardian and other national dailies. He listens to Asa when he is not writing ad copies or curating Hairy Diary, his blog of poetry and photography.www.oyinoludipe.blogspot.com
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