I remember that day clearly, as if it was set before my eyes; each moment, each action dancing back to my memory and reliving itself. It was once more real, the grasses now alive, the palm fronds at the orchard shook themselves as the wind tapped their green body and the grasses moved like the cloud which were once more skinned over in blue and white. It was once more that Sunday afternoon during siesta, some few minutes before prep time. We were still in the dormitory where I was pretending to be in deep sleep, avoiding to be caught as I took a cup of garri garnished with milk and sugar bought from aunty Wura's shop. This cup was below my bunk and as I took every spoon of soaked garri towards my mouth and swallowed it, I became more relaxed. Soon the school bell painted in green and white, formed from the rim of a vehicle went off with its most disturbing tone, ‘gbaghun gbaghun gbaghun!!’ As I rose from my bed, my stomach began to mumble loudly in an abnormal sequenc...