No Title

“Ehhh...emmm…Excuse me sir.”

The voice was unsteady, not sure of its request. But still it caught my attention. I turned, looked backward to see where it originated from. It was a guy. Already I was in no mood for a chitchat. My heart was in sores. I had left a bank that morning in a rage after I was told I couldn't withdraw from my account. Reason. It was dormant. And I needed few bucks for the weekend.

I finally stopped. The guy hurried up, spotting a slight limp as I thought he was trying to catch shelter under my little umbrella. It was raining. And the rain was doing justice to the day, trying to nail it to the earth and waste its morning. It was one of such days you wished you didn't leave the house if you were married.

“Good morning sir, did you teach at...(names withheld)?” He asked, regaining his voice as he finally caught up with me.

I took a closer look at him. A handsome plump dude of average height. His face marked with fading bruises around the corners of his right cheek and eye. The face registered. “Wait! I blurted out as he attempted to say his name. “Wait, don't say it. I will remember it.” 10 seconds later, it registered. “You are...The mention of his name sent him into rapture.

We exchanged banters. Talked about life and did a bit catch-up. He wasn't longer interested in furthering in his education after a sad incident that left him scared. He told me he was into miscellaneous businesses, trying to make ends meet. I encouraged him, advising him to stay off illicit deals and the quick cash syndrome.

“Unclelo, abeg take this,” he dipped his hand inside his pocket as we moved to part. Brought out some naira bills and squeezed them into my reluctant hand. I could have rejected outright but I remembered such refusal might bruise a man's ego. Most especially if the gesture was done out of sincerity.

“E no matter jo. It's just my little way of appreciating you,” he said, as if he read me. With his squeezed bills clasped in my hand, I thanked him and we parted.

I didn’t teach this particular guy. His class was almost leaving when I was hired. That was six years ago. But I knew him too well because he was one of the big boys in the school, and I was the youngest among the teaching staff. I was just fresh from the university. Naturally, they saw me as their peer. I was barely five years older than some of them. And my lean size, and baby-face never made it any easier for me. But I made sure they obeyed my instructions, their assignments promptly done and submitted at the right time. No excuses. Either that or defaulters faced my cane.

Sometimes though it did cross my mind suppose these kids ganged up against me after school hours to show me hell for my perceived strictness? (Am laughing my skull open here). There were cases where the students had had to slap or beat up other teachers. And the irony of it is that their targets were always those teachers who were soft on them. I bet students know who have their best interest at heart even when you discipline them.

I had on several occasions run into some of the students. Either they curtsied, paid accolades or gave me tips. It never mattered to them that I had changed two jobs and was looking better since I left the teaching profession. And that my wardrobe had been beefed up (insert evil smile here, pls).

That morning incident was not the first for me. Not even a second. And I believe won't be the last. Such encounters often leave me nostalgic. Wish I could go back to teaching. But hey, won’t a guy do what he ought to do?