Justin joined Springdale Schools after a stint at Beesway Group of School, located on the outskirts of California. He wondered if he could ever forget the clash he had with the Beesway management regarding an error he spotted in the school's name. As the senior English teacher, he had pointed out that the name ought to be 'Beesway Group of Schools', not 'Group of School'. He noted that the phrase, 'group of, implies there were more than one school; therefore, the singular noun was incorrect.
"Sir, it is like saying, 'a group of man' when we mean a group of men'," he explained to the director, Mr. Egi Meko. "Or like saying, 'a collection of bag' or 'a bevy of bird' instead of "a collection of bags' and a bevy of birds"."
"Which one is bevy?" Meko asked, as if that was the only aspect of Bepo's argument that interested him..
"It means a large group of people or things, like 'a herd of cows' and not 'a herd of cow'."
The director thanked the learned linguistas he often called him for the observation. Then he asked what exactly the senior English teacher wanted him to do. He knew where Bepo was headed but he feigned ignorance. In the recess of his mind, Mr. Meko actually laughed derisively because he could not contemplate changing his school's name in any way. Firstly, he reasoned, that was the name on all the school's facilities and documents. Secondly, it was the name registered at the Corporate Affairs Commission and the Ministry of Education.
"The most important reason I cannot change the name of my school," Meko explained to Justin, "is that the name was divinely inspired. If I would put it another way, I will say it has a spiritual undertone. I believe you understand, because you are not a kid. What has 'group of school' got to do with the quality education we impart here? Do you know how well my students have been performing in external exams, talk less of internal examinations? Group of school! Are students complaining? No. Are parents complaining? No. Are the external examiners complaining? No. Is the government complaining? No. So, Mr. Justin, the Englisher, let's leave the matter as it is. I know there is no word like Englisher. Just joking with you."
"Ironically, there is, sir," Justin struggled to correct his boss, even if he had to overlook the error in 'talk less'. He knew what the director ought to have said was "let alone'
"You don't mean't?" Meko exclaimed, ostentatiously, pronouncing 'mean it' in a way he believed was super British or American.
I do. It is even in the dictionaries. It refers to a person who translates from a foreign language into English." Waol That means I am almost an Englisher too," the director said and added, "considering that I even used the word off head."
Justin skipped a breath as the erroneous phrase, 'off head', struck him. But he did not think the atmosphere was right to begin another round of correction. Besides, he felt the first grammatical blunder, which the director ought to have accepted most readily, was being downplayed.
Justin thought: what was the big deal in changing 'Group of School' to 'Group of Schools'? Firstly, the management could start by effecting the change on the school's signboards on the premises, then move on to all files, books, etc. It could then proceed to the Corporate Affairs Commission, the Ministry, and other relevant bodies
After the unsuccessful encounter, Justin again raised the matter with the boss a couple of times because the grammatical palaver was happening in his subject territory. It was particularly insulting of his pedigree as the Senior English Language Teacher in the school. But something happened that finally made Justin shut his mouth.
During a meeting of the school's Parent-Teacher Association, a parent raised the matter, backed by some others. As she spoke, the director fixed his eyes on Justin, who was sat in the front row. The look was fierce and furious. The director appeared to be asking: "So, you have taken your madness to this level?"
Immediately the meeting was over, the director summoned Justin to his office and accused him of plotting to destroy the school through his 'too-know mentality. Justin explained that he never did what the director had in mind. That is: tell the parent about the error in the school's name.
"Elefo, o' o, ni 000. O lefon oun kii s' efo aatan. Ta ni ko mo'pe ara lo n fuu?" the director said, referencing a Juayu proverb about guilt. It told the story of a hawker of vegetables plucked from a filthy dumpsite. A buyer simply calls out to her, having no intention to probe the source of the product. But burdened with guilt, and seeking to assure the buyer of feigned quality, the hawker retorts: These vegetables are not from any dumpsite."
Justin did all he could to convince the director that he never discussed the matter with any parent. He even swore, touching the crucifix that hung from his neck. It was Justin's characteristic way of declaring, I am saying the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Whenever he desperately needed to make a point, he reached for the object. While that was enough to make some people believe him, the director remained unconvinced. "You can choose between working here or criticising the name of the school that pays your salary," he said with a tone of finality. Justin's experience at Beesway was quite tumultuous but it was not on account of wanting to correct the 'Group of School' blunder that he left. He walked away voluntarily because of a matter he considered ungodly. He was not a great Churchgoer. All the same, he believed he was close to God. When his wife was still in UK, she used to lure or coerce him to go to church on Sundays. He often left her behind at the auditorium as he had a habit of disappearing as soon as the service ended Seri was a member of three groups in the church and often attended post-service meetings. Justin was originally a Catholic, but the woman convinced him to join her Pentecostal Truth Tellers Mission. As soon as she relocated to the UK, however, he returned to his Catholic faith, where he felt at home. It was 2:30am. The almost pin-drop silence in Ojikutu showed nature maintains a disciplined order, no matter the place or time. Here was a California suburb, ever busy during the day and through the night. Now, it was calm, quiet; save for an occasional whistle by some security guards.
Justin lay on his bed in his room at the Beesway Staff Quarters. He had forced himself to bed at 12:00am. But sleep just wouldn't kiss his eyes, He had slept lavishly in the afternoon, being a Sunday. Whenever he spent long hours in bed during the day, he was sure the night would find him miserable, searching elusively for a nap. He wondered what he must do to fall asleep. He thought about sedatives. Sadly, he had none in the room. He was aware doctors rarely encouraged their use. The drugs could, among other risks, lead to addiction. But at nights when the goddess of sleep became too miserly with her drowsy bosom, Justin cared less what any doctor thought. He would toss a capsule or two down his throat. Moments afterwards, he would snore.
He rose from the bed and headed for the refrigerator in a corner of the room. He needed a cup of cold water. Perhaps, that might do the trick, he thought. He had switched off the light in the room. He barely needed it as rays from the floodlights positioned at different corners of the premises lit the room faintly. He peered through the window, his dry eyes viewing much of the large space that included the assembly ground. He moved closer and drew the blinds sideways. Suddenly, the floodlights went off. Every light at the length and breadth of the school premises was off. What happened? Yet, Justin noticed that, two hundred meters or more away from the
school, lights were still on. As the puzzle lingered, Justin thought he saw something move in the dark. It looked human. Then he saw another, and another, and yet another! What could they be? He studied the shapes intently. As the movements continued, it became clearer what the mystery was. Of course, they were not ghosts. They were humans. But who could they be? He stared harder through the darkness. His eyes were not betraying his mind. A torch flashed through the void. Justin's confusion thickened. It was 2:51am. No student was expected to be out at such an unholy hour. No teacher either.
As his eyes attuned to the darkness, Justin picked out five men. He also made out a large whitish thing, moving alongside the men. It was a cow. Apparently, one of the