My happiest moment was leaving secondary school.

I remember it like yesterday, because it was one of the most euphoric moments I ever witnessed. Mind you, I do not say this because I had the honour of attending one of the most rugged paramilitary/military boarding schools in the country or due to the fact that as a civilian student I had to pay more. But because I was finally relieved to end my six(6) year sojourn of being terrorized by senior students, that were not so senior considering their age, and soldiers. Yes soldiers, who considered students as an outlet to channel frustrations caused by their wives, extended family or senior military officers (but well discuss that another time). I wasnt privileged to attend Day secondary school, talk less of a civilian one and although Im proud to represent my Alma-Ata as an Ex-Commando(whatever that means) I then realized that with the great name (command secondary school), came greater torture (trust me, I'm so not exaggerating). With the end of my final exams (WASCCE/NECO) I sure was elated to leave my nightmare for home (so excited that I refused to attend the valedictory service). Thinking my quest for knowledge was temporally suspended, I was proven wrong once again by my father. Arriving where I called home, I had an encounter my dad, although partly happy to receive me, sat me down for a heart to heart talk explaining that he had taken the liberty to enrol me for a couple of holiday lessons (tutors for hire) to include GCE and the dreaded JAMB examination. Yes, JAMB, a feared name that simply means Joint Admissions and Matriculations Board Exam & is often seen as the introductory point of large scale corrupt practices in the Nigerian education system. During this talk with dad, the shocked expression on my face said it all. I remember my dad telling me he was only fulfilling his social obligation by educating me and if I failed the exams, I was on my own....There and then, reality hit me as I began to consider what bridge I would sleep under if I disappointed the Old man (observing that the oshodi and mile2 bridges were already occupied by street urchins). I then realized that the holiday was actually over for me, before it even began, since I was expected to study hard so as to gain entrance into the though and competitive Nigerian university system. In an attempt not to bore you with my rebellious attitude during these lessons, Ill cut right to the chase, the JAMB exams. The pressure got worse when I found out via research that over 45% of Nigerians, trust me I did the arithmetic , (a large number that comprised of people who where way older and experienced than I was) participated in this exam and never made the pass mark for admission. Armed with fear and my statistics, I arrived my designated exam centre early and began to beat myself up feeling I hadnt done extensive research as the population at the venue seem to outmatch my 45% research figure and at some point I began to considered my chances at the bridge were better. Walking around, I observed that about 70% of the candidates were way older, I guessing between the ages of 26 & 40 while I was barely 16. So what chance did I have?

Finally entering the centre, mean looking supervisors in their bid to prevent candidates from cheating subjected us to threats, that I later found out to be ridiculous and empty, though their mean glares gave the impression that they were on official business. Thirty minutes into the examination one of the stern looking officials calmly walked into my classroom, pointing at a couple of students giving them orders to follow him. I thought they had been caught cheating, but with the smug smirk on their faces one would have assumed they had being informed that the president was conferring some sort of national honors on them. In my confused state, I reluctantly inquired from my seat partner on the development. She smiled and asked if this was my first seating on the exam, I told her yes. She then hastily explained that the candidates, who were called up, termed special candidates, had an agreement with the exam officials as they paid these officials to provide answers for them. Subconsciously shaking my head, I then heard her giggle and say to no one in particular omo see JAMBITE thus, intensifying my fear. After a few minutes she stealthy produced a piece of paper from her bra shading whatever the piece of paper directed her to and when she was through, she did something I never expected. She asked Boy, you don finish your English? I get correct answer here, if you wan use just tell me. After politely declining her offer, because of my strict religious background, she just laughed saying you no wan cross check your work? Na confirmed something be this o! trying so hard to resist temptation as I thought of a witty comeback, the candidate behind me stood with the confidence of a soldier and with a mean swagger strutted to an exam official, covertly offering him money then returning to his seat with a piece of paper containing the alleged examination answers. Just when I thought I had seen it all, pandemonium broke in the hall as cell phones began to chirp alerting their owners that their problems had been solved (if you know what I mean) and at this point, I began to think this was a reality show by some Nigerian entertainer with a twisted sense of humour. Hopelessly realizing this was for real, I surprisingly found the courage to finish my papers and was eager to leave the centre fearing that I might not only give into temptation at the last minute but might be implicated for something I was innocent of. Upon my arrival home (obviously in shock) dad began to badger me with questions how was the exam? Did you finish up? Whats the result going to be like?...... At some point I tuned out his voice and was on auto pilot.... I then did something I rarely did. I got down on my knees and said a long prayer. After praying to the Big Man, the voice in my head asked is this it?