WHEN BEAUTY BECOMES A CRIME(EPISODE 1)

Banji felt a rough hand tapping on his back. Felix again? He lamented within him. Twice he had asked him a non-relevant question, and he had shunned him. Mr. Adeyemi, the commerce teacher, was still writing on the chalkboard. If students were caught talking in his class he would not only send them out, but herd them to the bush for sanitation. So, Banji decided not to respond. “Beejay, Beejay, see the babe I told you about,” whispered Felix. The girl he told him about? He wondered, the new student in SS1 H…three classes away. Banji decided to take a quick glance across the window since his row was next to the window. The girl was handling a drawing pad against her left side, now climbing up the low step that was situated at the front door of his classroom. As he observed her appearance, his heart boomed behind his chests like series of gunshots. He turned his head and watched her catwalk towards her classroom. Like a little child that just watched a rainbow disappear from the sky, Banji was downcast once she was out of sight. He was beguiled not by the fact that she was a new student, but that she looked like a new creature. Her girlish features were too stunning. What with that brilliant complexion, coloured and smooth as a bronze, a slim figure, petite waist and moderate hips that suited her blue pinafore and the blue-cum-white patterned undershirt. “What is your business outside there?” Mr. Adeyemi’s voice struck through his heart like a lightning bolt. “Come out here! I already know your class is full of criminals.” When Banji raised the plank that enclosed his seat, he realized he wasn’t the only one. Felix was also there, alongside six other boys that had their lockers by the window. “I caught you all red-handed. You don’t need to point at anyone.” Mr. Adeyemi said to three other boys. Nine of them walked towards Mr. Adeyemi who was already motioning them to the doorway. “Go kneel down outside and raise up your hands up. I’ll get back to you.” On the dusty verandah knelt Banji and his colleagues, facing the classroom with their hands reluctantly stretched above them. **** Oyinkansola, the girl in question, hesitated at the entrance of her classroom. She was late for class. The Fine Art Teacher was already in the classroom. She had left her drawing book in the hostel, so she had only gone to buy a new one at the mini mart. She had been informed by someone that they would have a drawing class today. This would be her first practical class in Iganmode Grammar school, Ota. She was among the best art students in her former school, Eko girls High school, but this would be her first time of attending Fine art class in IGS. “Are you part of this class?” Mr. Shodimu, the Fine art Teacher, asked from the front of the class. He had been addressing 22 students in a class with 89 lockers. There were only six female students among them. “Yes, sir,” responded Oyinkansola, curtsying, “ I left my drawing book…” “Come inside, come inside,” Mr. Shodimu quickly motioned for her to come in. “Thank you sir,” she said and headed to her locker at the third row. “As I was saying," Mr. Shodimu continued his lesson, gesticulating, “I want you to take this subject very seriously. Don’t mind those who taunt fine art students as lazy bones. They are simply envious of you… I know some of you are doing it for fun or…rather to gain marks. Hardly can we see parents that would allow their children to study Fine Art in higher institution. If you know what you are doing, you can exhibit your works abroad…In the previous class, we discussed the principles and elements of art and their applications to drawing, painting, and..." The continuation of the lesson faded to the background in Oyinkansola’s head. Her mind wandered back to about three minutes ago when she was walking past the commercial class. She had noticed how many lustful eyes that glued to her body. She chuckled at the thought that she had started having male admirers and even jealous females in her classroom and beyond. Some male teachers had started giving her special attentions. She wished she wouldn’t fall into another trap in IGS. She was once assaulted by a teacher in her former school. It was three months ago, a day after the celebration of her 18th birthday. She had recorded the date in her diary. April 17, 1995. Her mathematics teacher, Mr. Kali, had invited her to his home for a birthday gift. On getting there, he served her a coca cola drink and had one to himself. He assured her that he was doing that because she had the highest grade in mathematics the term before. Oyinkansola knew she wasn’t the best at mathematics in her class, but of course she couldn’t protest against a positive change. After taking the drink, the next thing she realized was seeing her dress and underwear lying on the floor the same way she was lying in bed next to her teacher. Mr. Kali gave a mischievous smile and asked her if she enjoyed the play. She had burst into tears in reply. Kali had warned her not to expose him, otherwise he was going to fail her in his subject and connive with other teachers against her. Without a second thought, she had reported to her parents. Oyinkansola’s father, unknown to Kali, was a chief judge in Federal high court, Lagos. Her father charged Kali to court and he was sentenced to two years imprisonment with…. “Oyinkan!” A shrill voice pierced through her ears, resonating like the crash of glassware against a concrete wall . Swiftly, her mind resumed the class. She was called by a girl that was seated three rows away from her. Mr. Shodimu had directed a question to her. When she seemed absent-minded, the girl had decided to call her name. “What did you call her name once again?” Mr. Shodimu asked the girl that called her. “Oyinkansola,” responded the girl. “Oyinkansola, what was my last statement?” As she groped through her memory, her right hand fiddled with her ear lobe. She wondered what to say. “What were you thinking? Grace had called you twice before you responded. Always pay attention in my class. Okay?” “Yes, sir.” She muttered and bowed her head, slightly embarrassed. Some minutes later, Mr. Shodimu gave them a class work. He described to them a landscape or location to draw in the school compound. He asked them to submit in the next forty minutes since they were having a double period. And he asked Oyinkansola to meet him in the staffroom after the assignment. **** The offenders in commercial class were being led to the bush far behind the staffroom by one SS3 student. When the senior boy was walking past the commercial class, Mr. Akinyemi had asked him to lead them. The place was clustered with tall guava trees and under each tree were dry leaves gathering in messy mounds, mingling with the tall dry grasses. The senior boy measured to them a large area which they must clear. The acrid odour of the vegetation surged into their nostrils and practically upsetting some stomachs. The senior boy untied an elastic rope from a pile of rust, improvised machetes. Hardly had the machetes scattered on the ground when they started struggling for those with less brown hues. They grumbled in frustration when the senior boy had left. They thought the dead tools had been specifically crafted by some wicked hands to inflict pains on them. As they bent down to work the sun burnt their backs like a wild fire. They had dispersed themselves around the area, not staying too far from each other. They started their labours in painful silence and within a few minutes, their uniforms were soaked and the grasses were nearly drenched by the sweats that had seeped from their pores in gallons. “Ha! this man too dey wicked o!” spat one of the boys, wiping his brows with his right hand, “ wetin we do to deserve this kind of punishment sef?” “Is that supposed to be a question?” responded another boy who was slapping his legs from the invisible insects that were pestering him, “I was trying to see what you people were staring at before I was caught. Had I known it was a girl…. ” “You knew! You knew!” retorted an older boy beside him, “I saw you plain, plain. You could not take away your eyes when you realized it was a girl. You wan dey proof holy-holy here?” “Make nobody dey lie here o,” Banji protested from the other end, “abeg, If to say you look am commot face, shey Adeyemi go see you?” “Na wa oo,” laughed Felix, from beside Banji, “Who go resist that sexy girl?” “It’s high time I taught these teachers a lesson!” fumed another person behind Banji and Felix, “even when I dey JSS3 class, Mrs. Ogundiran wey wicked pass see herself!” They asked the boy to tell them what he’d done to the teacher. He narrated to them how the teacher had caned him severely in the class and that he applied some spiritual oil on the bruises when he arrived home. He said the teacher must have been healed by a powerful herbalist before resuming work about two months after. “Oh, oh, oh, it’s true o,” a boy who had been in the same class pointed out, “I observed she always rolled a white hankie around her hand. And she was represented by a student teacher for quite a while…. ” As they discussed, some of them were cutting while others were packing their portions of chopped-off grasses in heaps at a separate clearing. The boy was speaking not too loud, but they could all hear him. The boy bragged that his grandfather was a medicine man. He listed how many girls he had sexed in the jungle behind the school with the aid of a magic ring. None of them doubted him. They knew of few students that used amulets and other charms whenever there was an inter-school battle. During inter-sports such as race, a brawl must occur—mostly from other schools. One of them taunted the boy as a coward who was unable to propose to a girl. He protested that he only used the ring for hard girls who had insulted him or failed replying to his many love letters. Three of the students suddenly stood up straight, dropped their machetes, and fixed their eyes at the football field, about forty feet away. The other boys noticed this and diverted their attentions to the same direction. They saw the object of their plights among the students that were arranging their desks on a straight line. They knew those students were about to draw the male hostel which was close to where they were clearing. “Her name is Oyinkansola,” said one of the boys. “A beautiful name too,” responded another person. After admiring her for a while, they all resumed their works. Soon, Oyinkansola and her classmates started drawing. About forty minutes later, the school bell rang for short break. By that time, the boys were almost rounding up their cuttings. But Banji had cleared his own portion entirely. He decided to go try his luck with Oyinkansola. At that moment, he saw his colleagues huddling together. He heard Olumide, the boy who claimed to have a magic ring, saying he would enchant Oyinkansola. He said they would all rape her together in the jungle. “We can’t just suffer for nothing now,” Olumide added, “Just wait till closing time. All I need is just to touch her.” The other boys burst into laughter, and they agreed that the plan was the best. They believed a beautiful girl like Oyinkansola might be very hard to seduce. Felix called Banji to come over. “I’m with you guys,” Banji said, pretending as if he was searching for something within the mound of grass. Banji seemed to have a strong feeling for Oyinkansola, and he didn’t want anyone to hurt her. He believed his colleagues only had lust for her. He began to formulate his own plan on how to save her from the terrible incident. 

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