Night fell with a slow, suffocating darkness. The dormitory's single bulb flickered once, then went out, leaving the room steeped in shadows.
"Lights out!" a senior barked, slamming the door shut. Footsteps faded. Silence followed. But Kalu Egbe knew—this was the silence before the storm.
Kalu clutched his thin blanket and turned to Nedu, whispering, "Nna m ichi oke... this night go long."
Nedu snorted. "Just keep your bucket close. If they call you, no delay."
Minutes passed. Then, like clockwork, the dorm door creaked open again. Heavy footsteps echoed.
"Wake up! Una go fetch water now-now!"
Kalu's heart pounded. Seniors stalked the bunks, kicking them. "I say move! Who still dey sleep? You wan die?"
In the cold, Kalu grabbed his bucket. Juniors poured out into the night, heading to the borehole.
The queue stretched endlessly. Kalu stood barefoot on cold concrete, shivering. Behind him, someone coughed. Ahead, the water dripped slowly into buckets.
Boys pushed and argued. One junior fell, his bucket cracking. Laughter followed, sharp and cruel.
"Next time, use your head fetch am!" a senior shouted, mocking.
Kalu finally reached the front, his hands numb. As the water filled, his legs trembled. He turned to go.
Near the dorm, a senior blocked him. "This water na mine now. Drop am."
Kalu stood frozen. "Senior, please..."
The senior yanked the bucket from his hands. "You fit fetch again."
Kalu watched the water—his sweat, his effort—disappear. He wasn't alone. Along the path, other juniors stood empty-handed, their faces twisted in frustration and fatigue.
Back inside, he collapsed onto his bunk, breath shallow. Sleep was a distant dream. His arms ached, and every muscle throbbed with fatigue.
"Why we dey even try?" a junior whispered in the dark.
"I no dey gree again," another voice said. "Today, one senior collect my water. I carry two kegs, full to the top. He just appear, pour am inside him drum. No sorry, nothing."
Nedu chuckled quietly. "Omo, na survival. Me, I get one fake belt I dey wear in case. Senior go think say he get me, but na him get old leather."
Laughter, soft but real, rippled through the bunks.
"You think say na only you?" another boy added. "I dey carry my plate with rubber band tie am. Senior go see am, think say na real, I don chop finish. I no dey give again."
Kalu smiled faintly. Even in suffering, there was resistance.
Morning came too soon. As Kalu rushed to class, he adjusted his belt. A voice called out.
"You! Stop there!"
A senior loomed. "Drop your belt and one sandal. Collateral. Go fetch water."
Kalu blinked. "Senior, I get class—"
"Class go wait. My bucket dey under my bunk. Go now!"
Kalu handed over the belt and one sandal, limping to the dormitory. His head spun.
Later, in class, barefoot and late, he sat quietly. The teacher didn't ask questions. Chalk scraped across the board. The sound pierced his tired mind.
His classmates noticed but said nothing. Everyone understood the code: silence was safer.
Kalu's stomach growled. He had eaten little the day before, and now hunger clamped his belly like a fist.
At break time, Nedu whispered, "You dey alright?"
Kalu nodded weakly. "Na only hunger dey hold me like prisoner."
That evening, as he headed to the dining hall, another senior called.
Kalu ran.
Behind him, the voice roared, "I know your face! I know your dormitory! I go find you!"
That night, Kalu did not sleep. Eyes wide, ears tuned to every sound, he waited—for the senior, for the threat to become real.
The dormitory door creaked. Heavy footsteps entered. Roll call began.
"Where that boy wey run today?" a voice barked.
Kalu's heart raced. He curled up tightly on his bunk, eyes fixed on the dark ceiling.
Minutes passed. The footsteps faded.
He exhaled, but sleep would not come. In the darkness, every shadow looked like danger.
He whispered again, "Nna m ichi oke..."
To be continued...