My Dear Sister

 

"David, don’t you want your sister to go to the University?” my mother asked me while dabbing my tears.

“No! I want her to stay at home,” I responded.

I did not understand what was happening at first. When my only sister, our firstborn, sister Eniola, brought home several bags of provisions some days earlier, I thought she went for the monthly shopping for the family. We did our usual hi-five greeting when she got home, and she took the bags into her room. For many days, the bags remained in her room. I didn’t bother to ask her why they were not in the kitchen store.

A day before she resumed at the University of Lagos, she began to put tins of milk, cereal, and sugar inside travel bags. I was in her room. That was when I realized she had bought new clothes and shoes too.

“Why are you packing bags, sister Eni?” I asked her.

“I am going to school,” she responded.

“You always go to school; you do not take cornflakes and milk to school.”

“That was secondary school. I went there and came home afterwards. Now, I am going to University, David. I will live on campus.”

“Campus? What is campus?”

“Ooo ooo! David, your questions are too many. A campus is a compound where students study and live after graduating from secondary school,” my sister responded in a hurry. She wanted me to leave her alone to pack her bags, but she did not say it.

“Ehn? You will not live in our house again?” I asked in shocking displeasure.

“I will spend some time in school and come back home during school break,” she said, rubbing my head.

I ran out to ask my mum if my sister would leave the house. My mum confirmed my fears.

I cried a lot. My best friend was about to leave me. Sister Eniola was more than a sister to me in those days. She protected me always, even when she got into trouble for doing so.

She is seven years older than me, but she could have as well been my mother in her affection towards me. I am the last of three children.

I remember two times when sister Eniola saved me from our father’s anger.

For the most part of Primary school, I had poor grades. All efforts to improve my academic performance did not yield results. When I was in Primary 5, preparing for secondary school, I scored 53% in the mock exam organized by my primary school. My mother told me gently that I needed to read more to pass the entrance examination into secondary school. She did not stop me from watching cartoons after seeing my score. My father would have disallowed me to watch cartoons. He wanted me to read all the time.

During dinner later that day, my father pulled out the report of my mock exam. All of us ate at the dining table. He was very angry with me. He shouted at me. He reminded me how he had spent much money on my education.

“Your school takes most of my money, you silly boy,” he told me, looking unhappy. I lost my appetite immediately. I thought he would beat me. He never beat us, no matter our offence.

Suddenly, sister Eniola’s plate fell off the table and broke. Everyone was shocked by the noise. My father stopped shouting at me and asked if my sister was okay.

“David, assist me in picking these broken pieces,” she said.

I jumped out of the chair and joined her. While picking the pieces of broken plate, she winked at me. It was then I realized that the damaged plate was not an accident. My sister broke it to distract my father in order to stop him from abusing me for performing poorly in my mock exam.

My father angrily left his food on the table and went to his room. My mother asked him to eat some more. He refused.

“David, because of your low score, daddy refused to eat,” sister Eniola told me later that night. I slept in her room for two days. I stayed away from my father for some days. I was afraid of him.

I became unhappy with my scores. I was sorry for making my father angry because of my poor grades. Sister Eniola gave me more attention than before with my studies. She checked my exercise books after school and explained areas I did not understand. She was patient with me. My father was not patient with me.

I scored 203 out of 300 in the entrance examination. I gained admission into JSS 1. My father and sister felt I performed better than before.

“I would buy you gifts if you continue to do well,” my sister encouraged me.

The second time Sister Eniola protected me from my father’s anger was when I broke the television remote. It was five days after my poor mock exam scores. Kunle, my brother, and I fought for the remote because we wanted to watch our preferred channels. While fighting, the remote slipped from our hands, and I mistakenly stepped on it. It cracked. We stopped fighting immediately. Our father had bought the big television two weeks earlier.

When my father returned from work, he noticed the spoilt remote.

“Who damaged this remote?” he asked us.

Kunle looked at me. I was afraid to confess. My chest felt heavy. My tongue was dry. I knew my father would ask me to kneel and face the wall.

“It was I who spoilt it, daddy,” sister Eniola said. “I am very sorry. I will mend it.”

I was surprised. I didn’t know why sister Eni took the blame for what she did not do. I looked at her in awe. She winked at me.

So, when I learnt that she would leave home to stay in school, I could not imagine living without her around me.

#Fiction

#Children Stories