By the time the end of term came, there was no one left standing. Between defections and realignments, everyone in class had written either a chapter of Abbot’s physics or Psalm 119. Many hated me, and many loved me (or pretended they did... it didn't matter much to me).
But now everyone paid attention to MY fabrications, listened to MY tales of Tae Kwondo, and always had a kind word for me. Even Kola's boys would come over when they wouldn't be spotted and try to mediate some kind of bilateral disarmament. These talks took till the very end of classes that term. By then the casualty toll was so severe, even our allies asked Kola and I to have hearts. But in a power struggle, there are no casualties--just ends to power.
One day as I sat at home, plotting strategy for the next term, and this included asking Avoseh to vary the writings up by including some of the Songs of Solomon (and maybe a chapter or two from Habakkuk), a peace-keeping delegation led by Falope made it to my fortress at 8 Crowther Lane. They had come with a proposal for a cease-fire.
According to them, Kola and I could end the whole event by fighting it out with our Tae Kwondo, and the winner was the winner. Period. Being manly, I showed no fear, and even seemed to eagerly anticipate the bout with Kola. Deep down I was concerned. True I was a blue-belt, but so was Kola (and he claimed he’d soon be brown). I'd seen him practice and he was quite easily my match. I didn't have the psychological edge with him that I used against other folks, and the stakes were decidedly very high here. If I lost, it would be the end to my reign of terror.
Like a troubled dictator I accepted the cease-fire knowing that it was possible that my time was up soon. Unbeknownst to me, Kola had the same concerns. A fight was not what he really wanted, with me, and he had already devised some killer strategies for the 3rd term--such as including diagrams in the chapter writings. For days the anticipation built up.
The fight was to take place in that historical village dug up behind the basketball courts where Atere made a career of demolishing Oshobi (but that's another tale for another day). I trained and I practiced. Jovi gave me tips on my round-house kick "as potent as a sucker punch." I did sit-ups and push-ups relentlessly. I sparred with red and black belts, and got my ass kicked at every opportunity. This was going to be the fight of fights. Like all African dictators, I knew that if I lost this fight, the whole of 3-D was dead next term. I wasn't relinquishing power that easily. Oh, I knew they'd hate me, but if I went down... we'd all go down.
Two days before the scheduled fight, I had a visitor at my fortress. It was Kola. I was stunned. He was there in full military regalia--his blue belt, his gee, and his kung-fu slippers (five goats). He told me that he wanted us to fight right then and there. He didn't want to do it in public. I was stunned. Yet, within me, I knew this was the easy way out. He was presenting a third alternative to the cruel bloodshed that would no-doubt occur next term, if he or I lost a fight in public. So I put on my regalia and we headed to the back yard. Akpan, our house-help, watched with glee as he arranged the fighting arena. We bowed our heads, then started fighting.
Initially it was light kicks and a lot of showboating. And then "Gbam!" I heard a loud noise and saw a dove from Heaven flying overhead, talking 'bout "you are my son in whom I am well pleased." I regrouped to see Kola grinning. He'd got a good hit. Buoyed on by his confidence, he launched an all out attack. Big mistake. A couple of reverse kicks sent him sprawling. Now I was grinning. This see-saw battle went on for nearly fifteen minutes until we both could not breath.
We just barely had our heads up, panting heavily and saying, "Oya now! Are you scared! Oya now!" After a couple of minutes of "Oya nows" we both started laughing. First the embarrassed chuckle of people who just discovered that they have too much in common to be enemies. Then the maniacal laugh of two mad dictators who've discovered that an alliance would not only be more fruitful, but would increase their power exponentially if worked correctly.
I invited Kola inside and Akpan fed us with some of his Calabar food. I never asked what meat was in it, but always made sure that Skippy (my dog) and Debbie (my cat) were present and alive before I delved into the meal. By evening time we'd fashioned out a power-sharing scheme that would ensure us maximum power. All that remained was to pick common enemies. That was not too hard. Many of our "allies" were merely allies because of our power. As it turned out, we liked many of the same people and despised many of the same ilk.
And so it came to pass that the 3rd term of Form 3-D remains the bloodiest genocide ever perpetrated on I.S.I. students. Those who happened to cross the path of the Government of National Unity and Reconciliation paid a heavy price. Many of these folks today are your friends. They smile at you and they look normal. But take a closer look, friend. I say take a closer look. Look deeply into their eyes. You will see the pain and the hurt that came from the war--the bloody battle of Form 3-D.
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