The Story of Mr.Bediako

Mr. Bediako was one of the numerous Ghanaian teachers we had at Staff School, our primary school for kids. I don’t quite remember if his first name was Kwesi, or Kojo, or Kwame, but it was one of those Ghana names with a "K" in it. We called him "Acheampong" for short, although how Acheampong could be short for anything remains a mystery. We just knew that it was law in Ghana to either have your name start with "K" or end with "pong."

One morning, during "break time," Yomi Faparosu and I had gotten our "Fan Milk" packages and had settled in one corner to discuss the breaking news stories of the day: Charles Bassey had written his name on the bathroom floor using dubious methods; Temino, the giant (he was at least 5"8) had beaten up some person again.

It turned out the person was Isi Okigons’ kid brother. Now Isi was a girl who no one messed with. She would tie her sweater round her waste in a split second and deck the living daylights out of ANY baga! As we said back then. Well, word was that Temino and Isi were ready for a showdown, but Temino backed down by hiding in the toilet between the letters of Charles Basseys’ name.

Yomi had all the news, and I was envious. He always seemed to know what was going on in our primary school world. But I did have one snippet of information. I had been walking to the U.I sports field the other day, when I passed a couple of "boys quarters." I had seen Mr. Bediako stepping into one of them with a female companion and it aroused my curiosity.

Understandably, there are things which need to remain unknown, but I was quite the young Sherlock Holmes. I needed to know what was going down or who. So I crept to the window and looked in. And there I saw it! Mr. Bediako sat down on the chair across from the missus, and they played a game of scrabble. I was in a hurry so I only waited around for an hour and a half, but nothing else happened.

I relayed my story to Yomi who found it unbelievably amusing. That Mr. Bediako liked English was no surprise. All Ghanaians, we had come to understand, liked English. After all they spoke in such a refined way:

"Heh! Cam hay! Heh! Get me eh fek so det ah cen eet some

food. Heh! These man! How eh you? How is yer bratha? How

is yer sisteh? Is she still eh nerse?"

In fact, my uncle Magnus loved the way they spoke so much he tried to imitate them or develop his own brand of English: "Gaga, was that an Amraking movie?"

Huh?

Well, Yomi and I finished our conversation and went back to class. The crowd by the toilet had ceased trying to entice Temino to, like Lazarus, come forth. Isi, noticeably disappointed, put her shoes back on and sulked to class. P>"The following people please stand up and follow me!" It was Mr. Bediako! My knees began knocking as I felt like the KGB was coming to get me.

"Yomi Faparosu!"

Oh God.

"Muyiwa Akinsoyoye!"

Oh men!

"Jeetan Prajiv!"

Oh no, all my homeboys.

Mr. Bediako paused. I could almost hear the music

"Gaga Ekeh!"

My world came crashing in.

We all stood up and were marched to Mr. Bediako’s class. There, with his students watching, he began to interrogate us.

"This aftehnoon, ah hed that the all of you wheh talking about me. I want you to tell me who started this." Damn! Yomi must have embellished the story, as he always did, and told it to Muyiwa and Jeetan, our partners in crime. Mr. Bediako flexed his cane menacingly and I knew that if Jesus didn’t come in the next five minutes to take the saints home, I’d be in a lot of pain soon. Yomi Faparosu began to speak, his voice shaking:

"Er sir Gaga told me that"

"Told you what?!"

Yomi began crying.

Muyiwa continued where he ended up "Sir, we heard that"

"Heard what?!"

Muyiwa started crying

Jeetan tried to carry the torch, but couldn’t even get a word out before he started crying. The sight of the cane was anything but pleasant.

I was left to tell the story. So I told Mr. Bediako what I told Yomi, in front of the whole class. Mr. Bediako began laughing. He found it funny. I began laughing. I didn’t find it funny, but figured that if he found it funny, it would be in my best interest to encourage him likewise. This train of thought was ceased with a violent conk by Bediako to my head. I was temporarily brain-damaged and so I cannot claim responsibility for my next actions.

Dazed, I picked up Mr. Bediako’s cane and began flogging him uncontrollably. The students in the class looked on, gasping in utter amazement. As I flogged him I yelled: "Tripple letter score! Double word score!" Mr. Bediako was initially too surprised to react, but by the time he had regained a semblance of composure, I had begun running through the class flogging people. The whole class erupted in panic as everyone jumped up and ran out of class.

Mr. Bediako was now ready to fight me. Perhaps it was the manner in which I carried his heavy desk and attempted to make it one with him that helped him make the decision to kindly leave. They must have thought I’d gone crazy. But I wasn’t crazy I thought, picking up a trash can and throwing it at Mr. Ameyaw Bonfri, in the next class.

Mr. Ameyaw Bonfri, ever the concerned teacher, left his students in my care as he tore through the window. I rapidly summoned my friend Dapo with my left hand tugging his school uniform, then consummated our friendship with a solid right hook to the cranium. Dapo was twice my size, but it didn’t seem to matter to me, or him for that matter. He tore out the door yelling for his mother

to save him. I ran after him tearing a few leaves of "Werepe" (otherwise known as devil’s leaves... they itch like hell) and asking him to bring his mother to me that I might show her the truth. Dapo ran towards the crowd that had gathered and I followed. One young kid. A crowd of hundreds. Surely they could take me. Right? Wrong! With yells and screams of panic, the crowd scattered, teachers and all, as I picked up several rocks and threw with great aim. A couple of thuds told me I’d hit my mark more than once. After each hit, I’d rush to my victim to see if they were moving. If they were, I’d beat the crap out of them. If they stayed still, I’d move on after the crowd which would only run so far then wait to see what next I did.

Finally, I was tired. I put down the rocks and walked on home. I was taken away later that day, and upon doctors orders released on my own cognizance. The doctor found no evidence of mental instability. He declared temporary insanity and left it at that. For some reason, no one ever

mentioned that incident to me again. For some reason, no one ever had eye contact with me again. I liked it that way. Ah, but those where the days that shaped who I am now The days of Fan milk. The days of Yomi’s stories. The days of Mr. Bediako. But I must cease writing now I have more work to do. Must leave Rockingham now. Hey what’s this? He’s leaving? Well he can’t get away. Were in it together. He might be a legend, but I can run too. Good bye. Hmm. I wonder whose bloody glove this is. But it doesn’t fit.

You know what that means.

The end