For the memories you made in FGC Port Harcourt.

You left Rosysteps Secondary School with just one thought in mind, “I’d definitely end up getting killed in FGC Port Harcourt”.

 

The Friday your dad bought the shiny FGC admission forms for you, you cried endlessly and tried to persuade him to let you remain in the same school. In a bid to show the severity of your despair, you had left the pot of beans cooking on the butterfly stove in your kitchen, till the contents of the pot became as darkened as your prospects of happiness. Your older siblings had told you so many nasty tales about FGC; the cult groups, the use of corporal punishment on students, the high rate of bullying, and the tendency for a top scoring student in a private school to never make top twenty within the school. Armed with entreaties from the staff and students at your private college, vehemently urging you to stay within the school, you stepped into the ‘Entrance Examinations’ hall in FGC, determined to fail your exam.

 

In Six weeks time, when the results of the examination were released, you told everyone who knew you at the time, about how your name had been among the first thirty-five slots on the merit list. You rambled endlessly about the competitiveness associated with securing admission at Federal Government Colleges, and how you were fortunate enough to be amongst the 250 selected students, out of the over 4000 students who sat the exam.

 

On the 2^nd of October 2011, you marched into the four walls of FGC and felt overwhelmed by the massiveness of the building and the distance from the gate to the school’s administrative block. In your fresher’s uniform – a white oversized pencil skirt and a matching oversized shirt, which had been ironed and starched to military rigidity by your older brother- you walked briskly towards the same hall you had been to earlier on, and you soon found that it was referred to as the ‘Orientation Hall’.

 

Barely one week into your journey as an FGC student, you forgot all about your attachments to your previous school and later realized that staying behind at the school would have situated you on the precipice of impending disaster in the future. You carried on gleefully during your orientation week, in your subconsciously perfected art of being a busybody, exemplified by your volunteering to participate in every activity (as Ellena would later tell you), and this made you the first student to be assigned to a class.

 

“Class; SS1 A. House; Loyalty House. Take that pen and write your name under ‘A’, then look for your folder and place it there too”, A plump woman in a floral two piece ensemble had said to you in the Guidance and Counseling Unit of the school’s administrative block. You later found out she was called Mrs. Emordi and that she did not like female students who put on tight skirts, had more than 15 cornrows and wore colored vests.

 

After being assigned classes, you and the other ‘freshies’ were allowed to attend your first school assembly of the year. On that fateful Monday morning, a tiny girl- way shorter than you were- had asked you to “kneel down and walk on your knees”. You laughed hysterically at her command, hissed and attempted to walk away. Then a group of five other girls surrounded you, and gave you the pep talk that changed your attitude forever.

 

Senior Maryann began by saying, “ Listen, I don’t know who you are or care what school you came from, but this is FGC. Your senior’s are to be given maximum respect, even at the detriment of your comfort.”

 

The other four seniors’ then echoed her words, and threatened to beat you up. A teacher walked past the scene and stared intently at you all. You wore a sudden smirk on your face, expecting her to save you from the claws of the beasts. You later found out she was called Mrs. Ihim; that she loved fashion, that she would teach you physics for three months and that she could care less about a chubby fresher being corrected by loving seniors as it were.

 

That afternoon, you met Anwuli from your previous school at the Tuck shop. You attempted to exchange pleasantries with her, but she had refrained from excessively indulging in your stories. Her friends later told you to call her “Senior Anwuli”, and she turned a deaf ear to your pleas, when they gave you hot nylon bags with puff-puff, moi-moi and fried fish to carry to their respective classes.

 

That evening when you returned home, you told the tales of the day in the most hyperbolic way possible. You attempted to make your father see reasons with you as to why you could not continue in such an environment. Your mother threatened to report the girls to your principal, and your older brother volunteered to give them a warning on your behalf.

 

But my dear girl, when your skin started to harden above the underlying soft flesh, and the lines started to fall on your body in pleasant places, when you received the award as the best student in your class after your first test, and received that crumpled piece of paper from the handsome senior with dimples, you yourself decided that perhaps it was the place to be after all. You began to imprint your nickname on the walls in the school; cursive letters written with permanent markers, alongside the imprints of other students.

 

The terms raced by, you made your mark. You stood out. Press Club. Debate. Science. That Tuesday afternoon, when you boarded the school bus to FGC Warri for the zonal stage of the National debate, you wore your white shirt and maroon skirt proudly. When you graced the stage as the chief speaker for your team, standing firmly on the legacy senior Theresa had set before you; speaking with the authority senior Juliet had also been known for across most debate competitions, it dawned on you that you had not just passed through FGC, but you had let it pass through you.

 

With the same conviction in mind, you said before the throng of spectators in the debate hall “ It is in the limelight of my points that I have eloquently outlined, having full confidence that I have proved beyond any reasonable doubt my stand in proposition to the notion set before us, that I leave the stage for my worthy opponent. My name remains Nwokoma Chiazor Tracy, and I rest my case!” It was the FGC PH in you. You had come to love the school.

 

On the day of your prom, as you stood to give the final speech in your laced long sleeved peach dress, you highlighted all the positives about your stay in the school. The end was before you, yet it felt just like a new beginning. You ended your final public appearance with the words ‘Pro Unitate’, which means ‘for unity’. It was clear at that particular moment, that the school would forever remain a part of you.

 

*****

 

Heyyyyy loves!

Thank you for reading. I had so much fun in Secondary school, and it would take a novel’s worth of blog posts for me to tell you all about my experiences. However, feel free to share highlights of secondary school career in the comments section.

If you attended FGC Port Harcourt, I’m also excited to hear what other stories you have to tell about the school!!!

Till next time,

Chiazor. xx