My story: Ibadan, my education and the gangs

It was an early Monday morning, the sun was just beginning to rise over Ibadan, casting a warm glow on the ancient city. Mom had woken up my sister and me, and we were almost ready for school. In the background, the voice of Pastor Femi Emmanuel crackled from Baba’s transistor radio: “Hello, good morning, welcome to Turning Point. I’m Femi Emmanuel.” His familiar greeting signalled the start of another stressful day at school. As the first bell rang at Goodwill grammar school, students, all in their navy-blue khaki shorts or skirts and white shirts, hurried through the gates, their laughter and noise echoing in the still morning air. Amongst them was Tunde, a lanky boy with a rugged smile and a keen eye for trouble. He was nicknamed "Omo Esu," the devil’s son, but no one dared call him that to his face. He was strong and highly skilled in fight, a fact that we had witnessed many times. Rumour had it that he possessed “Agba subu”, a dark magic that caused anyone struck by it to fall uncontrollably. With such power and prowess, he was a formidable force, feared by all who knew him of his reputation.

Tunde had grown up in the bustling neighbourhood of Oke-Ado in Ibadan, where the clamour of markets, the hum of traffic and scent of Indian hemp were a constant backdrop. Life was often hard, but it was home. Yet, beneath the city’s vibrant atmosphere, tensions thrived in the public schools. Rivalries between gangs had been escalating, the third term of the school session is ending, and a sense of unease hung over the students like a dark cloud.

Goodwill grammar school had long been at loggerheads with its neighbouring school, Badwill grammar school. What started as harmless taunts had grown into something more ominous. Students from both schools often clashed after school hours, their fights spilling into the streets. It wasn’t just about pride; it was about survival.

Tunde’s older brother, Taye, had been caught in one of such fight last year. Taye bore the scars of that day on his face and in his heart, scars that made Tunde guarded but also determined to avoid similar fate. But the street codes and orientation were hard to break, and sometimes, even the most careful could not escape its pull.

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The tension came to a head one hot afternoon. Tunde had just finished playing badminton when Ojo, a well-known Badwill grammar school troublemaker, swaggered into the school yard with his squad. A crowd quickly gathered as Ojo challenged Tunde to a fight.

“Come on, O boy! Let’s see if you are as tough as you say” Ojo taunted, his voice dripping with disdain.

Tunde’s heart pounded in his chest; his stomach rumbled. He knew what was at stake. If he backed down, he would lose face, and the fight would only get worse. But if he accepted, he risked injury, or worse. With a glance around at his friends, who were now looking at him with a mixture of hope and fear, Tunde stepped forward. 

The fight was brutal. Fists flew, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the school yard. Tunde fought with all his might, drawing on every lesson Taye had ever taught him. But Ojo was strong, and it wasn’t long before Tunde found himself on the ground, gasping for breath. 

Suddenly, Ojo pulled out a small knife, the blade glinting in the sun. Before Tunde could react, he felt a sharp pain in his side. He looked down to see blood spreading on his white shirt. The crowd gasped and started to scatter as Ojo disappeared into the chaos, leaving Tunde bleeding and alone to his fate.

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Tunde’s vision blurred as he was rushed to the hospital. The world around him faded in and out, his mind swirled with fear and confusion. When he finally woke up, the sterile smell of the hospital filled his nostrils. Pain radiated from his flanks, but the relief of being alive was overwhelming.

Taye sat by his side, eyes red from sleepless nights and worry. “you’re lucky to be alive,” he whispered, gripping Tunde’s hand. “Things could have been much worse.”

Tunde spent weeks recovering, the wound slowly healing but leaving a lifelong scar. The experience had shaken him to his very core. He had face death and comeback, and it changed him in ways he couldn’t yet fully understand.

Back at school, Tunde was no longer the carefree boy looking for trouble. He moved with a newfound caution, the memory of that knife always in the back of his mind. The gangs seemed to sense the change in him, and they kept their distance, as if sensing that Tunde had seen something they hadn’t.

Tunde didn’t suddenly become a star or model student, but the brush with death has given him new perspective on life. He avoided the troublemaking Itu gang and focused on simply getting through each day without incident.

Taye, seeing his brother’s transformation, supported him in every way he could. But the scar of violence ran deep, and Taye himself could not ignore the call for vengeance that ringed within the school gangs, Ojo must pay for his sins. Though the shadows of Tunde’s past would always be a part of him, Tunde walked a different path now, a path marked by a quiet resilience and a deeper understanding of what truly mattered. But street still hummed with the promise of future conflicts, and Tunde knew that, for many, the fight is far from over.

In the end, the cycle would inevitably continue, leaving behind more scars, more grief, and more young lives forever changed by shadows of violence in our public secondary schools. Unlike Tunde Omole, many were not as lucky, but my sister and me were among the lucky ones, we came, we saw, we conquered and we survived.

Razaq Adebayo, ALONGE